#i apologize for my dry spell of writing lately

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni.

wc: 9.3k

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you are on: prodromal. (part four)

a/n:

hiii lovelies <3 i wanna start out with an apology because this was much, much later than i wanted to post :( i am so sorry! i really appreciate all the love and can't wait to reply all the comments on ao3 and tumblr :,) you guys are amazing and keep my passion for writing going. anyways, word count is 9.3k !!! record highs breaking every chapter haha <3 i hope you all find this enjoyable after a long dry spell :) and as always, credit to my beta reader @beeh-ive ily bih

ao3 link here.

prodromal. (part four)

sukuna had discovered three key truths when he drove back home after yuuji kicked him out of his apartment. 

yuuji was right about sukuna. it was annoying to admit that his baby brother was right about anything, let alone something so fundamental to his character. it was easier to bark out orders and shelter him from the world. to not hear him be a mature person with complicated thoughts and his own perceptions— especially the ones about sukuna. deep down he knew he couldn’t keep yuuji unaware forever. he couldn’t deny that the events of their childhood scattered his soul, which he has since collected and duct taped together over the years. he knew he was a shitty person. better than anyone else. in the late hours of night he was kept up by the memories of their childhood, ones he couldn't burden yuuji or guilt their grandfather with. it was his to keep and bury within that duct taped soul. he had made peace with it, he thought.

he could respect yuuji’s wishes (withholding some information). messing with you was just an excuse to spend more time in your presence. if that wasn’t possible, he’d find ways around it. a small voice deep down was adamant to say attached to you, everyone be damned. 

he had seen you that day walk into the coffee shop in that gorgeous outfit, skirt swishing with every move of your hips, completely captivating him. moreover, he witnessed how you spoke with suguru and it made something tick inside. he’s never gotten jealous of his best friends, not until this very moment. who was he, that you smiled so big for him? hold on, why the fuck was suguru touching your hair? 

he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it aggressively, smoke engulfing the sight before him. suguru was a friendly guy, he was often surrounded with women due to this fact. sukuna was well aware of it; and honestly didn’t care until he was witnessing before his eyes you becoming a part of that equation. 

friend or not, he wanted to barge in there and yank you away from his selfish, dirty and unwelcome hands. motherfucker. 

while his angry thoughts were steaming, sukuna didn’t realize suguru had left and was already making his way towards him at the bricks. sukuna’s eyes focused back and found the man towering over him, a question mark painted on his face. “thinking about something?”

sukuna flicked the ash gathering on his cigarette off of it and inhaled another puff. an exhale. “i’m gonna get a drink really quick.” he couldn’t look at suguru’s face without the urge to pound him into the ground, the scene of his fingers touching your hair on loop again and again in his mind. so, he pushes off the wall, crushing his cigarette with his boot, and makes his own way into the tacky coffee shop. he hated the sugary nature of the place, it was so suffocating. satoru loved coming around to buy sweets, but sukuna never let the man sit and stay at a table if he was dragged into accompanying the white-haired idiot. the girl at the register looked mildly nervous when he stalked inside, which was a common reaction he got given his tattoos and looming figure. sukuna’s eyes drifted to the display of pastries and bread, scanning. he recalled you eating chocolates during your study hangouts with yuuji, the goddamn wrappers always littered on the table. he decided the little chocolate pillow-looking thing (he refused to pronounce whatever the fuck a pain au chocolat is) would suffice, his eyes flitting to the sight of you getting verbally abused by your loud friend. “um.. what can i get you, sir?” the small voice of the attendant brought him back to the front. he nodded, pulling out his wallet. “that chocolate square shit.” she hummed in acknowledgement, and began getting the tong to pack it away. sukuna stopped her. “er.. actually, i’m buying this for someone. you see that girl over there? with the green ribbons?” she looked at him with wide eyes, then found you. she nodded slowly. “that’s my girl. give it to her for me?” “o-oh! how sweet.. will do, sir! anything else for you, then?” he shakes his head. sukuna leaves, paying for your little treat. and now, he waits. suguru looked at sukuna and noticed his empty hands, even more confused than before.

“didn’t you say you were getting a drink?” 

“changed my fuckin’ mind.” 

he pulled another cigarette out to light and his friend sucked his teeth in response. “you really need to find another vice. nicotine is total shit, man. ‘s why i started weed instead, y’know–” 

“suguru, please shut the fuck up.” 

suguru’s mouth pops in mild shock, but he obliges. he knew well it wasn’t worth picking a fight with sukuna when his mood was sour, he learned that by watching satoru try sukuna’s patience on the daily. his eyes trail your figure making your way to the register and the scene unfolds exactly like he asked. he chuckled as you started looking around exasperatedly, finally meeting his eyes. he gave you a little wave. you ignore him, the treatment he’s been getting for a while now. in due time, sukuna thought. in due time he would chip at your resolve, little by little, until your walls completely broke down. discreetly and respectfully, of course.

because above all, yuuji didn’t have to know about his attempts. sukuna didn’t intend to lie, per say.. he just decided he could have his cake and eat it too. said cake being you.

and so this brings us to the final and most universal truth:

he needed you in the rawest form possible. the realization was natural. when you had asked him that night upstairs, he was caught up in words because he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing– it was delicate. but he needed you. sukuna didn’t know how to describe why in words either.. he was studying engineering, you think he was killing it in english literature?  he just knew the feeling you gave him, the one that ignited a fire in his chest and a desire to orbit your sun. he had decided he wasn’t going to let you put him on the sidelines anymore; developing the fake half-way point to pursuing you in silence.

your internship was much more simple than you expected. while your interest in professor kaito’s research was high and got your foot in the door, the actual work was rather lackluster. you spent maybe three hours at your desk organizing files and sending simple emails, but other than that? you were just passing time. 

you had met her other student assistants a couple days into it, also in your graduation year. a mild mannered blonde man named kento and his super-positive friend, haibara. you thought kento outright hated you in the beginning, but quickly understood he was just another overworked college student. poor guy.

it really helped having something to take your mind off of sukuna’s futile attempts at catching your attention that had begun a month ago.

oh, how he was irking you. 

the bakery freebie was the first of many unnecessary gestures sukuna had done. he had made it a habit to buy you food and have it reach you in the weirdest ways. just last week, he had hit a new low by having a doordash guy somehow get you energy drinks and candies in the middle of a lecture. a note was attached that read, ‘don’t fall asleep, pretty. -s’. you were embarrassed, but thankfully the professor didn’t notice. you also took it up to apologize profusely to the doordash guy for having to fulfill such a weird request— you had handed him a crumpled up five dollar bill from your backpack because you felt so bad. your lunch got paid for randomly, your backpack had tiny presents waiting for you when you opened it, the list was endless. you were not only irritated but also mildly spooked that sukuna was able to evade your presence and manage these stunts simultaneously. he was like a romantic batman. ew, what? no. that doesn’t even make sense.

you were walking up to your apartment door late one night to see a deep red bag with black tulle stuffed into it sitting in front of it. you knew there was nobody else that would leave a gift like this in front of your door, and so you begrudgingly took it inside. it was rather heavy, which made you curious as to what exactly sukuna got you this time. 

as you put it on your tiny kitchen table, pulling tulle away from the bag, you spot the gold-embossed box. it was a really expensive brand you had heard of but never dared to think about buying from. you could hear your parents’ voices echoing in your head about being fiscally responsible, eliciting a shiver. carefully breaking the seal, you lift the lid to see the most gorgeous pair of maroon high-heeled mary janes. and once more, a note stuck to the tissue wrappings:

 ‘for my red ruby girl. -s’

your first emotion couldn’t be anger when the gift was so thoughtful like this. you giddily squeal and try them on— a perfect fit. but how? sukuna never asked for your size.. and you doubt yuuji would tell him without ruining the surprise for you. he’s so weird for that, you thought. 

you walk to your floor length mirror in your bedroom and stare at the shoes, thinking. 

he pays attention to what you like.

this was a stupid realization; he’d been getting you snacks and miscellaneous tidbits that were undoubtedly your favorites for a while. but it hits you nonetheless, your cheeks’ blush growing. you slowly sit on the ground, knees to your chest. what the fuck. you dig your fingers into the shaggy carpet, pressing down hard. you were hoping the hurty-happy ache in your fingers would go away, the one you get when you feel deeply emotional. the attempts he had made were like little vines growing over your heart, ones you had ignored for far too long and now they squeeze you tightly as if to say, “i’m literally never fucking leaving bitch!” 

you jolt when your doorbell rings. a melodic knock follows. “open up, buttercup! i’m hereeeee,” nobara voice was muffled by the door but recognizable enough. you leap to your feet, nearly tripping on your way to throwing the door open. 

nobara takes one suspicious look at your shabbily-hidden nervousness and calls your bluff. “were you watching R-rated shit? because if so i can totally leave, no problem.” your voice squeaks in an ungodly high pitch, spluttering gibberish before you manage an “oh my god no, what the fuck!” she cackles at your reaction and slaps a hand on your shoulder, moving to enter the flat. “you’re so easy to mess with babe, i worry for you at times! really. i do.” 

her eyes catch the shiny box that lay open on the table. “is that xtique? they’re mad expensive, girl! you actually bought something from there?” “no!” you quickly burst, making nobara jump at the sudden denial. “i mean, no, it was a gift from my… father! for the internship.” you point to your feet and she gives an impressed hum. “they’re super sexy-looking. your dad has good taste.. weirdly enough.” you didn’t really know what to say to that without it seeming weird or ruining your last-minute lie, so you just chuckle and nod. 

you like chocolate, especially when it’s melty or gooey in something. you hate tomatoes. which is odd, because you’re okay with ketchup and marinara sauce, but anything with a tomato that the eye can see you don’t touch. you drink a lot of coffee after lectures. you love little cute trinkets, but don’t have that many. 

sukuna was learning about you; and applying the information as soon as he did. granted, you looked positively enraged every time you saw his notes. he also saw your face turn red, so he has to be doing something right. the way your lips quirk for a moment before the eventual frown and looking around for him was pretty adorable. whatever it was, sukuna’s plan was in motion and working as he wanted. the lengths he went for you were unheard of for the usual suitor, but sukuna was a crafty guy (when he wants to be). he tipped off the doordash guy that snuck into your lecture hall an extra twenty dollars in cash to be quiet and unnoticed by the professor. he somehow made friends with the girl at the coffee shop— said her name was christy? kristen? fuck if he knew, to be honest. he really just kept familiar with her so he could have her deliver pastries and coffee from him.  

“this bast– RYOMEN! the fuckin’ oil!” sukuna snaps out of his train of thought to see he was still at work, not in his daydreams. he never got into his thoughts like this, what…? whatever. it was about you, so he didn’t feel as bad. he cursed when he saw the oil pan was slightly away from under the plug, letting the oil spill all over the deck. “i swear to god ryo, you better clean that shit up before you clock out,” choso chided. his cousin-slash-coworker genuinely never caught a break with sukuna and his antics. one of the downsides of working at the shop the family owned, he assumed. but truly, choso was getting gray hairs from the amount of stress that man gave him. sukuna simply waved him off, discarding his rag that was now soaked in old oil. checking his watch, he realized he is close to his clock out time. in five minutes, he messily cleaned up the deck and made his exit, clicking his helmet on and driving out. at a stoplight, sukuna hears some giggling from the car next to him. he pans to see four girls with their windows down, now squealing because sukuna noticed them. one had her phone up, recording him? while another gestures as if asking for his phone number. sukuna scoffs out of irritation. really? he throws up his left hand which was gloved and gestures to his ring finger. they go silent and roll up their windows, embarrassed. a little lie to get them off his case was harmless, he didn’t care either way. technically, it was true he was “promised” to someone, that being you. eventually, he declares in his head. eventually. his head swivels to look at the buildings beside him instead of the cars while he waits for the light to flip. his eyes catch on shiny, ruby shoes in a display of a boutique-looking store. they looked awfully like the ones he saw at your apartment, and at the door the times you stayed over at yuuji’s. sukuna decides to detour and turns into the parking lot for the fancy shop. 

when he walks in he notes it’s rather small, his large frame mildly cramping the area. it was silent and empty, save for the soft jazz playing overhead. a small but peppy old woman bustles out of the back, heels clacking. she was wearing a fancy two piece suit in some kind of purple(it’s periwinkle, but would sukuna really know that?) 

she was about to greet him out of habit when a small “good heavens!” leaves her mouth, in sight of her new customer. she apologizes profusely for the sudden reaction while chuckling nervously. “you’re not our usual patron, you’ll have to forgive me for my outburst dearie!” she runs a manicured hand through her blowout hair, giving a warm smile to him. 

sukuna becomes a bit hyper-aware he was in an oil-stained wife pleaser and slacks, and his usual leather jacket. right. he just grunts and nods, looking around the store. pastel pink and gold adornments littered the walls, the smell of roses infiltrating his nose. all it was missing was you sitting in the middle of it all, honestly. this place was unironically your persona. 

he turns to the display, thumb pointed to the shoes he saw. “you got those in stock?” the lady perks up and immediately gets to work, buzzing around the store to grab boxes. “why of course! is this for a mother, sister? girlfriend, maybe?” sukuna simply nods. “girlfriend.” she giggles melodically, opening and closing boxes. “how sweet of you! she must be one special girl,” sukuna imagines you opening the box and wearing the shoes, your giddy excitement in private. he smiles faintly at the thought. “very.”

she finally finds the set of ruby shoes, and asks him for your size. he replies nearly instantly. he had seen your shoes so many times, the size was always written on the sole. so maybe he had it memorized, no big deal. numbers came easy to him anyways, he dealt with many of them in his studies and job. and maybe he had a section in his notes app for you. 

the old lady quickly wrapped up the shoes and stuffed black paper in the bag to hide the box. sukuna quickly pays, giving her a deep grumble of a thank you. she just smiles and waves him off. “i hope your girlfriend loves them!” as he leaves the shop she sighs with a bittersweet expression on her lips. she misses young love. 

as sukuna leaves the shiny boutique, he looks at the bag in his hand. was he doing too much? he hopes you would like it, and as far as he knows, you don’t own a pair of these in the red he picked. maybe it was selfish thinking that you would enjoy that same red hue you saw in his eyes, especially after that comment that lived in his subconscious. 

your eyes are sanguine red.

he grins to himself, walking a little faster to his bike.

nobara had stayed around for a couple of hours before she called it a night, saying something about how stupid she has to study for her exams when she’s a liberal arts student. you just chuckle and turn her loose. “you’re always welcome to ask me for help," you chide her. she scoffs and pushes you playfully. “no way. you’re like up to your ears in stuff, i couldn’t burden you. and anyways, you’re already helping yuuji and his two brain cells.” she waves you goodbye, and you head back up to your apartment once you see her get into her uber. 

you’re about to flop on your tiny couch when your phone rings. you groan internally when you see the caller id. 

“hello, father.” 

“you need to come home this weekend.” 

you frown. “i’m sorry?” 

“did you not hear me? you need to come home this weekend and help your brother with his entrance exams.” 

you’re in mild shock for a moment, making you go silent. surely he doesn’t think you have time to spend an entire weekend at home. you had so many things to juggle as it was, and your weekend was kind of your safe time. if something bled over from the week, you’d do it then, or hell, sometimes you just wanted to sit and watch a show or two. 

“..father, i’m not exactly free—“ 

“you’re lying. i know how many credit hours you’re doing and that internship of yours is the only extra activity in your time. seriously, when will you grow up? you have so many more duties to fulfill and you’re trying to get out of the simplest one.” 

you had such a difficult time reasoning with your father and it’s been this way since your childhood. he never saw what you wanted or what you accomplished. it was always “how can she benefit the family?” you let out a deep sigh. there was no getting out of this, you accept. 

“i’m sorry, father. i’ll be home on the weekend.” 

“good. your mother keeps asking about your health so don’t eat any rubbish.” 

you make a noise of agreement, but mentally you’re rearranging your tasks for the upcoming week to allocate time for the impromptu trip. he hangs up the phone without a goodbye, as usual. the dread you felt for the first eighteen years of your life settles back into your chest like an unwelcome old friend. you sink to the couch, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. you’re looking at the setting sun seeping in from the window, the light disappearing feeling awfully similar to your emotions right now.

it’ll be just another thing you’ll brave through, you suppose.

kento is washing beakers in the back of the lab room, but you know you felt his eyes on the back of your head. “yes, kento?” you say without turning around. he clears his throat to cover up the cough he let out of surprise. he did not think you would’ve noticed. “you just seem a little downtrodden today, is all.” you let out a sad laugh and walk over to help him dry the beakers. “well, you aren’t wrong, i guess,” you say absentmindedly. you woke up today with the same dread you felt earlier this week, which you had felt every day since the call until today— friday. the gloomy, rainy day didn’t help your mood either. 

“anything i can do to help, maybe?” you smile at your monotonous friend. you learned he was quite caring, but had a hard time mirroring it in his tone of voice. “actually, yeah. do you think you could cover the last hour for me? i’m going home for the weekend.” he nods, putting the last clean beaker in the crate. “no worries. i hope you enjoy your time at home.” you draw a heavy sigh. “i’ll try,” you manage with a deflected grin. 

you wave kento goodbye when you’re walking out the door of the lab, heaving your bags along with you. the rain hadn’t stopped by the time you were walking to your car, so you had to run to avoid drenching everything you had and yourself. 

the drive home was mostly silent, save for your playlist playing softly in the background of the car. the rain slows to a stop when you turn into your neighborhood, which makes you slightly annoyed. couldn’t it have stopped for you when you were getting a cold shower on the way to the car? once you pull up to your apartment complex, you notice something that immediately draws a groan from your lips. 

before you is a sleek black bike, and leaning on it was none other than the object of your irritation. his helmet sat on his seat and his pink hair was moussed by the rain, making it a more deep pink shade. his stupid grin churned your insides. turning the key off in the ignition, you step out of your car, walking towards him. 

you notice his fingers drumming on his seat. he seemed happy to see you? “forgot your umbrella?” he gestures to your head, and your face goes red. your hair was a little out of the ordinary after running through the rain. “shut the fuck up.” you quip dismissively, comb your fingers through your hair to try and fix it– but the moisture had already had its way with you. you give up with a huff. 

your eyes narrow at him. “are you stalking me?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms, clearly not in the mood to deal with sukuna’s games today. he protests with his hands up. “i’m no fuckin’ stalker, sweetheart. just came to drop off your jacket. yuuji said you left it at his place the other day.” you don’t remember leaving anything at yuuji’s, but lo and behold, sukuna takes a jacket out of his seat compartment that looks awfully like one of yours. you stiffly accept it and look away. 

“you free tonight?” your head snaps to meet his eyes and that stupid smirk shone back at you. you turn away to walk back to your car. “nope. sorry! i’m leaving right now,” you swiftly call back to him over your shoulder. because of your height difference, he catches up to you in three strides. 

he grabs your wrist, halting you before you reach the driver’s door handle. “hey, what’s the rush? you literally got back home,” he was right. you did have things to get from your apartment, but you were more annoyed with his ambush that you simply wanted to drive home to get away. 

“can’t you see i’m busy?” sukuna gives you a furrowed expression. “with what?” his gruff tonality replaces the playful one he had before.

you were literally at your breaking point, couldn’t he bother you another day? you yank your hand away from his grip. you give him an icy glare, unwilling to answer him. he takes your pause to maneuver around you and stand in front of the door, blocking you from entering the car. his sharp eyes zeroed in on the tension you’re trying so hard to hide. 

“what’s your problem?” he asks sternly, his voice pressing against you. you clench your jaw, refusing to speak up. you hope he’ll just let it go. 

but he doesn’t. 

he’s still watching you, studying the ticks of your expression, searching. 

“come on,” he pushes, his voice quieter but unrelenting. “what’s really going on with you?” 

why the fuck was sukuna always around you when you were doing horrible? it was so damn irritating. you take a breath, more shaky than you wanted to show him. 

he didn’t miss it. 

you’re fighting back the anxiety and frustration that’s about to spill tears. 

“i’m.. it’s nothing, i just need to go home,” your stomach is turning knots. you hate the face he’s giving you. it’s digging at you, and sukuna isn’t one to back away from confrontation. 

his gaze sharpens, his eyes flickering with something you can’t read. “you mean your family home? like with your dad?” 

he only heard one phone call with your father, for fuck’s sake. you almost felt angry he thought he knew exactly what was going on. your heartbeat was in your ears at this point. “what’s so urgent that you’re fuckin’ running away all stressed?” 

your fists tighten at your sides, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. you felt like the muddy asphalt was swallowing you. you didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek. the words followed behind like a tsunami. 

“you think i want to go home?! i get told something and he just expects me to do it with no questions! i don’t even.. i don’t even have time to do this, but he—”

your voice gets caught in a muffle. sukuna had wrapped you in his leather-clad arms, your face smushed in his chest. he smelled like smoke and gasoline, which was weirdly comforting. 

“just.. cry it out.” he mutters. 

his hand is stroking your hair softly, like you were a small child to be consoled. you didn’t care to protest his sudden actions. your fists grip his tank top as you sobbed into him. you don’t know how long you both stood like this, but you could’ve sworn at one point that he was shushing you like a baby, which was again— weirdly comforting. 

when you tilt your head up, eyes red and puffy, sukuna slips a chuckle. you slap his chest, offended. 

“your first reaction is to laugh at my misery, asshole?” 

“your eyes are swollen, sweetheart.” 

you curse and press the cold backside of your hands under your eyes, hoping to reduce the inflammation. you’re both in silence for a couple of moments, him just watching you while you pretended to not notice the holes he was burning into your head. 

he finally spoke up with a hand tapping your cheek. “c’mon, let’s go somewhere.” 

you give him a gaping shocked face. ‘i’m sorry, did you not just see me have a breakdown about needing to go home?” 

he rolls his eyes as if you were acting immature. god, now you know how yuuji must’ve felt growing up. sukuna was definitely as sassy as he was now. “that’s exactly why i’m saying that, idiot. you can go home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

you open your mouth to argue again, but the looming dread you had of facing your father tonight still makes your stomach sink. a night to take your mind off of the stress you’ve been bottling for days.. yeah, that sounds like exactly what you need. you hesitate, glancing up at sukuna’s face, searching for any hint of pity, but all you see is that stubborn determination he had. 

“fine,” you murmur, wiping your hands on your jeans. “but if this is some dumb excuse to make me do whatever you want…” he gives you a sly smirk, visibly amused again. “when have i ever needed an excuse for that?” you smack him again while he walks you over to his bike. 

he grabs the helmet from his bike and hands it to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “just one night, sweetheart. then you can go back and deal with… everything else.” 

you take the helmet and sigh, feeling the dread slowly lift from your chest as you click it on your head. after he climbs on the bike, he stretches a hand out to help you on which you take gratefully. he glances back at you with a soft smile you hadn’t seen since that night you bandaged his hands. 

he feels like a lifeline right now, albeit you didn’t want to admit that. you just needed an escape. 

you nearly scream when sukuna pulls into the “small spot” he said he knew. 

it was a traditional kaiseki house, one that screamed rich and elite. you were wearing casual clothes and your makeup had pretty much melted away after your cry session (you noticed that your mascara had also bled onto sukuna’s white tank top, so you scolded him until he zipped up his leather jacket with a grumble.) 

“you should’ve fucking told me we were going to a nice place, i could’ve gotten ready or something!” sukuna looked practically oblivious. “why?” he deadpans. you fight the urge to facepalm yourself and settle for an eye twitch. “sukuna, look at me.” you gesture to your face and clothes. he’s seriously aloof, giving you a monotone stare. “yeah, i’m looking. you look pretty, why?” oh. there’s nothing you can find to say to that because you genuinely didn’t see an ounce of deceit in his expression. he genuinely believed in what he said, it seems. you process the fact he called you pretty once you’re off the bike, which makes you a little bashful.

regardless, you tried to prim yourself before you stepped inside; praying no one paid attention to you and your unlikely date. that was obviously wishful thinking considering how big of a powerhouse sukuna looked inside the small joint, which made you curse him out mentally. does he eat entire horses? however, the server looked at sukuna with respect you didn’t expect, and sukuna talked to him with ease. you couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes; he was acting like a socialite with insanely proper manners. 

the server led you both to a private dining room, bowing as he closed the door behind you. you unbuckle the ruby shoes you were wearing, ironically the shoes sukuna had gifted you the week before. you hope he didn’t notice. 

sukuna takes the seat opposite you, sitting rather poised and formal. you giggle at him, breaking the royal silence you were in. he frowns at you, miffed.

“what?” 

“you’re like, trust fund boy sukuna right now. you look so serious i thought it was funny,” you explain. 

he grumbles and crosses his arms. “my grandfather… is big on etiquette.” he manages. 

you expect him to iterate further. “…aaaand?” you had sat down, resting your head on your hands, batting your lashes mockingly. 

his frown deepens at your antics. “grandpa owns a lot of businesses, so when me and yuu were young... he made us come to formal dinners. parties and shit. if we acted like fuckin’ animals, we’d get our asses beat.” you giggle at the thought of little sukuna causing a ruckus. 

“i bet you were a handful.” you tease. 

“more like yuu was. unmedicated adhd in a boy is hell.” you agree with a nod. you felt kind of warm inside knowing something new about sukuna. yuuji had told you in the past that they were well-endowed, but these details were cute and… endearing to you. 

“you like them?” you snap out of your thoughts to see sukuna gesturing to your gifted shoes, sitting by the door next to his boots. a small blush dusts your cheeks. “it’s just a fluke… i was rushing this morning and they were the first pair i saw,” your excuse was perpetually lame. 

he nods slowly, amused. “…right, of course.” he lays sarcastically. 

you were about to say something else awkward when the door slid open, bringing the first course along with a round of sake. you both say your respects to the food before digging in politely. the food definitely tasted as expensive as it looked. 

you realize you’ve actually never had a meal with sukuna before. you take note of how proper he eats, which was kind of a surprise for you (again). you guess you could believe him now when he said yuu was worse off than him— that boy definitely ate like a man starved. 

when you finish your last piece, you take a sip of the sake the server had poured out for you. it was much smoother and sweeter than the ones you’ve had. honestly, a little worrying considering how much of a lightweight you were. you decide that’s a dangerous game and settle with nursing the small glass you had. 

“how’s college been, then?” this fucking… you didn’t expect sukuna to do small talk, but here you were. “um, it’s good. a little tedious lately, but i guess i can’t complain,” you chuckle softly. “that kid kento’s in your internship, yeah?” the way he just knew random things adjacent to you was a little scary. “yeah, how do you know that?” “he’s a family friend.” thank god. you were beginning to think sukuna had a private investigator on you or something. “o-oh, how interesting. so you’ve known him for a while?” “his father has been partners with my grandpa since we were young, so yeah.” you simply nod in acknowledgment, unsure of how to continue. this was awkward territory to speak so casually and non-hostile with the man before you.  

“you look like you’re being tortured to speak to me right now.”

you snap to sit more straight and less avoidant, feeling embarrassed he clocked your temperament. “sorry, i’ve not exactly had any real conversations with you,” he looks unphased. “you’re too busy trying to fight me for that.” you give him a frown. “well you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, asshole.” he simply chuckles and takes another sip of sake. he manages to look elegant despite the fact he’s dressed like a thug. “you’re easy to rile up, sweetheart.” 

you look at him incredulously. “you’ve got to be a sadist or something,” you exclaim with a small scoff. he hums. “not the word i’d use, but if it’s easier for you… sure, i’m a sadist for you.” “for me?” “i don’t mess with anyone else, if you’ve noticed.” you’re mildly confused, given that you know his track record, but you digress. you give him an unimpressed look. 

“…right.” 

he gives you a look back. “fuck you mean by that?” 

“oh c’mon, just because i met you recently doesn’t mean i didn’t know of you before that.” 

his weird look deepens. “oh? and what did you know of me, sweetheart?” he’s absolutely egging you on, but not in a way that’s teasing. he truly wants to understand what preconceived notions you have of him, almost like it was making him upset. 

“i mean… you’re a frat boy, sukuna. you get girls. you party. that earns a reputation, at minimum.” 

he looked a little hurt by your words, but he doesn’t let it stay long enough for you to notice. “tell me this, sweetheart. are you an introvert that only studies all day?” you stiffen. “…no, i’m not an introvert. and i like doing other things too,” “you liked it when i passed judgment on you being nothing but a booksmart nerd the first day i met you?” you shake your head slowly. “then you’re beating your fuckin’ stereotype. just like how i’m not the fuckin’ stereotype others say about me. understood?” 

you start to feel bad that you threw the same callous mindset he’s probably faced before, which was super out of character for you. you were an open minded and intuitive person. “i’m sorry, sukuna. i guess i’m just… having trouble understanding some things.” 

he raises an eyebrow. “like what?” 

“…well,” you take a sip of your sake to give yourself time to recollect. “i guess i want to know why you’ve been gifting me so much these last few weeks.” 

he visibly lightens up, slipping back into his playful demeanor. he purposefully takes a comically long sip of sake, causing you to laugh and smack him across the table, chiding him. “oh my god, stop! you suck, really,” 

he glances at you from the side of his eyes. “i just wanted to.” 

you look into his eyes, searching his gaze. a small smirk plays on your lips. a jolt of confidence hits you as you lean over the table on your elbows. “you got a crush on me, itadori?” 

he matches your energy tenfold, leaning towards you in tandem. you’re almost nose to nose. “inconclusive, sweetheart.”  

you sit back down with a small blush. “you’re not getting compensated for them, by the way.” 

he snorts, a deep chuckle following. “i never expected you to. they’re gifts, sweetheart. and i sure as hell know that little internship of yours pays in pennies.” 

you give him a withering look of irritation. “i get paid in experience, sukuna.” “that’s straight bullshit they tell you, you know that? you realize i graduate this year? already seen the way internships pan out,” true. “potayto potahto, dude.” 

his brows upturn out of amusement. you opt to change the subject from you. 

“you’re a mechanical engineering major, right?” you ask, tilting your head curiously. he just nods, his face giving nothing away. “how’s that, then? fun?”

he fixes you with a dry, almost exasperated stare. his eyes narrow slightly, eyebrows upturned just enough to convey that he’s calling your bluff. “is that a real question,” he drawls, “or are you seriously asking me about my major?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to sock him in the shoulder. instead, you force yourself to keep smiling. “you nearly made me want to explode with your small talk, so just answer the damn question.”

a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he snorts. “if i told you i find this fun, there’s probably somethin’ wrong with me.”

you roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “there’s definitely a lot wrong with you, but whatever.”

he raises a brow, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “hm? say that louder for me, sweetheart?”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks as your lips slip into an involuntary pout. you hate how you can’t control your expressions around him—it’s like your face has a mind of its own. you avert your gaze and take a long sip of your drink, feigning nonchalance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, the sake warming you from the inside out as you mimicked his usual unbothered attitude.

without warning, he stretches out his hand and flicks you on the forehead, a light but annoyingly precise tap. “idiot.” he mutters, sounding amused.

you groan, rubbing the spot where he flicked you. “when will you stop calling me that?” you whine, exasperated.

his laugh is low and unapologetic and his eyes twinkling with something irritatingly fond. “when you stop doin’ stupid shit. cute, stupid shit.”

somehow that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. you catch yourself mid-giggle, feeling suddenly self-conscious as sukuna’s gaze softens, just barely, his lips twitching into a smile. he’s watching you with this odd.. elated expression, like he’s seeing something new in you. you quickly clear your throat and try to regain composure, but the grin on your face lingers.

“what?” you ask, embarrassed, still smiling despite yourself.

he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but the faint trace of a smile remains. “nothing. just didn’t think i’d ever hear you laugh like that.”

a warm blush creeps up your neck, and you look down, fidgeting with the chopsticks. “i do laugh, you know,” you murmur, trying to act casual.

for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze unguarded in a way that makes your heart skip. the silence stretches between you, not tense but charged, like something’s shifting that neither of you can quite name. he tilts his head slightly, studying your face as though he’s trying to memorize every detail. 

the rest of your meal with him was filled with this unspoken, almost serene connection that neither of you quite acknowledged, but both felt. the conversation felt more natural and genuine, you couldn’t stop talking it seemed. you found yourself stealing glances at him more often than you meant to, feeling a strange warmth in your chest each time your eyes met. there was an ease to the way you sat together, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this strange little bubble.

not before long, you both had finished your food with much satisfaction. This is definitely one of the best meals you’ve ever had. when the bill comes, you half expect sukuna to pull out a credit card but instead, he glances at the check just a moment before he pays with a bundle of crisp bills from his wallet. god, that was unnecessarily hot.

"let’s go," he says, standing up. he waits for you to put on your shoes before offering his hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you take it, the touch warm and solid. he’s particular about the way he holds your hand– not too tight, not too soft. that makes your heart skip a beat. not to mention your hand is small in comparison to his, but a weirdly perfect match. like a peg sliding into a notch. 

as you walk out of the restaurant, you feel the cool night air hit you, a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. sukuna’s hand still holds yours, his thumb lightly grazing your knuckles as you both make your way to the street.

that’s when you spot it—an unassuming little ice cream stand on the corner, the twinkling of the fairy lights on its canopy making you grin up at him.

you tug on his hand, pulling him toward the stand before he can even say anything. "ice cream." you say with a mischievous smile, not even giving him a chance to protest. "you are legally not allowed to say no."

sukuna gives you a feigned look of annoyance at you but doesn’t pull away. “you’re insatiable,” he tells you, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—just the faintest hint of beguilement. you don’t miss the way his grip on your hand tightens, just a little, when you pull him toward the stand.

the vendor behind the counter greets you both with a toothy smile, and you instantly scan the flavors, your eyes lighting up as you point to one that catches your attention. "i’ll have the matcha," you say, already thinking about how good it’s going to taste.

sukuna gives you a side glance before ordering the most basic thing he could’ve chosen—vanilla. you can’t help but notice the contrast between his choice and yours, and it makes you giggle.

“you and giggling today, i swear,” he teases. you take the cone from the vendor’s hand with a small thank-you, sticking your tongue out at sukuna before giving your cone a lick. sukuna takes his cone shortly after, paying the man. 

walking together, hand in hand, the quiet sounds of the city hum around you. it’s almost too perfect, the way he towers beside you, both of you savoring your cones. despite the fall night being cool, soon your ice cream starts to drip and melt faster than you can eat it. you try to keep up but it’s a losing battle as your hands get sticky and little droplets threaten to trail down your fingers.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch sukuna stifling a snort, his shoulders shaking slightly as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a crumpled handful of napkins. he must have grabbed them at the stand, almost as if he anticipated this exact moment.

“somehow i knew you’d end up eating like a messy kid,” he teases, his voice tinged more tender than you’re used to. before you can reply, he steps closer, raising the napkin to your face with a gentle hand, his fingers brushing your cheek as he dabs at the melting ice cream on your lips and chin. his touch is careful and surprisingly soft, as if he’s handling something delicate.

“thank you,” you murmur, the words almost a whisper as you meet his eyes. they’re closer than you expected, and you catch your breath as he holds your gaze, just a fraction too long. you look away, the heat of his hand lingering on your cheek, and take another bite of your cone, trying to steady the flutter in your chest.

when you finish, you make your way back toward his motorcycle parked beneath a flickering streetlight. its chrome metal was gleaming in the muted glow. you lean against the seat as he stands in front of you, hand on the seat space beside where you were situated. this definitely feels like a date now, you thought. 

his presence was grounding you in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. he eats the last bite of his cone before wiping his own hands clean, then tossing the dirty napkins in the bin behind him. “can i ask one more question?” you look at him with a small smile. “sure, sukuna.” 

his hand that was now free of the ice cream cone instinctively goes to your other hip, not out of flirtation, but simply closer proximity. you were in the space between his legs, but it wasn’t awkward. it was just intimate.

“why’d your dad ask you to come home?” you let out a small sigh, brushing your hair out of your face to no avail as the wind pushes in your face again. you look a little solemn as you speak. “he wants me to help my brother with entrance exams for secondary school. i’m really just doing the work of a tutor, which i can’t imagine my father couldn’t afford, especially in terms of my brother.. but, i have duties that are unspoken, i guess. that i’m just expected to follow through. my tuition for university is paid by him, so i can’t exactly ghost my family. and my mom is still great with me, so.. i don’t want to lose her too,” you admit. 

when you finish you realize sukuna’s been rubbing circles on your side, deep in listening to you. “i know family’s tough,” he replies. “but you need to realize when it’s starting to screw you up. i’m sure if i didn’t come to your place, you’d still be burying yourself under all that fuckin’ expectation and you’d be burnt out by the morning.” you nod, the weight of his words settling in, and for a moment, you’re grateful for the honesty he’s bringing out of you. it’s strange, this feeling of openness with him, like he’s peeling back the layers you keep hidden from most people.

“maybe,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, which are still a bit sticky from the ice cream. “but it’s hard, you know? i feel guilty when i consider putting myself first, like it’s selfish or something.”

you hear sukuna inhale deeply, still focused on you. “selfish? putting yourself first is sometimes the best damn thing you can do. you’ve got one life, sweetheart.” he pauses, the weight of his gaze meeting yours. “if you don’t set those boundaries, no fucker’s gonna do it for you.”

his hand brushes a stray hair off your cheek that had been in your face for a while now, and your heart skips as his thumb lingers there. he leans in just a little, enough that his face is close, his gaze holding yours in a way that makes the rest of the world blur.

you swallow, feeling a warmth rising in your chest, a feeling that’s unfamiliar to you. “thanks. i guess i needed to hear that,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

he tilts his head slightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there’s something softer behind his eyes. “anytime, sweetheart.” 

without thinking, you shift your hand up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

he raises a brow, an amused but warm expression lighting up his face. “tryin’ to feel me up now?” he chuckles, but his voice is softer than usual.

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move your hand. “shut up,” you murmur, your fingers tracing idle circles on his shirt as you both stay there, close and comfortably silent. the connection between you was enough. sukuna’s hand shifts to gently cup the side of your face, tilting you to see him. you really see him. his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze flickering to your lips and then back to your eyes. you feel like the world has stopped around you two. you feel the subtle pull of his fingers on your skin. your heart beat is pounding out of your chest, and you feel his racing through his jacket too. in that instant, everything feels inevitable.

the harsh honk of a car horn cuts through the air, dragging you out of the moment with a jolt. you blink as the abrupt return to reality makes your breath catch in your throat. you pull away instinctively, breaking the bubble you were in. the realization of what was about to happen makes you nervous and almost scared. suddenly, you felt suffocated again. you shift, fumbling your fingers with your head down. 

sukuna stands still, silent. his hand that was almost ready to pull you in rested at his side now. his expression was rather blank, but different about the way he’s watching you. it’s quieter, more reserved, like he's waiting for you to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s formed between you. his jaw tightens slightly, just a hint of frustration, but he says nothing. he doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his silence is weighty, deliberate, and you feel the intensity of it even more because of it.

you glance at him quickly, and for a split second, you wonder what’s going through his mind. he doesn’t look at you with expectation but with that unreadable intensity that seems to pierce straight through you. you swallow, breaking the silence first. “sorry,” you manage, the words coming out squeakier than you intended, the awkwardness making you want to jump off a bridge. god, strike me down now or so help me.

“don’t apologize,” he rasps, his voice low, rougher than before. it’s not a demand, more like a quiet statement of fact. “you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

his words hang in the air, steady and unyielding. it’s not comforting in the traditional sense, but it’s there—uncompromising, like he’s just being real with you. there’s no pushing or attempting to rush things. he’s waiting for you to say what you need to say, or to fall silent again. like whatever you do, he’s not going anywhere.

you instead opt to pivot like you usually do, and turn to get on the bike. you check your phone and give a fake little chuckle. “it’s getting so late, wow! we should head out. yeah?” sukuna realized you were definitely feeling weird about the moment you just had, so he wasn’t going to make it ruin the night you both had enjoyed so far. he only nods. “lemme take you to your place.” 

the ride was weirdly quiet, even though you never spoke on the bike anyways. it was too loud over the roar of vehicles on the road. when sukuna turns into your street, you feel a wave of nervous energy pulse through you again. 

the bike slows as he pulls up to the curb in front of your building, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. sukuna parks, but doesn’t make a move to dismount right away. he keeps his hands on the handles, his body still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to move first. 

you shift off the motorcycle and walk to his side. you don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess it. sukuna looks like he’s about to say something when you press a soft kiss to his cheek, fleeting and sudden, just enough to catch him off guard. for the first time ever, you saw sukuna blush. before he can say anything, you step back already turning on your heel to run briskly towards the entrance of your building, heart hammering against your ribs.

“goodnight!” you call over your shoulder, your voice filled with the adrenaline rush you were feeling. you don’t wait for him to respond as you push open the door and slip inside quickly. the cool air of the building is a sharp contrast to the warmth that still lingers on your lips. You press your fingers on your lips, feeling your heartbeat even in your fingertips. you seriously don’t know what you were thinking… tonight’s feelings are swirling around you as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment.

sukuna was sitting for five minutes on his bike in front of your apartment, brain flatlining. he was going to kiss you. he was so close to your lips. he thought that chance encounter was the most he was going to get tonight when you decided to do that and have the gall to run away. 

he didn’t wash his face that night.

a figure with shoddy blonde hair puts out his cigarette stub on the wall, exhaling the last drag he had. the rooftop was empty, save for his friend. mahito sucks his teeth and throws the bottle of beer he was drinking on the ground, the shatter echoing in the dark night. 

“fuck, man! what are we going to do about that motherfucker?” he seethes, face red from his drunken rage. 

naoya chuckles at his lack of control. he didn’t seem as pissed about the whole ordeal, especially not as much as mahito. the fraternity wasn’t everything to him. and he knew good things come to those who are patient. 

“don’t think about him. we need to focus on the bitch that curved you,” naoya tells him coolly. 

mahito nods slowly, raring up with hype. “yeah… yeah! that ugly whore that got me jumped!” naoya just stares out at the buildings below, unbothered. 

“she’ll pay, mahito. just wait.”

sooooo :) how was it guys :) as always i live and breathe for comments (and all reactions hehe) so please don't hesitate <3 i try my best to reply to everyone in a timely manner, but please have mercy on me if i don't </3 love you all!

peace luv bathtub!

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© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[i-love-def-leppard]

the wip’s keep stacking up in my drafts 😭😭

[sirjaketkiszka]

Silver Springs: Chapter One

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Josh breaks some news when he invites you to watch the band practice.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Word count: 4,427

Warnings: extremely light cursing, dialogue-heavy, and poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Silver Springs Masterpost

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The minutes seem to pass by excruciatingly slow, and the dull sound of ticking captures your full attention. Resting your chin on your open palm, your eyes focus on the wall-mounted clock's second hand passing over the minute lines. The voice of your professor has been completely drowned out at this point, the low vibrations of his voice just barely reaching your ears. Just as expected, once the clock indicates 2:30 pm, students lift from their seats and gather their belongings.

The sound of rustling, backpacks zipping up, and chairs shoved back under desks pulls your attention away from the clock, your dry eyes blinking a couple of times from your previous zoning out. Looking to your left, Josh shoves his textbook back into his bag, silently cursing when it won’t fit all the way. Following suit, you grab your textbook, laptop, and notepad off of the tabletop and neatly place them in your book bag.

“I don’t know how you keep yours so organized,” Josh frustratingly huffs, forcefully zipping up his bag, “There’re too many things to carry.” He groans, standing up and struggling to sling the cross-body strap of his bag over his head.

“I think it’s a you problem, Josh,” You chuckle, zipping up your bag, pulling the strap over your shoulder, and standing from your seat. The lecture room is nearly empty now with only a handful of students, yourself and Josh included, scattered about. Without saying a word, Josh follows behind you as you both wave goodbye to your professor, exit the room, and enter the large hallway where fellow students scatter about, “You’d think you’d be better at organizing since it’s basically the end of the year,” You tease, smirking at him.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” He rolls his eyes, speeding up slightly to walk in front of you. Spinning around, he walks backward and faces you, completely disregarding anyone behind him. You can’t help but glance over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure he doesn’t bump into anyone, “So, you coming over to my place to watch band practice?” He asks, an eager smile pulling at his lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You question.

“Not really, because-”

“Because you drove here,” You finish his sentence, “Yep, I figured as much.”

“Oh, come on,” He begins, but nudges someone on accident and silently apologizes, taking that as his cue to walk beside you again, “It’ll be fun! You never watch us practice anymore.” He mocks a whine.

“Okay, okay, fine,” You say, looking around nervously at the surrounding students who are also making their way to the hall’s exit, “Um, will…” You clear your throat and frown at the stupid question, but ask anyway, “Will Jake be there?”

“Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, I know, stupid question,” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

“I’ll never understand your distaste for him,” Josh chuckles and shakes his head as he opens the hall’s exit door, holding it open for you to cross the threshold. When you step outside, the late spring, and early summer heat washes over your body, the blistering sun piercing your cool skin.

“That’s because he’s your twin,” You explain, the both of you walking toward the university’s parking lot, “And it’s not just me who dislikes him, trust me, the feeling is very mutual.”

And you are very correct when you say that. Of course, Josh doesn’t understand the extent of the mutual disliking, but he knows of it. Ever since you and Josh became friends, nearly seven years ago as freshmen in high school, you and Jake have never seen eye-to-eye. Personally? You think he’s full of himself, arrogant, and way too cocky for his own good. To everyone else, though, he’s apparently kind, understanding, and passionate, whatever that means.

“Well, I’m trusting you to behave tonight,” Josh half-teases and comes to a stop when you reach his car; an old, beat-up truck.

“I always do,” You argue, making your way to the passenger side as he unlocks the doors, “It’s him you should worry about,” You huff out, plopping into the passenger seat and immediately getting uncomfortable by the gathered heat. The inside of the truck is stuffy, and the unbearable warmth blankets your skin, suffocating you.

As soon as he starts the car, the aged engine sputters and roars to life causing a loud purr to vibrate the cabin and bed of the truck. Without missing a beat, you both immediately roll the windows down due to the lack of air conditioning.

“You’re probably right about that,” He admits, backing out of the parking spot and nearly zooming out of the parking lot as he drives in the direction of his family home. The drive is only thirty minutes; our hair collectively wisping in the strong wind current through your cracked windows. Previous layers of sweat dry in the semi-cool breeze, and views of tall trees blur in your peripheral. The music on the radio is low, but Josh talks the entire time; about his day, your shared classes, and where the band is performing next.

“Do you think you’ll be touring soon?” You ask, your voice slightly raised to battle the loud current of air.

“Maybe not on our own, but hopefully as openers,” He responds in an equally loud voice, his eyes concentrated on the road ahead of him. You simply nod, your gaze slowly drifting to look outside the passenger window. The journey to his house entails views of crop fields and thick forests. It doesn’t take long before you turn into a residential area, indicating your very soon arrival.

Dread, or nerves, you’re not entirely sure, wrap around your torso when the Kiszka house comes into view. Josh pulls up next to the curb in front of his house and puts the car in park, prompting the both of you to roll your windows up before shutting off the engine. You quickly exit the vehicle before the heat creeps back in, slamming the heavy door shut behind you, and Josh following closely behind.

The garage is already open, signaling to Josh that his brothers are patiently waiting for him. You hang back slightly, allowing Josh to walk ahead of you.

“Hey, guys,” Josh greets once you’re at the top of the driveway, two of the band members slowly coming into your view, “Y/n is going to be joining us today.” He informs them while entering the garage and setting his bag down on the old, discolored couch. You follow behind him, flashing a nervous smile to Sam and Danny, who are already smiling at you.

Sam and Danny are still seniors in high school, although they’ll be graduating next week, and they’re always happy to see you. Danny subconsciously fixes his frizzy hair, his meek smile lingering on you, making you chuckle to yourself. Sam, on the other hand, is full-on smirking at you and making his way over as you take a seat on the couch.

“So,” He begins, running a hand through his long hair, “you finally came to see me, huh?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sam, for the hundredth time, I am too old for you,” You laugh, knowing he’s not serious, but rather keeping up the running joke that he has a crush on you. A joke that started when he was much younger, and more specifically when you and Josh first became friends. Jake was the one who made the joke to tease him when you started coming over a lot more. Speaking of which, where is Jake?

“Worth a shot,” He shrugs, turning on his heel and walking back to his keyboard, residing on its stand to the left of the room.

“What made you come today?” Danny finally asks from behind his drum kit, his hands fiddling with the drumsticks as he speaks.

“Well,” You glare at Josh, who’s actively avoiding eye contact by staring at the ceiling, “I didn’t have much of a choice, but I’m happy to be here.” You conclude, smiling at Danny, not wanting to sound too miserable about watching them practice. You’ve watched them before, and they are damn good, but it’s more so… the Jake of it all that makes you avoid it. To be fair, Jake has never warmed up to the idea of you attending practices either. Something about you being too distracting for the band? You couldn’t remember, but it was enough to make you stop going altogether.

“I figured she was overdue for a practice,” Josh explains to Danny, making him nod in agreement, “And I’d argue that we’ve gotten much better since the last time you watched us,” He pauses, “What? Two months ago?” He asks. That was around the time you stopped coming over unless it was to hang out with Josh.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” You answer, sighing. Part of you felt guilty for avoiding band practices for so long, after all, you should be supporting your best friend. Another part of you knew it was for the best, especially since the reason just walked into the garage.

“Jake! Look who’s here,” Josh says happily, holding his arms out to present you to Jake, like it was a good thing you were there. When he looks at you, his face is straight but his eyes are pained? Disgusted? Annoyed? He’s wearing his usual get-up; a self cut-up graphic tee, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and Chelsea boots that somehow work well with the outfit. His shoulder-length hair is slightly ruffled, signaling that he’s been running his hands through his hair; something he does when he’s stressed, not that you cared.

“Nice,” Jake mumbles, his eyes sweeping over your seated position, making you feel small. You hated that he could do that; make a person feel small with just a single look. With his eyes leaving yours, he picks up his plugged-in acoustic guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder, “Ready?” He asks, wasting no time and a little annoyed, looking at the other band members.

You turn to Josh, who gives you a comforting smile, to which you return an unsure one. You watch as he leaves your side, walks to the mic stand, and takes his place between his brothers– Sam to his right and Jake to his left.

Collectively, Josh and Jake turn on their respective amps, causing a small amount of feedback to fill the garage. Jake plucks his strings as Sam plays a few notes on the keys, checking the volume of the speakers while Josh mumbles unintelligible words into the mic. The floor beneath you gently trembles, carrying the sound of the speakers to your planted feet. You smile eagerly, your hands fidgeting in your lap, patiently waiting for them to begin.

“Flower Power?” Josh asks into the mic, looking around at his bandmates. They all nod, readying themselves, “1…2…3…” He whispers into the mic, looking at Jake. As on cue, Jake begins strumming the strings of his guitar, and a beautiful tune hits all corners of the small garage. It’s a tune you’re very familiar with, one you’ve heard since they started playing together, but it never loses its beauty.

Simultaneously, Sam fluidly moves his fingers above the keys, and it hardly looks like it takes effort to create such an alluring melody. Danny joins in with the pounding of his drums which immediately travels through your feet and shakes your core. Last to come in, or the best for last as he says, is Josh, whose smooth voice sounds equally unique as it is nostalgic.

“She is a lady, comes from all around,” He begins singing, sending you a wink as he does so, making you smile and shake your head. Your eyes scan the band; Sam mouths along to the tune as he plays, and Danny’s mouth mimics a ticking sound, while Jake’s body rocks back and forth with every strum and pluck of string. Lingering on Jake, you watch as his eyes absentmindedly close as he strums, his eyebrows knitting in concentration, and mouth hanging slightly agape. With your mouth suddenly feeling dry, you gulp and sit up straight, peeling your eyes away from Jake.

Every once in a while, though, your eyes drift back to him; the music flowing through his body with every forceful stomp, every rock of his hips, and every whispered word on his parted lips. You couldn’t deny that when he played, he did it well, and if you aren’t mistaken, you can almost swear that Jake’s eyes drift to you every time you look away; burning holes in the side of your face as you keep your focus on Josh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the practice is relatively normal, with a few passive-aggressive remarks between the Kiszka siblings, but again, relatively normal. As soon as practice is officially over, Jake can’t get out of there fast enough; swiftly unplugging his 1961 Les Paul, placing it on its guitar stand, and booking it for the exit without a single word.

You look over to Josh with a confused expression painted on your features, but he just shrugs nonchalantly and places the microphone back on the mic stand. Making his way to the couch, you scoot over to make room for him, letting him plop down next to you. “So, what’d you think?” He asks, slightly out of breath.

“Josh, you guys were amazing,” You answer honestly, turning to face him fully, and smiling at the growing talent of your best friend, “You’re going to go so far.”

“Thank you,” He says, smiling in return, his adorable tooth gap shining through more than anything. You’ve always loved his smile, and it made you wonder if Jake’s was the same, not that you saw it much whenever you were around anyway. “So, are you staying for dinner?” Josh asks, his genuine smile morphing into a sly one.

“You’re my ride,” You point out once again, squinting suspiciously and seeing right through him, “Do I have much of a choice?”

“Not really, no,” He smiles wider, knowing he’s gotten his way, “But, if you don’t want to stay, I won’t make you.” He says, holding his hands up in defense.

“I’m only joking when I complain about staying,” You assure him, not wanting him to think you dislike being around him or his family, “Of course I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Perfect!” He exclaims, shooting up from the couch, and holding his hand out for you to take it. When you do, he yanks you from your seated position, and you nearly lose your balance when you get to your feet. Releasing your hand, Josh grabs his bag and your bag, motioning you to follow him into the house. “We’re ordering pizza.” He states matter-of-factly over his shoulder.

You glance back at Danny and Sam, who are staying behind to debrief the practice, and walk up the short steps to the entrance that connects the kitchen to the garage. Like a gentleman, Josh holds open the door for you, allowing you to walk in before him.

The house is much cooler than the garage, where the peak spring warmth accumulates heavily, making the air sickeningly thick and humid. The sheen layer of sweat bordering your features dries quickly with the soft blow of air conditioning carrying around the house. Behind you, Josh sets both his bag and your bag on the kitchen table residing next to the garage entrance.

“Any suggestions?” Josh asks, referring to the pizza, as he picks up the home phone. Turning around to look at him, you silently shake your head, knowing you’ll be content with whatever he decides. While Josh calls in the order, you wander into the empty living room; different shades of autumn brown blanket every surface, family photos litter the tan walls, and an overstuffed shelf struggles to uphold an impressive collection of vinyl.

Since the first moment you walked through the door many years ago, the faint smell of cinnamon has always lingered, seeping into the worn furniture and even your clothes by the time your visit was over. It was a smell you grew quite fond of, and a smell you always associated with the Kiszkas.

“Pizza’s ordered,” Josh says from behind you, entering the living room, and walking past you to plop onto the faux-leather recliner next to the stairs. Following suit, you plop onto the large matching couch next to him, immediately sprawling out on the soft cushions and staring at the off-white ceiling. “So, finals are next week.” You hear Josh say from the recliner, his voice carrying above you.

“Yep,” You frustratingly sigh at the thought of them, “then our sophomore year of college is over– then onto the next.” You couldn’t wait for your college career to be over; you majored in Photography while Josh majored in Film, but you both had overlapping classes. Photography was something you participated in as a hobby, but you figured, why not make it a career? Sometimes you regret your decision.

“Yeah…” Josh responds with a sense of uncertainty on his tongue, making you take your focus off of the ceiling and lift your head to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, propping yourself on your elbows when you see the upset look on his face. It’s not a look he portrays often, and when he does, it worries you immensely. He stays silent for a moment longer, his lips parting ever so slightly, then closing again when words can’t form, “Josh, talk to me.” You urge him, your pulse actively climbing with anxiety.

“You know how I mentioned we might be touring as openers soon?” He asks, his eyes looking anywhere but yours. You were really getting nervous now, causing you to push yourself up into a slumped seated position, fully facing Josh, who still refused to look at you.

“Yes?” You simply answered, growing curious.

“We are touring as openers,” He rushes out in a strong exhale, making his shoulders slump in relief, and as if a weight has been physically lifted off of him.

“Josh!” You gasp his name, your back straightening from shock, “That’s great! When are you touring?” You ask excitedly, but his demeanor doesn’t match yours.

“August,” He answers.

“August,” You repeat back, the excited pitch of your voice still present, but gradually fading, “As in a couple of months, August?”

“Yes, that August.” His response makes your shoulders slump again, and mixed emotions tug at every facial feature. You’re smiling, happy for your friend, but your eyebrows furrow, attempting to understand the situation.

“What about school?” You press for more information before jumping to conclusions.

“I’m dropping out,” He quietly says, almost too quiet because you have to lean forward to capture his words, “After this semester, I’m done.”

“Forever?” You fully frown, your mouth suddenly going dry, and your heart pumping at an unsteady rhythm from the roller coaster of emotions.

“Indefinitely,” He tries to sound optimistic, but ultimately fails, “but, yeah, probably forever.”

“That’s…” You attempt to form words, any words, but they fall short and catch at the back of your throat, causing a whispered straining sound to come out, “...Okay.”

“I know,” He sighs, his eyes finally drifting to you.

“Your dream–”

“I know,” He repeats, a little too loudly, “But I can always come back to it.”

“I guess,” You pause for a moment, thinking of the situation at hand; you were proud of Josh, no doubt about it. Although, all that could echo in your mind was that being in a band was never his dream, working in film and creating films was, no, is. Knowing Josh, he’s already thought this through, and he knows the risk he’s taking. So, scooting closer to the edge of the couch, and closer to Josh, you reach over and grab his hands, giving him reassuring squeezes, “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” He asks, a sad smile on his face.

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous,” You playfully roll your eyes, bringing his hands up to your heart, “I will always support you.”

“I knew you would,” He smiles genuinely, his rosy cheeks reaching his eyes, “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” You smile back, releasing his hands, which were getting quite sweaty. They fall into his lap, his fingers instantly fidgeting, and he absentmindedly chews on his lower lip. By his demeanor, you can tell the situation still weighs heavily on his conscience, “So, what are we doing for the summer before you leave me forever?” You ask with a small laugh, attempting to lighten the heavy mood, while leaning back to lay down on the couch again with your hands interlocked behind your head.

“First, it’s not forever, it’s like three weeks,” He chuckles, rocking back on the recliner, making it groan in response, “Second, I’m not sure, but I’d like to make the most of it.”

“Me too,” You agree, making a comfortable silence fall between the two of you, with the faint ticking of a clock suddenly sounding too loud. Still, your heart beats rapidly, imagining a school year without Josh, hell, even a town without Josh. You’ve been attached at the hip for seven years, and you can’t help but fear what distance might do to a close friendship.

Startling you both, a loud, forceful knock at the door causes you to swiftly sit up, and Josh shoots up from the recliner, the back of it rocking into the wall behind it, mimicking the current knocking.

“That was fast,” He observes and walks to the front door, fishing out his worn-out wallet from his back pocket. Without paying much attention, you listen to the exchange of Josh handing the money over for the pizza, thanking the delivery driver, and shutting the door with his foot. He reappears in your view, a large square box accompanying him, “Pizza’s here!” He shouts, loud enough for Jake, Danny, Sam, and the damn neighbors to hear. The sheer force of his voice causes you to flinch, a smirk forming on your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.

“Aren’t you supposed to not completely strip your vocal cords?” You ask, laughing while sitting back up.

“Yeah, well, it’s whatever,” He shrugs, leaving you in the living room.

As you’re about to stand from the couch, Jake’s footsteps thud down the steps, each stride earning a small whimper from the aged floorboards. Scrambling to get up, the task proves to be hard when the couch cushions' soft state causes your hands to sink back into them. “Damnit,” You silently curse, heat rising to your cheeks from being flustered.

When Jake reaches the bottom of the stairs, he pauses, watching you shove yourself off of the couch. Huffing out a breath, you immediately feel his presence and glance over at him; his face is stoic, his features carved from stone, and his eyes bored, but a small smirk pulls at his lips. Not a moment passes before he swiftly walks past you, causing a subtle breeze in the once-stagnant air. Your hair whooshes in his direction, reaching out to him, and he’s followed by the faint smell of cologne and smoke. Realizing your reaction, your breathing halts, unintentionally holding his rich scent in your expanded lungs.

Blinking rapidly, and exhaling a sharp breath, you walk into the kitchen where Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny are all picking at the pizza on the kitchen table like vultures sharing an animal carcass. Luckily, Josh has set aside a plate for you with two slices of pepperoni pizza neatly placed on top. The others, however, grab what they can and hurridly stack the slices onto their plates. Stepping around Josh, you grab your plate and squeeze his shoulder to silently thank him.

With the pizza box empty, you, Josh, Danny, and Sam all file into the living room, with you and Josh calling dibs on the couch, making the two boys sit on the floor. The recliner remains empty, though, probably for Jake.

“So, you coming to the bonfire next weekend?” Josh asks, his mouth full of chewed-up pizza, making you grimace. He has a bad habit of talking with his mouth full.

“Of course, I am,” You answer, taking your first bite of pizza after you respond.

“Good,” He says happily, shoving a large bite of pizza into his mouth.

Jake finally enters the living room, holding a cold beer in his hand, and surveying the full room. His right eye twitches slightly, and he looks to the stairs, most likely deciding to eat in his room. Paying him no mind, you swallow your previous bite, “Do you mind if I bring a friend?” You ask Josh as Jake slowly treads across the living room and toward the stairs.

“Sure! Is it that guy you’ve been talking to?” Josh asks, once again with his mouth full, but doing his best to push the food aside with his tongue. Before you answer, Jake’s steps falter, and instead of going up the stairs, he turns and sits on the recliner. Everyone, including Sam and Danny, who were deep in conversation a moment ago, looks at Jake. Although, he takes a sip of his beer, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Um… Yeah,” You hesitate in your answer, still taken aback by Jake’s voluntary presence. Shaking your head slightly to get out of the trance that is Jake, you turn back to Josh, “Yeah, it’s the guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Great! I can’t wait to meet him,” Josh says enthusiastically.

“I’m sure,” You respond, nerves hanging on the ends of your words. Josh has nothing to do with this reaction, but more so, it’s yourself. You’d be lying if you said it was easy meeting guys and keeping them in your life, but it’s not. They either come off too strong or are way too boring. There was no in-between. This new guy, however, you’re hoping he’s different. You do like him, as a person, but you haven’t quite felt that… connection. “I’ve been promising him to hang out soon, so it’ll be nice to have you there.” You say truthfully.

“Of course,” Josh smiles, his cheeks stuffed with food, and his plate becoming empty quickly. You’ve hardly touched your first slice since you can’t help but notice eavesdropping ears to your right; Jake. His eyes are fixed forward, zoning out on the well-loved but stained carpet, but you can tell he’s listening. For whatever reason, you didn’t know.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

That was chapter one of Silver Springs! I’d like to apologize if it seems a little fast paced and uneventful, but I promise it will get better as time goes on. The chapters will likely get longer as well since I have a lot planned for this fic, I just needed to lay the groundwork with this chapter. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it and I’d love to hear your opinions! All my love!

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tag list:

@aflame4goinghome @peaceloveunitygvf @dilflover-4ever @hollyco @samfkiszka @dayumclarizzel

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tags:

[wwaheoh]

"Pronoia", Kafka x gnReader, SFW, Comfort

a/n: a part two to "Paranoia" (Angst), would reccomend reading that first before reading this. not great at writing happy stuff so apologies if this sucks

Weeks passed after that fateful night. Your promotion had started rocky, as you stayed up late thinking off all the ways you messed up. How stupid you were, how better you life was with Kafka. How you would kill to spend even a minute longer with her.

Thankfully your work didn’t get you demoted, stabilizing after a couple of days and being written off as getting comfortable in your new position. A progression, but not for you. Every day you’d wake, robotically going through the motions. Taking a shower, eating breakfast, commuting to work, working, going home, eating dinner, and then stare at the wall. Sometimes you’d be able to break out of this spell, doing a little bit of exercise, watching a movie, but it all fell apart once your thoughts began to spiral. Kafka, you missed her, even if she broke up with you in the end, even a week longer would have been far better than this.

-

One day during your commute back home, you brushed someone’s shoulder. It wasn’t particularly busy, so it was embarrassing to have somehow ran into someone. Looking up, you began to apologize, “‘m sorry,” before your voice hitched. A charcoal gray coat hanging off a white dress shirt. Deep purple eyes stared back at you, a smile adorning a face you’d longed to see for weeks.

“Ahh, no worries. In fact, you’re just who I wanted to see.”

You began to be led out of the subway station, right as your train home arrived. It opened its doors, an exit. But did you want to take it? This was a chance to get back what you so brazenly threw away, even if for one last conversation. Even if she killed you tonight, deeming you a loose end that had to be taken care of.

You followed the Stellaron Hunter out, following the stairs upward, it all became a blur until you realized you were both seated in a fancy restaurant. The kind you’d have to book weeks in advance for.

“Kafka-” “You know, what you did wasn’t something you should do to a lady.”

She cut you off just as you began, you didn’t even know what you were going to say, maybe wanting to tell her to leave you alone, maybe to tell her to stay and to forgive you.

“I’m sorry…” “I want to know why exactly you did what you did.”

Lazily, she looked through the menu that had been prepared at the table, as if she wasn’t pushing you hard. Hell, you didn’t even know why you broke up with her without sounding like an idiot.

“I… I was scared.” She looked up at you, “But you’d known of my profession for a long time. Why then?” “Not that… it was the scripts you followed.”

Aeons, it felt like forcing the words out of your mouth, realizing how insane your words sounded with how far your mind jumped to conclusions.

“I was scared that you had only been with me to get to others. And that you’d… leave me after.”

There was a silence as you and her mulled over what you said. Nervously, you picked up the menu and read through some of the entries.

“If that was the problem-” You set your menu down quickly, “You should have just told me.”

“Huh?”

She chuckles, “Do you truly think I would have told you who I was if you were solely a pawn? None of the scripts given to me even spoke of me finding someone like you.”

Your throat was dry, tears welling up.

“I truly do love you. What you did really hurt me.”

“‘m sorry…”

Tears began to fall down your cheek, realizing that all this pain that the both of you felt for the past weeks was needless.

“It’s okay…”

She leaned forward, softly grasping at your hands to console and help ground you.

A server came, awkwardly cutting in in order to collect your orders.

“Don’t worry, it��s all on me tonight. I never got to treat you for your promotion.”

She ordered her food, with you following, regaining composure as you turned back to her.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke as you tried not to start crying again.

“It’s okay, I just hope you realize that I love you. Not for any plans, not for your connections, but for you.”

“I… I love you too. The past couple of weeks had been horrible…”

-

After a while of catching up, you dined, eventually a peaceful ground set between the two of you.

Stepping out into the chilly night, you shivered as the breeze came by. A warm coat covered your shoulders, with Kafka lending you hers to keep you warm.

“I’ll… be seeing you soon?”

“No, dear.”

Your heart felt like it stopped, as if she had stabbed you and twisted the knife.

“I’ll be coming home with you.”

You felt your legs almost give up on you as relief set in.

“Th-that was mean.”

“I apologize, just wanted to lighten the mood. Now, home?”

“Yeah!”

Kafka was happy that you both were finally back together, that smile she wore after seeing you after what felt like an eternity had been plastic at first, but melted away as the night passed. She had made a promise to herself to not use her Spirit Whisper to push you to come back with her, only getting Silver Wolf to “reserve” a spot for them and keep her out of any surveillance.

It was going to be back to normal…

-

Your house did need a lot of cleaning up though, being unkempt as it deteriorated along with your will during the time you were apart.

[zoros-debt]

hii i’ve been looking for long well written zonami fics and i was hoping you could recommend the best stuff you’ve read. i don’t mind any site i’ll even take wattpad at this point ;—; there’s waay too little of this pair on ao3 and so many works i’ve seen are abandoned. help a girl out thank youuu 🫶🏼

Oh man, I wish I could tell ya! I haven't had the time to read fanfics lately, so I'm not sure if there are any recent ones I can recommend.

If you're a long-time ZoNami fan, you might've already heard of these two completed M-rated fics by AshaRose on Fanfiction.net:

Mystery Pants

Memory

And there's one completed explicit fic that I've been meaning to read on AO3 by StillPurplePanicking: Dry Spell

If you've already read these, I can only apologize lol - there just aren't too many fics out there for ZoNami, and it's been a long while since I've last read a long and completed ZoNami fic. I want to write more to add to the collection of ZoNami works out there, but it's been tough finding time to work on 'em.

My one attempt at a long fic is still on hiatus, but I'm hoping to jump back into it soon! It's unfortunate, but the ZoNami drought is real 🥲

(A shoutout to @harritudur for feeding us all those goregous ZoNami art during these tough times!)

[bandnerdlevel43]

Ravioli Week, Day Two- Tender Care (Sickfic, sequel to Day One)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli)

Summary: After a failed attempt to save Rulie, Hilda led Ravio and the others into hiding with nothing but a sick and injured Legend to show for their efforts. Everyone’s taking it badly- even Ravio, who’s Link is the only one free from the Shadow’s clutches, is unable to leave Legend’s side.

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Nothing major. Legend suffers the aftereffects of his time in Dink Jail, Ravio and Shadow are a little sad, Hilda is tired of Everything, mosty light angst with fluff at the end

A/N: I’m apologizing profusely yet again for being super late. In my defense, I hit a massive writer’s block after day one, and school has been the worst lately. At the same time, I didn’t want to quit Ravioli Week after being committed to it for so long, and this is the result. This was written in the midst of my dry spell, so it was mostly a sort of “practice run” with the focus on how each character bounces off of one another. I’ll be back to writing regularly (and maybe with better quality?) now that my braincells are working and school is over. Thank you so much!

----

“How is he?” Hilda asked.

Ravio blinked up at the Queen of Lorule from his spot beside Legend. Her hair was in a loose ponytail- he'd forgotten to help her braid it- and her makeup was minimal. It had been, ever since the rescue. Ravio couldn't judge. She had been preoccupied with other matters.

“His fever is getting worse,” he mumbled, softly running his fingers through the sleeping hero's hair. “His wounds haven't healed, and he's been coughing his throat raw.”

Hilda exhaled deeply. She sat beside him, joining him in his quiet vigil. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked intently.

“Saria's taking care of it,” he said.

“I'm talking about you, Ravio, not him.”

Ravio hesitated. He looked away and shook his head. 

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ravio lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. They were tired, likely from the strain of holding the group together. She really shouldn't be worrying about him, of all people. She knew he could take care of himself. Still, she continued. “Ravio, you haven't slept in days,” she hissed under her breath. “You haven't eaten, either. What's going on?”

Ravio flinched and chewed the inside of his cheek. “I-I'm sorry, I just-” he stammered. “I've- well, I've been worried, see, and I just haven't found the time-”

Legend shifted and grunted in his sleep. Ravio froze with his mouth open. He snapped it closed and frowned, pausing for a long moment.

“Never mind,” Hilda muttered. “Just… promise you'll eat your food and get some sleep.”

Ravio nodded absently and narrowed his eyes at the rise and fall of Legend's chest, his ears flicking in amusement.

Hilda sighed impatiently and stood, walking away with her cape snapping in the air. He felt a prick of guilt in his heart for ignoring her, but it wasn't long before it was swiftly packed away into the neat little box in the back of his head where he hid the rest of his cares and worries. He was always left with some form of sorrow or another whenever he did that, as if his mind was lamenting the passing of his own emotions.

What a silly thought.

“Hmm… Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Ravio asked the trees. He chuckled. “For shame, Mister Hero.”

Silence. 

“Did you hear something you liked?” he went on, his tone light. “Or did you notice the irony in her request? One of the two, if not both, I assume.”

My, the crickets sound rather beautiful tonight.

“Bold. But justified, probably,” he reasoned. “And it's so very Hilda of her.”

“It's because she cares about you.”

One of the shadows flickered, and a blood red eye stared at him from amidst the gloom. “Idiot,” its owner added.

Ravio smiled. “Shadow. I should've guessed Hilda wasn't the only one in character today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Meaning I expected Mister Hero- who is currently faking sleep- to answer.” He shrugged. “I suppose finding another nosy hero in the bushes should've been expected as well.”

Shadow emerged from his namesake with folded arms. “Very clever.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Legend grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Look, you're both very witty, but I'd bet each rupee in Ravio's pockets right now that Saria can hear every word you two are saying.”

Shadow snorted. “Doesn't matter. She'd know what our breath smelled like without even getting close.”

“It is somewhat of an inevitability,” Ravio conceded, “even if that is an absolutely horrible metaphor.”

“The kid knows things,” Shadow said, ignoring him. “You'll just have to get used to it, Blondie.”

It was almost funny how quickly Legend's expression went sour. Ravio had to give him a stern look to keep him from saying something insulting.

On the other hand, Shadow didn't show any signs of pleasure at successfully annoying him. His cap, which was normally very expressive, didn't curl or even twitch. Instead, it hung limply from his head. He must've been more depressed than he thought, Ravio realized with a pang.

“Look, Shadow, I’m-” Ravio started.

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted sharply. “I didn't come here to talk about myself. Or you, for the matter.”

Ravio wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “Care to tell us what you did come here to talk about?”

“Nothing,” the darkling responded curtly. He reached into the shadows and said, “Frankly, I'd rather not be here at all. But Saria and Aurora send their best wishes, and I'm the poor guy who has to bring ‘em.”

With that, he gifted Ravio a rag, a canteen, and a bottle filled with a shimmering gold-colored elixir. Ravio accepted them, dipping his head towards Shadow. Thank them for me, would you?” he said.

Shadow's only answer was a flick of his cap as he turned and let himself be swallowed by darkness. He left behind a lingering sense of melancholy.

Legend seemed to sense it, too. “Just like him to dampen the mood and leave,” he muttered.

Ravio winced and pointed out, “That's not really fair.” He's suffering, just like the rest of us.

When he didn't respond, Ravio shook his head and placed his hand over the other's heart. “You need to rest,” he said gently. “Here, drink this.”

He placed the bottle of elixir that Saria had cooked up for him in his hand. Legend cast it a suspicious glance before uncorking and downing it in one go. He grimaced as it went down.

“Water?” Ravio offered.

Legend shook his head.

“Take some anyway,” he insisted.

Legend scoffed, but grabbed the canteen and took a long drink. “Anything else you want me to inhale?” he asked sarcastically.

“Nothing else,” Ravio answered simply.

“Good, ‘cause I-”

Suddenly, yet another coughing fit struck, this one particularly nasty. His throat must be so raw by now, after having this sickness tear at him for so long. Ravio wrung his hands anxiously as he worked through it. There wasn't anything he could do, and he had always hated hearing it.

Luckily, it didn't take long for the coughing to abate. Legend groaned weakly. Ravio found himself shifting closer and allowing the frail hero to lean on him.

“Are you alright?” he asked nervously.

“I'm fine, Rav, stop worrying about me,” he rasped. He pursed his torn and bitten lips and reached again for the water. 

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Ravio, really.”

Ravio bit his tongue. He couldn't help it! He was so worried- terrified, even- that his lover would do something rash to prove he was strong, or something noble and courageous like that. Heroes were prone to being stubborn idiots and getting themselves hurt because of it. Besides, fretting over these stupid heroes was one of the few things he was actually good at.

“Could you at least try to sleep for a couple more hours?” Ravio persisted. 

Legend scowled. “Sleep is all I've been doing. Sleep during the day, sleep during the night, take an elixir, repeat.” He clenched his fists. “It's driving me insane. I want to do something, Rav.”

Ravio understood, he truly did. He just wished he'd stop being so obstinate about it. “If I take you for a walk after, would you do it?” he suggested.

Legend hesitated. He mulled that over in that frustratingly beautiful head of his, pretending not to care too much, but Ravio had seen how his ears had perked at the idea. He wasn't too surprised when Legend nodded.

Ravio wasted no time in gently pushing him back down into his bedroll and tucking him into his blankets. He doused the rag that Shadow had given him in water and wrung it out so it wasn't soggy. He placed the damp cloth on Legend's forehead. He didn't miss the tiny sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as it made contact with his burning skin. 

“Hilda’s right, you know,” Legend said abruptly. “You shouldn't be starving yourself for my sake. Or keeping yourself awake all night.”

Ravio stiffened. Lolia! Why was everyone worried about him? Would he never escape?

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call irony,” announced a tiny Shadow in his head. He metaphorically swatted it away.

“I'm not going to explode if you get a snack or something,” Legend informed him.

Ravio shot him a flat look. “Thanks,” he remarked. “I feel better already.”

“Ravio, I mean it.”

“You're being just as sarcastic, Mister Hero.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not!”

“I already know you're not going to explode. That's sarcasm, Link.”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you don't take care of yourself, I'll make you,” he warned.

“Oh?” Ravio raised a brow. “And how will you do that?”

Legend smirked. With a devious glint in his eye eerily similar to Tetra’s own, he pounced. Ravio yelped as he was tackled from his seat and wrestled into the hero's bedding. He strained to free himself, but to no avail. He was startlingly strong, even when sick! 

“Link, you're contagious!” he gasped.

“Should've thought about that during dinner last night,” he growled teasingly.

“How was I supposed to kn- ACK!”

Ravio let out an involuntary and extremely undignified squeak as Legend poked a finger into his side. Sensing weakness, Legend continued to prod him mercilessly. Ravio squealed and squirmed but Legend refused to relent. 

“Link! Stop it!” he giggled uncontrollably. “Let me go!”

Legend laughed at him! The audacity of that Hylian! He had half a mind to whack him with his own pillow.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he panted. “I'll do it, just let me go!”

Legend let him wriggle free and stumble to his feet, grinning mischievously up at him. Ravio's face was red, but he tried to hide his embarrassment by pretending to dust off his robes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mister Hero had the gall to say. “I'm sure Saria has something you can eat.”

Oh, Goddess, Saria! She had heard everything, hadn't she? Ravio groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“If you-” Legend began.

“Not a word out of you, Mister Hero,” Ravio chided. “You resorted to tickling to coerce me. How low the Hero of Legend has sunk!”

“Stop being dramatic,” he chuckled. “Now, scram. Eat some bread or something.”

“I'll have you know,” Ravio sniffed. “I am being as dramatic as the situation calls for.”

“Hey, I told you to get lost, didn't I? Go on, now. Shoo.” Legend waved his hands at him.

Ravio stuck his tongue out at him like they had when they were kids, bickering over trivial, meaningless things like the price of a hookshot or where to put Sheerow’s cage. It was almost unbelievable how dramatically things had evolved since then, yet some things were as familiar as ever. Goddess, he loved that man, even when he acted like a constipated raccoon with cacti for droppings. Maybe that's where he found the patience to turn around, approach Saria, and ask for one of the pastries she loves making. Her overjoyed expression almost made it worth the mortification of being teased about his husband.

When he returned, Legend was nestled in his blankets, curled into himself and snoring softly. Ravio found himself smiling as he brushed his pink-tinted locks from his lover's face.

He decided to eat the pastry. Legend deserved some sleep untormented by thoughts involving Ravio's own self-care.

It was the sweetest he'd had in a long time.

[roosterbox]

Stripper Steve/Writer Eddie

Inspired by my results from a NSFW generator tweet, lol. This is just a brainstorming session, mainly so I can put SOMETHING in my WIP folder for this idea.

Said results were: Stripper Steve, Writer Eddie, At a Gay Bar, Size Kink. Simple enough. It could be either a smutty PWP one-shot, or a smutty epic romance. I could see it going either way, but I never met a story I couldn’t spice up by adding romantic clichés.

So Writer!Eddie meets Stripper!Steve at a gay bar. Sparks fly, as they often do. Eddie has a bit of a size kink, and loves how strong and muscular Steve is compared to him. They talk a little bit about their respective professions (especially Steve, who wants to nip any anti-sex work or anti-stripper bias Eddie may have in the bud as quick as possible. He’s been slut-shamed about it way too many times to count; Eddie’s cool with it), and decide to head back to Eddie’s place to have sex. Turns out Eddie has a huge dick, and Steve has a size kink too.

[if this was a PWP one-shot, this is where it would end. But I love to complicate things, lol, and so it continues…]

Initially, the plan is just for a one night stand, but of course, this is Steddie, and they can’t get enough of each other. They start meeting up semi-regularly. And it’s not just sex either. Sometimes they have dinner beforehand. Sometimes one of them spends the night and stays for breakfast. It doesn’t take long for them to develop, ugh, FEELINGS. Eddie, who’s been in a bit of a creative dry spell lately, finds himself able to write again. Sometimes he’ll even read Steve a few passages from his novel in progress (Steve, who is semi-dozing beside him in bed, is only half-listening, but tells him it sounds good).

But eventually, because romance story cliché, some wires get crossed. Maybe Steve realizes he’s catching feelings (caught feelings, really - these boys are down BAD), and breaks things off. Maybe they both say hurtful things they don’t mean. It’s easy to be hurt when you’ve fallen so hard.

Some time later (idk, a year? Don’t press me for details, I’m spitballing here, lol), Eddie’s book comes out. Bestseller, naturally. It’s not specifically a love story, but the love is practically dripping off every page (not like that, ya nasty). It’s textual, but also abstract and symbolic. It’s painfully obvious to anyone who reads it that Eddie was in love, but it didn’t work out. Someone (Robin? Yeah, Robin) lends Steve the book and tells him to read it. Because she is wise and knows all. He does, and is incredibly touched and emotional about it. Because even though people have been teasing him for being “just a pretty face” his whole life (which he’s not of course), even Steve can read between the lines. In fact, he even recognizes a few lines in the book from Eddie reading them to him in bed. Said lines are essentially a love confession. And Steve realizes that even though he might have fucked up worse than anyone has ever fucked up in their life, he needs to see Eddie again. Even if Eddie ends up slamming the door in his face, which he’d deserve, he must.

At Eddie’s place, Eddie doesn’t immediately slam the door, but it’s a near thing. Steve starts off by telling him he read the book. That it was amazing. Talks about the symbolism. Talks about how much he related to the main characters (especially the one obviously based on himself). He’s rambling, a bit nervous and awkward, but it eventually becomes him talking about his own feelings. Getting a bit worked up. There may be a heartfelt apology in there somewhere. He’s essentially baring his entire heart and soul right there on Eddie’s doorstep.

Eddie, for his part, is cold to Steve at first. Which is understandable - he got his heart broken, after all. But the more Steve rambles, the softer Eddie gets, until he can feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Um,” Steve says, finally losing steam after god knows how long, “well. That’s it I guess. Sorry to just show up here. I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. I’ll see you around…” That last bit said with the air of ‘I know we’ll probably never see each other again.’

He turns to leave, already planning to head to Robin’s place to raid her ice cream freezer and cry, but before he gets even once step, Eddie grabs him. Pulls him inside. Shuts the door. Practically shoves him against it. He’s surprisingly strong for how skinny he is, as Steve had found out early in their…interactions.

“Steven Middle Name Harrington,” he growls, but he’s smiling. “You are, without a doubt, the single most insufferable human being I have ever met in my life. You leave your dirty socks on the floor, you let dishes sit for too long, your hair clogs the drain more than mine - which, how is that even possible? You have more beauty products than a cosmetics department, you snore like a lumberjack, and you can barely cook anything more advanced than instant ramen. And-“ he pauses. Steve winces; he’s torn because Eddie’s words sound angry, but he’s still smiling? Was that a tear? “And I love you so much it’s made me stupid because here I am, with you in my house again, in my arms, and all I want to do is kiss you silly.”

Steve smiles, letting his tears fall freely now. They both are. He reaches over to cup Eddie’s face in his hands.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” he tries to tease, but to Eddie it sounds more like “I love you too.”

The kiss feels like coming home. A very wet and salty coming home perhaps, but a homecoming nonetheless.

[starfall-spirit]

Again, thank you @azrielshadowssing for hosting the Summer ACOTAR Writing Circle. Just like the starting writer, @secret-third-thing, this is my first Elriel fic as well. Just as I said in my first contribution, my cocreators are of course welcome to save and reuse my banner if they'd like to. Anywhoseville, have fun reading my first Elriel piece!

CW: None.

Part I // Part 3 // Full Ao3

Elain learned a few things very early in her stay, first and foremost that despite having a few spare bedrooms, Feyre and Rhys were far too accustomed to living with only one another the past few months. She never felt the need to knock on a swinging kitchen door before, but she had no desire to catch her younger sister with her hand down her boyfriend’s pants that early in the morning ever again.

Elain was still a little red-faced when Feyre knocked on her bedroom door, coffee, eggs, and bacon in hand. The best apology her sister could muster while trying to contain her amusement. Yes, Feyre was a very different woman since deciding to run off to art school at nineteen.

Rhys somehow managed to balance guilt and smugness, apologizing to Elain before wrapping himself around her sister from behind and whispering something that had Feyre bright eyed and squirming against him.

Despite the scandalous morning, Elain was happy for her little sister. She could still remember the day Feyre called her out of the blue to tell Elain about how she just met the most beautiful man to ever walk the planet earth, bemoaning the fact their first meeting was the tragedy of Feyre spilling hot coffee all over his dress shirt when he was already late to a morning lecture. “And he was the professor!” Feyre had cried. His ‘preferred dry cleaner’s address'  turned out to be a little dinner bistro he was staking out. And the rest is history, as they say.

That spontaneous conversation was the first time they had talked like sisters in a fair decade and Elain was thrilled to be bonding again, finding herself picking up the phone anywhere between two weeks or two days to catch up on whatever had been peeving or pleasing her sister. Nesta took a little longer to familiarize herself, despite making her way to town before Elain. But they all came to realize soon enough that their lives could be better, mending bridges. So here they were, Nesta dating Feyre’s unofficial big brother and Elain flying in to lick her wounds in the company of family and new friends.

Except after her introduction at the gallery the day before, Elain wasn’t feeling quite so down in the dumps. Unlike her sisters however, she wasn’t the type to dive in on a whim. But maybe the summer could change that. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. The child in the middle, mediator and princess of the family, good for soothing squabbles. What if she wanted some sort of Hot Girl Summer too? 

That of course brought her mind back to yesterday’s introductions. One in particular, she supposed. She found her eyes rising from the gallery’s computer as a reserved chuckle met her ears. “When did you get so meticulous, Feyre?” Azriel was teasing her sister. 

“I’m sorry, Az. I can’t paint outside with the rain clouds coming in so I want the pieces in place before I start painting so we only have to deal with the tarps before the showing.” A half-dozen buckets of paint as well as brushes and rollers of various sizes were already scattered on the tarp beneath the wood forms Feyre had ordered for the showing. “This should be fine, actually. Thanks for helping shift things around.”

“Of course. Anytime, you know that.”

Rhysand’s friends and family certainly seemed to take a liking to Feyre. Realizing she was bordering on eavesdropping rather than overhearing at this point, Elain returned her focus to the desktop, triple checking the spellings on the guest list to be certain the tags she needed to print for the event would be without error.

“Elain,” her sister called. “Thank you for putting in so much work yesterday and today. I appreciate it.” She opened her wallet and slid a card free. “You two should go out and do something. Lunch or some summer fun going on. There’s all sorts of stuff around this time of year. I’m sure Az can show you.” They both started to argue. “No. I know you’re a pair of people pleasers who don’t expect anything, but I want to pay you back somehow. Even if you go buy a couple of hot dogs and chat for an hour. We’ve got four days until the showing. There’s plenty of time for all of the technical stuff to get done. Go take a break.”

Elain narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if her sister was really just offering them a break on her dime or if she was at some game. She’d heard Nesta mutter a time or two about Feyre’s enjoyment in matchmaking when it came to her and Cassian. “Go. The other people helping with the painting will be here soon and you two will just be in the way anyways. So shoo. Go. Lunch. Now.”

“I’ll be in the way behind the reception desk?” Oh, this was most definitely a set up. And she hadn’t quite decided if she was ready to walk into it.

~~~~~

Azriel hadn’t been sure if Feyre had caught him sneaking glances towards the front desk between shuffling the wood forms around the room, but with the way she practically shoved them out the door the moment the sets were in place his uncertainty was quickly cleared up. It was a big fat, “Please be more obvious you’re into my sister. Here’s some money, now go woo her.”

Of all the times for his mask to slip, it had to be in front of the meddlesome matchmaker.

Elain was quiet. Almost as quiet as himself, though he wasn’t sure if she was shy or just feeling awkward about being shoved out of the gallery with her sister’s credit card. Azriel had been the one to take the card in the end. Though he didn’t know much about the middle Archeron yet, he’d seen enough between Feyre and Nesta to know there were enough scars on their past to make taking money from one another difficult. 

As small a purchase as lunch may be, here Feyre was once again being that provider. Azriel wasn’t stupid enough to open the conversation with those suspicions. “So, are you settling for good?” he asked instead. “Here in New England?”

“For good, I’m not sure. But at the moment I don’t have much choice. Feyre and Nesta are the only family I have and my ex’s name was on my apartment lease back home.” Feyre had been in a mood when she heard about why Elain was breaking things off with her boyfriend. Az could understand wanting to stick by family while Elain got her feet under her. “It seems like a nice town, but…”

But she was the sister who wanted to take flight. “Feyre said you wanted to travel.”

“We weren’t in any position to see the world as children or teens. And then I invested in the store and never bothered with vacation time. I was a co-owner in a florist’s shop, but my partner knew what they were doing well enough to take on the load.”

“There’s a space open for rental in the square,” he found himself nearly blurting. “It just went on the market about a week ago, but I don’t think they’ve accepted any offers yet.” 

Elain was silent at that, eyes rising to the overcast sky. He kicked himself as the tension returned. He didn’t want to guilt her into staying, but his only substantial argument was her sisters’ happiness that Elain was joining them here and a potential business investment. The honest truth, he wanted her to stay so he could get to know her. He’d heard enough about her since Feyre reconnected with her sisters just as she met Rhys. He had been intrigued then, and their meeting yesterday had only piqued his curiosity, clipped and formal as their conversation was.

He cleared his throat softly. “There’s a great hole-in-the-wall pizza place around the corner if that sounds better than hot dogs.”

“Pizza’s good. Great.” He nodded, taking the next turn and holding the pizzeria’s door to let her through first. “Thanks.”

With the food down in front of them, conversation was lulled back into small-talk more than anything personal, but he sensed enough intrigue about the town to justify taking the scenic route back to the gallery, swinging by that empty shop beside Emerie’s. Elain’s eyes lingered a second too long.

“I think… I think I might take some time for a summer trip soon. And then think some more about what happens next.” To stay or fly some more. Take control of her fate one way or another. “You wouldn’t happen to know who I could call to ask about that space, would you?”

Azriel smiled. “I might have a name.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @azrielslight

[cheshire-shuntaro]

Cogito, ergo sum 1/?

For the monthly AU (Sci-Fi), where Chishiya after realizing he cannot outrun his sociopathic nature he takes certain measures to protect the ones he cares about from himself. Visitors are rare in the parts he resides, but... they appear. I cannot write short stuff, my apologies.

Niragi couldn't help but lick his lips in excitement, scanning every inch of the sharp-edged shape that their ship moved towards. After a dry spell in the last few months, it was almost like a sign from a higher power. An inactive exploration vessel, full of valuable equipment, so deep in outer space and so far away from the nearest colony. Takatora cursed Niragi the day he decided to risk it all and scout the deep outskirts of Andromeda for ships to pillage.

"There is nothing there, nothing but frozen rocks and active black holes! If we die, it's on you," Takatora shouted to Niragi, slamming shut the door to his cabin.

Well... who is laughing now? Niragi thought, trying to hide his smug smile from Takatora, who was in the middle of securing his suit for a spacewalk. Its original color was pearl white, but now it was almost dirt brown with countless holes and improvised stitches visible on the surface. Niragi was sure he had never seen his co-pilot clean it once, but he never commented on it. Takatora was really sensitive when it came to criticism, which made their job twice as hard.

"So... what are we thinking — xenobiologist mission gone wrong? Running out of fuel in deep space? All of them starving?" Niragi said, glancing at the vessel, which grew bigger with each passing second.

Takatora scoffed, not looking at his co-pilot. Still visibly upset that Niragi was right all along about this plan of his.

"In these parts? There is no life to research. The planets here are either barren wastelands or toxic gas giants," he retorted, putting his helmet on and closing it with a click and a hiss. "Besides..." he added, looking through the cockpit window. "...I don't see any emblems belonging to that fancy board of theirs. Star Rovers or something? This ship is completely unmarked, but this type was commonly used by them about thirty years ago."

"Engaging stealth-drive," Niragi said, pushing a button on the dashboard, ignoring Takatora's jabbing comments.

"Why waste the energy? We are at least 10 light years away from the nearest colony. No one comes here, except for us," Takatora muttered, shaking his head.

"Forewarned is forearmed, and can you... shut the fuck up already? We are close, focus," Niragi hush-yelled. He rarely lost patience these days, but Takatora had been especially annoying lately.

Niragi cocked his head as he analyzed the bleach-white surface of the exploration vessel. There weren't many curves to it. It looked rather practical with razor-sharp shapes plastered on top of each other, giving it a very industrial, old-world look. It looked like it could easily hold about 10 to 15 people, cargo included. The vessel was glistening in the countless stars of the deep outskirts of the Andromeda galaxy, but neither Niragi nor Takatora would ever notice the beauty of such an image. They were simple pirates and scavengers, a rotting limb on the body of society, driven by profit, not greater things in life.

Their ship was positioned towards the vessel's cargo door. The brief creaking of metallic parts and after that hooks jabbing themselves into the other ship told Niragi that the connection between the shuttles was secured. Now came the hard part: getting through the door. When exploration vessels went into energy conservation mode, the security protocols were "a bitch to break through," Takatora's words, not his. The tools they acquired better be worth their price.

The tunnel connecting the two ships was pitch black. Only the lights coming from their helmets illuminated the way. Takatora crouched by the thick metal door and opened up a large briefcase with different, colorful accouterments inside it. From Niragi's perspective, they looked impenetrable, but that is precisely why his co-pilot was the expert, not him.

"Look at this baby," Takatora said, in awe. He presented Niragi with a club-looking tool with a small, sharp wire at the end, which seemed to have a mind of its own. It was wriggling and vibrating, as if with anticipation to be used. "No ordinary wire-cutter. Military-grade, with a precise gyroscope and a thick diamond wire that could sustain temperatures u-..." he was cut off by a loud sigh.

"Yeah, yeah. You will make love to it later, open the damn door," Niragi hastened him, tapping impatiently on the metal floor of the tunnel.

Takatora grumbled something under his breath, twisting the club-like tool. It emanated a low ping sound and then turned green. Niragi’s co-pilot stood up and came to the minuscule gap between the door, and then, the wire-cutter with a mind of its own slithered in between the small crack, looking to do its job.

“Just so you know it’s gonna take a wh-” again, whatever Takatora was about to say was cut off.

A wave of vibrations of enormous proportion coming from the exploration vessel shook the tunnel, its metallic parts cracking and grinding against each other, almost as if they were shouting in agony. Takatora dropped the tool, which slid towards the south wall with a loud clank. Niragi lost balance and fell on his back, bruising his hip on the hard surface. When the vibrations stopped and the pirates gathered their bearings, they regrouped by the door.

“What the fuck was that? Did your precious tool cut the wrong wire?” Niragi huffed angrily in between labored breaths.

“I have no idea, it shouldn’t happen. Maybe we should…” Takatora fell silent but his eyes shot back to the entrance to their ship.

“No! No! Absolutely not!” Niragi shouted, massaging his bruised hip. “We’ve been floating around this dumpster, trying to find something valuable for about 3 months. If we come back empty-handed we’re done for.” He said, coming up to his co-pilot and grabbing him by his collar. “So, you will pick up your fancy dildo from the floor and keep cutting.” He ground the last three words out.

Takatora was not used to Niragi being this aggressive. He knew that whatever Hatter spoke with Niragi about before they left must have left the long-haired man terrified enough to not fear death, because a far worse fate awaited him back home.

“Alright, alright.” Takatora muttered, picking up his tool and getting into position again.

The wire slithered its way in-between the cracks again. Niragi held his breath. No vibrations, all seemed to be working, for now.

* * *

Shuntaro woke up to an unimaginable, searing pain, the kind that lingers long after it stops hurting. So, he screamed and yelled and his entire metallic entity cracked and vibrated with each shout and grunt of pain. Even though he had no limbs, he trashed around like an animal in its last dying moments. Even though he had no mouth, he could feel his throat swelling from the screaming.

Before the haze of a 5-year slumber left his mind, his first coherent thought after the pain subsided was “They are at the cargo door.” Still not fully grasping the situation, he jumped to the cargo door camera to asses the situation. Sure enough, in blueish hue of the door he noticed a thin wire swirling around the crack. He had about 15 minutes before they break through.

He turned on localization module, which barely worked with the spare generators running. Where even was he? Andromeda galaxy… far, far away from where he originally fell into slumber. Far away from his sister. Junko, she crossed his mind… he hoped she was okay. 3 minutes.

Chishiya jumped again, he had limbs now, metallic, pneumatic and wired ones, unlike those made of flesh. But they were there. He stretched to the cacophony of moving parts, a thick carbon fiber cable on his back reminding him that he could not go far. The first steps were that of a baby learning to walk - clumsy, uneasy. He took a step that was too wide and lost balance. The robotic suit crashed against the metal floor before he stood up and made his way towards the cargo door.

He had not had visitors in quite a while and could not help but feel restless and excited at the thought of having companions to play chess with. Sadly, without food and water humans did not last long.

Chishiya hoped they ate a sufficient meal before they entered him

* * *

“What was that?” Takatora said with his hand on the cargo door, about to push them open. He swore he heard something clutter on the other side of the door. It was faint but he heard it.

Niragi fell silent and listened, but he heard nothing worth noting except for the fancy cutting-wire tool whirling, finishing its job.

“The sound of you complaining.” He said sarcastically, passing Takatora by and pushing the door open for him. He was sick of him voicing concerns, he did not understand that they had no choice but to enter — whatever was on the other side.

The cargo door squeaked and hissed, the pressure between two vessels evening. When the clouds of white smoke fell down, they could finally see the inside of the exploration ship. It was… completely empty, except for one very odd-looking robot standing in the middle of the room.

“Huh? That’s it?” Niragi shouted, coming up deeper into the cargo bay. “Fuck this shit! Where is all the equipment?” He said, frantically lighting his helmet lamp around the empty room, completely ignoring the robotic entity in the middle of it.

“Relax, maybe they stored it above.” said Takatora, shining his own helmet light at the robot.

It looked like something out of a military base rather than a lab in an exploration vessel. A multitude of metal plates and pneumatic gears mashed together by military-grade carbon fiber wires. Capable of running, jumping… shooting. At the top of its funnel-like head, there was a single circular eye, probably functioning both as its optical device and as a light. It looked dormant for now.

Takatora came up closer and tapped at the eye two times. He did not hear the pneumatic gears releasing nor had a chance to stop what came next. With a swift precision, robotic arm got him by his throat, putting enough pressure on it to render him unconscious but also just enough to not crush it completely. Where was Niragi? Last time Takatora checked he was walking up the stairs to see the rest of the ship.

He fell to the floor with a thud, observing as the robot pushed a button on the back of his neck, his silhouette flickered in the dim light before becoming completely invisible.

Takatora suddenly felt extremely tired as the blackness took him.

[drawlfoy]

I can't tell you just how heartbroken Wonders of Ohio left me. I've only ever felt that way with one other fic, and even then WoO topped it. Unlike WoO, the other fic had a very clean cut ending to it (they both died at the end rip) so I wasn't left to my own thoughts about what could've happened after. Which might be why WoO has been absolutely haunting me for the past two days, it hasn't left my mind at all. I think about certain moments, the ending, oh god ESPECIALLY THE ENDING, AT LEAST once an hour. I get that familiar feeling of my throat drying up and my eyes begin to water when I think about it. Another reason being the way you write. I was able to immerse myself into the story and imagine what I was reading in my head, one specific case of this I remember was when Draco made Reader and himself late to school. When he was fidgeting in the passengers seat, his hair unkempt, I could almost see him. I imagined draco with his messy platinum hair, wearing a muggle polo shirt because its just so posh rich kid of him, nervous as he leaned over the middle compartment into the backseat as he performed that glamour spell. I've never been very creative and imaginative but with your writing it was easy for me. It reminded me of how I was able to do the same when reading the Harry Potter books, being able to almost live in that universe in my head was so refreshing. Anyways this is really long, SORRY, but when I saw that you also had a Tumblr (as I originally read your stories on AO3) I just had to look. I scrolled through your page for a while and I gasped when I eventually saw that you posted what you started on writing for a continued ending? (I don't know how to phrase it I'm sorry 😭) I read it and while WoO is still breaking my heart over and over again, I think I'll be able to think about it for longer than 5 minutes at a time without bursting into tears now. So thank you. 🩷

AHHH i’m so upset bc i typed out a whole response and the fucking tumblr app (count ur days staff) deleted it urghhh

anyway some points i’d like to hit (apologies for the length but i just wanted to give this the response it deserved):

1) first of all THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHABKYOU this was genuinely the highlight of my whole year. people like you are the reason i write and i’m being so genuine when i say that this message is like the kind of stuff i dream about getting as a writer. so in conc i’m kissing you on the mouth you didn’t need to but you wrote all of this out and for that i’m forever grateful

2) some thoughts on the ending: first of all IM SORRY lmaoo. i’ll let u in on a little secret: i actually originally planned on a completely different ending where y/n ended up using the box right off the bat and went back to england and spent the last half of the fic learning magic and interacting with the golden trio crew/the malfoys. i told this to a few writer friends and they made me realize that it wouldn’t be as useful in actually answering the silly question that i based the whole fic on (what would draco do if he was plopped in the middle of muggle america?). i decided then that i really was more interested in learning how draco’s character would develop as he came to love someone who was fundamentally differently from him (and didn’t first go through a change that departed from her basic character traits). from then on i realized that a happy ending wouldn’t involve either of them giving up their world at the end of the summer, since they needed to grow up a little bit (and at that point i was old enough to find the idea of giving up your entire life for a relationship at 18 completely terrifying). hence the sad ending…but i think in the long run it means that they end up having a much healthier dynamic later on!

3) if you want to know about what happened after the deleted scene you found: i left the ending so open because i always thought i’d come back to write another series where i explored what happened after, but i don’t think i’ll end up doing that so i’ll tell you what i was planning. i always imagined y/n eventually going to england after graduating and getting established in her career and learning magic (because like literally who wouldn’t if presented with that option). draco is just kind of like a stay at home husband who’s just psyched to be there.

4) thank you so so much for your note about how immersive WoO was!! i’m ngl i’ve always struggled with incorporating imagery into my work. i spent my formative years avoiding anything i considered to be purple prose and that really reflected in my writing. i’m not a super visual person so if i could mention the 3 details i think are important in each scene and could just get on with the meat of the plot, i would, so i’m so thrilled to hear that it was able to give you that experience as a reader despite the fact that i’ve always been worried that i can’t 🥹 thank you again for telling me all of this bc it genuinely warmed my heart i know that this is a little disjointed but oml this like made my day

ill stop talking now because i’m gonna get even more incoherent okok but thank you!!!!! <3

[setsujoumayu]

The Child of Eden (yet another himemiya anthy WIP except... wait, i haven't shared any of my utena WIPs here before, have i?)

i forget sometimes that my first return to tumblr was because i wanted to share WIPs XD

unfortunately, i've been in a very dry spell with regards to my writing. the last time i wrote some things were when i was feeling a lot of emotional turmoil. as of late, that turmoil is still there, but the oppressive nihilism/pessimism i'm carrying around suffocates those emotions that are easy to exploit for writing...

here's a snippet of one of those pieces i started just so i could funnel those intense feelings. i have about 2 or 3 anthy-centric WIPs but who knows when my next utena fic comes out. unlike the stuff i write for bnha, my utena pieces aren't just things i can pump out. i have a lot of feelings and thoughts, but they're hard to write about if i want to do utena justice. like, with bnha, i can write with subtlety (i hope) and create layered narratives (sometimes literally and also in the sense that there is plot going on, but paralleling that plot is a character's emotional journey.) with utena, i have a point i want to make, and the metaphors i choose must make that point but also can't be grounded in reality. i must constantly deconstruct reality, or maybe it's RUNNING from reality. but if i'm not careful, the piece mind end up being incomprehensible...

anyway, without further ado, here are random snippets of this piece i started writing, then stopped shortly after in march 22 of 2023. my apologies again for using images as text, i know it's not very accessible, but it's just more convenient to share like that for me.

CW: bodily injury

[glorious-poetato]

[Coffee conundrum]

Tommyinnit x reader

Warnings:none (correct me if I'm wrong)

Summary: Tommy and you meeting for the first time

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

        I had been day dreaming of future plans at work again only to be interrupt by the small chime of the bell signifying some had entered. Altho I didn't need the bell in this case as I saw two guys laughing and joking being quite loud if I do say so myself. I didn't mind though it had been a slow day anyway so not many people were at the Cafe at the time. The two guys began to walk my way that's when I took note of their appearance both being quite tall one shorter then the other though the shorter one had caught my eye with his blond curly hair and bright blue eyes. By the time I had taken in his appearance they had made it up to the counter. "Hello welcome to cassie's Cafe, what can I get for ya?" I said in a somewhat cheerful tone.

"Umm.. I'll take one small capacino please and a chocolate croissant." The taller one said "will that be it for the order?" I asked. The taller one then looked over at the blonde stood next to him and asked. "Tommy do you want any thing." "Oh um I'll have a chocolate croissant as well." Who I assumed to be tommy stated. "That will be all"the taller one said kind of quietly. "Okay all I need is a name for the order." I told them " wilbur" the taller man said calmly. The two walked away and I began on their order. ..

Wilbur pov:

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

"Tommy just go ask for their number.....the worst thing she can do is say no" I told tommy. I had been trying to get him to talk to the barista while we waited for are coffee. "Fine but aleast film from afar so if it goes bad I'll have some good content." Tommy told me as he stood up walking backwards for a moment. I was just about to tell him to look where he was walk but it was too late...

Your pov:

-----------

I had been bringing the coffees out when the blonde boy had ran into me spilling wilburs hot coffee all over me. " I'm so so sorry. I should have been watching were I was going." The boy quickly apologized. "It's alright can you take these to your table please" I said handing him the two croissants. I then walked away to grab some napkins to dry myself off and the rag for the floor. Returning to the spill I saw the boy Return. " I can buy you a new shirt if you need." He said to me"thankyou but I'm okay" I told to him "I'm tommy by the way." He blurted out "well nice to meet you tommy I'm y/n." You said "well y/n here's my number my number in case you change you mind about the shirt." He said handing me a small slip of paper. I took it and smiled as he walked off.  I walked back to the counter taking out my phone and making a new contact Tommy and texting "hey its y/n"

The end

Bonus

Tommy's pov:

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

"So chat that's how my coffee conundrum got me a girls number. But I'm a handsome man so she would have begged for my number anyway." I told chat

(This is my first time writing something so sorry if my Grammer or spelling is bad)

- poe <3

[passivenovember]

First chapter in Brush Fire, my shovel-talk fic wherein random adults and people in Billy’s life give Steve the shovel talk as the two fall, painfully, in love.

--

One: Carol

--

Thing is, Billy’s just Nancy Wheeler painted in contrasting shades of bullshit.

And Steve can’t pinpoint the day Hargrove turned into Billy, into a kaleidoscope that bleeds beyond asshole and dickwipe and evil step-brother, but really it’s all a side effect. A symptom of what’s coming, like a cough he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. 

‘Cause at the end of the day Billy’s smart and Steve. 

He’s got a thing for Brainiacs. 

The kind of smarts that could win bar trivia. Pay for a vacation to Europe with the money from an episode of Pyramid. Even better if the guy’s got claws. Pretty eyes that narrow alongside cheeks that blush pink and red, like gumdrops. 

“Help me write my essay,” Steve tells him, waiting outside Billy’s Advanced College Placement class with his collar popped. 

Billy’s smiling before Steve speaks to him. He’s chatting, limbs soft and smile wide, dorky, and then he hears that voice. Goes shocked still. Looks like he’s gonna piss his pants.

“I’ll, uh, see ya later, Bills,” Says that girl. Barb Holland. She pokes at the bridge of her glasses and disappears around the corner, shooting these worried little glances at Billy like he can’t take care of himself. Like he isn’t Hawkins High’s resident bad boy, player, macho-nacho–-

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

Billy’s teeth were pretty, Steve notes, when he was smiling. When he was happy. Now he's got this searing little twist to his lip, saddled with this sudden crash to reality. Steve shoves off the locker to make room for a pee-wee dork that says excuse me, calculating the way Billy’s baby blues have gone dry.

He’s exhausted and tired of it. Sick down to his fifteen-pack abs. 

“I want you to write my essay,” Steve repeats, thinking if he’s more direct Billy will go for it. 

Hargrove puffs out his chest. Squares his jaw. “Fuck no.” He says. Needing the fight.

“Wasn’t asking,” Steve says.

“I’m not writing your essay for you, dickweed.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“'cause no one’s gonna believe you can spell multi-syllable words,” Billy spits, “And I’m not dumbing myself down to whatever kindergarten level class you’re taking–-”

“God, you’re a menace. You’re a forest fire.”

Billy’s cheeks flare at that. Bright red, freckles punching through like holes in notebook paper and Steve knows it.

He’s got him. Hook and line, just like Nancy, but then Billy’s walking off down the hallway. Leaning in a little hard with his boots, stomping holes into the cement. 

Steve follows after him. Says, “I’ll pay you.”

And Billy says, “I don’t want your money.”

That makes Steve laugh. Loud and sudden. “Everyone wants my money.”

“Everyone wants you, right? King Steve. Whole place’d probably shut down if you graduated, right? Need the golden boy around. The gold eggs he lays in the shit-covered green just outside B-Hall,” Hargrove leads them round the corner, stopping to dial and yank his locker open. “God, you’re a fucker–”

“And you’ve got the highest marks in AP English,” Steve says. He leans against the metal closest to Billy, foot propped to pass the time. 

He'll wait.

He’s already won. He’s got what he came here for, but Billy needs time to work it out for himself. All those brains behind pretty blonde princess curls and Billy devotes all his energy to the glare Steve's pinned with. Billy hisses and spits like a drowned kitten, thinking he’s tough. 

“Not wasting my time on you, Harrington,” Billy says. Like it’s supposed to hurt. “You’re a lost cause. Might as well get Wheeler to suck your dick and write that shit for you-–”

“Watch your mouth," Steve says gently.

 Gotta be patient. Give the boy room to think it over, run it back, mold his pretty pinks into an apology. 

"Nancy and I broke up," Steve says, like it matters. 

Like the way his voice still hitches a little, at the end, shaky and vulnerable, will make a difference.

It does and it doesn't. "What would you even write about," Billy demands, ignoring him. "Being rich? How it feels to be born with a silver fucking spoon in your mouth?"

Steve tenses all over, poised to take the heat of Billy's onslaught if it'll get him what he wants.

Billy lens in presses harder. "Oh, what about the way you're a washed-up beauty queen? You gonna cry about the hours and hours you put into impressing the cows around here only to have them run right over your perfect hair to get to the next freak on the list?"

Steve won't bite. "You think my hair's perfect?" 

And maybe that's a step too far. 

Billy grips the metal locker so tight the thing almost groans, baby blues laced with a challenge. That little lip twist has turned into a snarl and Steve.

Almost backs away. 

Almost backs down.

But the flush is packed on like fresh snow, glittering and saturated with pinks and magentas. Steve really does need help with his essay, so he leans closer. Says, "What can I do to get your help on this?" 

And waits for the walls to crumble around them.

--

“You’re not fooling anyone, Harrington,” Carol says. "You think you've got this whole school wrapped around your fingers but I see what you're doing."

And Steve knows it's Carol without having to look up from the pin-lanes scribbled in red across his essay. Knows it without swallowing the tucked-away mashed potatoes at the corner of his mouth. Knows her voice like he knew the chimes that signaled the end of nap time, all those years ago. The stick of a bandaid peeled from her skin and patted, harshly, onto his before another go on the tire swing. 

He doesn’t look up at her to point out that, “If I were smart enough to fool anyone I wouldn’t need help editing this fuckin’ thing.”

But Carol doesn’t stop. Keeps rolling on. Says, in that special shade of periwinkle irritation that she used to save for Tommy, “You could’ve asked someone else.”

Steve glances at her. Notices her hair’s different. “What do you mean?”

“Billy,” Carol spits. Word travels fast. She looks over her shoulder. Scans the lunch room as if afraid that he’ll spring up from the linoleum. Knock the tray out of her fist, or something. She turns back, eyes narrowed. “You could’ve asked anyone else–-”

“He’s got the best marks in English.”

“So?”

“Like I’m gonna hinge my future on someone with anything less than a perfect grade,” Steve chuckles, trying to change its tune somewhere in the middle so Carol doesn’t take this as a notice of war. “Look, the guy’s my ticket outta this shithole.”

“Harrington, you’re stuck. Like the rest of us.” Carol says.

And the thing is? Carol was the first girl who proved chicks could be cool and dangerous and three-dimensional. They were flirts at one point and friends, way before that, giggles and weekend sleepovers stretching all the way back to a blue, cloud-covered room Steve can hardly remember, so. 

He knows Carol. 

Maybe not as well as he used to, but. He knows the girl. Feels like she’s got his neck in her fist, from how tight she’s gripping the lunch tray. Senses that if he makes one step out of line, she’ll dig her fangs into him. 

“What’s your deal, Perkins?”

Carol’s eyes could melt through bone. 

Steve takes the last bite of his mashed potatoes before shoving his tray to the other side of the table. “You got a crush on him or something?"

"What?" Carol says, incredulous.

"Look, I know you're sweet on him--"

"Harrington, you're such a skeez if you thought, for even a minute that I'd ever do that to Tommy--"

"Alright, you're friends will Billy, then," Steve says, exhausted from the theatrics. "You're like his scary big sister, protecting him from the wolf in GAP clothing."

"You're such a dumbass," Carol groans, like Steve's whole thing is getting old and she wishes he'd call it a day. "Why don't you beg Wheeler to tutor you?"

"This conversation is melting my brain."

"Seriously, it's not like she'd say no," Carol says, "She's still got a soft spot for you even if Byers is stuffing her full on a daily basis--"

"--Billy's got a better grade than Nance--"

"--I mean, seriously. Couldn't you pick on someone in your own academic caste?"

"Jesus, Carol, why do you care so much?" Steve drops the act, the good-natured small talk for old time's sake, and lets his words land like fists on the rickety table top. 

All at once, Carol looks older. Wiser and mean and so, so worried. 

"You know what your problem is, Harrington?"

"Enlighten me," Steve says, bored.

"You've never been told no a day in your life."

Billy walks through the lunchroom doors, then, a copy of Moby Dick under one arm and a spiral notebook snatched under the base of his lunch tray. His arms, stiff with forced swagger as he scans the crowd for Steve, jerk when they spot one another.

His cheeks are pink. 

From a million miles away, swimming through a river of pissed-off Perkins, Steve can see it. 

"That boy isn't any different from the rest of us," Carol says tightly. She grips her own lunch tray, and says, "He's sensitive."

Steve opens his mouth to shit all over the floor, and.

"He is," Carol tells him. "Think whatever you want to but I know him. Billy's rough around the edges but he's smart. Too smart for his own good--"

"Smart enough to deal with me?"

Carol's mouth snaps shut, frowning as Steve moves his lunch tray and Billy floats into view. 

"Harrington," He says sharply. Then, to Carol, "Perch Perkins, looking frosty today."

"Fuck off, Malibu Barbie," Carol says, but there's a softness there that takes Steve back to kindergarten. 

He swallows against a pang of jealousy, tracking the way her eyes go warm for this asshole.

Billy tacks a wet kiss to her forehead and then plops down onto the bench across from Steve, flipping to a blank page in his notebook, and Carol sulks away, looking every bit like she'd burn down the world to protect him.

--

Steve wishes he had been smart enough to recognize that conversation for what it was.

The first in a long line of people that, in the pit of themselves, for better or worse, whether they knew it or not: loved Billy Hargrove.

[lorkai]

Lilith headcanons

A/N: I'm a simple person, really. I was just sitting there in my room writing my AU and getting ready to finally post it as I was a few weeks late due to exams, except tumblr ate half the chapter. So I decided to write this headcanon instead of writing 3K again :)

Lilith was one of the dearest angels and well loved by everyone in the Celestial Realm, when she was very young she spent her days helping those who needed her help, assisting with all kinds of tasks no matter how difficult they were. She was the kind of sweet girl who went out of her way to make everyone happy and smile even if it made her unhappy - in parallel her descendants have the same ability no matter how small they have that one person they would do anything to take care of.

   Despite her sweet and innocent side, Lilith obviously had a scary, hard side that mostly manifested when she was angry. Sarcastic and dry, the angel is prone to saying things that hurt those around her when enraged, it's an explosive rage that leaves her shaking, the words simply slip from her lips before she can repair the damage she's done. But she's not as proud as her older brother, so she can easily apologize.

If I had to choose one of the avatars to associate with her, it would be wrath for the reasons mentioned above and I imagine that Satan and her would be best friends if given the chance to get to know each other. And also because a strong girl like her has to be patient enough to deal with her seven older brothers' bullshit without losing her sanity.

Necromancer AU! Lilith is simply a pioneer in magic. All sorts of magic had their roots through her, when she was still an angel and later when she was human, and she taught each of these spells to her most notable descendant, Mc. Her motherly tone and her affection for her descendants made Lilith seek to guide each of them to success and happiness, that she train them because of the angelic powers that ran in their blood until she found you, Mc.

While she would normally show you indirectly how to use your powers, Lilith felt you were one hell of a sheep with a high propensity for getting into trouble so she stuck with you more than she should have. She has grown fond of you as she has grown fond of every descendant she has come into contact with, and it's a good thing she stuck by you because there were a lot of problems you wouldn't be able to solve on your own.

Also, very unlike the other spirits, she doesn't have a reason to still be close to the world of the living. She knows that despite the pain, her brothers are safe and sound as are their descendants. But there's something extremely appealing about seeing the human world she's always loved keep progressing, keep blossoming into a better and fairer world, and besides, since she took you on as an apprentice, no day has been dull like before. You've always been a magnet for problems, some of them fun and some more serious than you could understand at that age.

[dxrkdreamer]

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

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

“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

[realityparty]

Hello! This is my first submission for #EddieMunsonWeek hosted by @stevelives​ and @natashxromanovf​ Eddie Munson Week: Day One, Rockstar AU

Title: I Love Playing with Fire eddie munson x ofc

Summary: Corroded Coffin finally managed to break out of Hawkins. They may not be on the charts, but their crowds are more than the five drunks at the local pub, and they are actually getting paid. However, they get a rude awakening of life on the road.  

Word Count: 3k Trigger Warning: 18+, Drug Use, Mentions of Racism, Smut. Apologies for any grammar/spelling errors Additional Comments: The movie “The Runaways” inspired some of this. I have fallen down the Eddie Munson rabbit hole. For all stories/blurbs for this submission, they are going to be Eddie x OC centric, with an OC named Jensen. I just became obsessed with this character I created because I do plan to eventually write an S4 AU (I have two different versions I have thought of for the far off future). So I hope you enjoy these small pieces, as writing has been a struggle for me lately and hopefully I can get some more creative juices flowing. 

Writing Links: Stranger Things Masterlist 

"This is such fucking bullshit!"

Eddie looks up as the front door to his motel room slams shut. Jensen, also known as Cherry Cola, to the general public, stomps in the room. 

Eddie stops plucking at his guitar as he looks at his bandmate and the lead singer of Corroded Coffin. Corroded Coffin had finally moved beyond the five drunks at the Hideout in Hawkins, Indiana. 

After an impulsive move to the City of Angels, Eddie swore it was sheer dumb luck that got him, Jeff, and Garreth to where they were now.

Jeff and Garreth had been ready to give up. Moving from such a small bible-thumping town to the kaleidoscope mixture of cultures Los Angeles brought was a tough transition. They were small fries and just another tale of failed aspirations, hoping to make it big. 

After all, they had always played for fun and they never seriously took their band as a means of livelihood. Hawkins didn't promote such things if it didn't involve the ideals of a nuclear family. 

Yet, he refused to go back to Hawkins with his tail tucked between his legs. He was going to show the entire population of Hawkins that he was someone. He was " The Freak" that was going to make something of himself.  

One day he was going to be on a stage and he was going to yell "Fuck Hawkins!" into the microphone. 

So Eddie knew when it came down to it, it was all about networking. And what better way was there to network than to go back to his profession of dealing? Reefer Rick had a contact, Argyle, that helped set him up and it was all charm and charisma. After all, he was one to receive and give flattery. 

He had somehow found his way at the Rainbow Bar & Grille speaking with Ezra Waylan, a music producer and manager. A demo was passed and Eddie had prayed to a God he felt abandoned by that this would be it. 

It was three weeks later when their money was about to dry up and the inevitable return to Hawkins was on the horizon when Ezra called their motel room to schedule a meeting. 

He remembers the day clearly as they arrived at an abandoned trailer park. He had been about to turn around when the door to the trailer burst open, revealing Ezra. The man had told them quickly that they were shit, but he was feeling charitable. 

He ushered them inside the cramped trailer, and that's when they met her. Jensen wore faded ripped jeans at the knees with a cropped Deep Purple shirt. She had a pair of yellow sunglasses acting as a headband as she sucked on a Dum-Dum.

She was going to be their lead singer. Corroded Coffin was going to be a female-fronted band. 

His life changed that day. 

"What's wrong?" He asks. 

Jensen throws her room key on the desk. "I went to check the schedule and to make sure the time was still the same for the sound check when I was informed that the opening act doesn't get that privilege."

Now, they were here on the road trying to get their name out as they supported their EP and using that buzz to land an actual record deal to record an album. Getting radio support wasn’t easy. So Ezra had told them word of mouth was the way to go. It meant performing non-stop as they worked on making fans and connections. 

It was certainly an adjustment period for all. 

One, they all were thrust together to form a band. He, Jeff, and Garreth at least knew each other. They were familiar with each other. They had that bond. Jensen was a stranger. They put her in a group of three men. It was expected of her to just trust them, not only with her dreams, but her general well-being. 

Somehow, it worked. Maybe it was fate that they all got along and could find their groove as a band. 

Either way, he knows they are going to be something, as Jensen has an amazing voice. Despite the guitars and drums, her vocals have a sultry feel that he believed would give them an edge over their peers. 

Eddie is excited about the future for once. But the real challenge came when they got on the road. 

Misogyny and racism filled the music world - especially the rock world. Eddie isn’t stupid despite the repeating of senior year a few times. He is fully aware of the privilege he has as a white man. Even with Jeff being another guitarist and just as a friend, he had witnessed how the world treated his friend in Hawkins. Now, in the rock world, they had a black guitarist and lead singer. 

The shit he heard and had to witness was disgusting. He hated the fact both Jensen and Jeff would tell him to ignore it. 

And now on tour as word-of-mouth spread and more people were talking about them than the main act, the childish and ignorant antics were increasing. 

So it does not surprise Eddie with them saying they don’t have the privilege of sound check. Eddie hates to say it, but the treatment of the lovely residents of Hawkins at least gave him some thick skin with this type of behavior. 

“They are just jealous, Jen,” he replies softly. 

Jensen grunts as she lays down next to him on the bed. She grabs a pillow and cradles it as she rests her head on it. 

Eddie bites his lip to hide the smile that threatens to overtake his lips. This was also a change he needed to come to terms with. He wants to blame it on the close quarters and the fact she is the only constant woman they are around. 

Besides, the fact they can jam out to Deep Purple, Metallica, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, and Dio without shame. He was in Heaven. She enjoyed the same things he did, from magazines to movies, and even food. Hell, with each stop on tour, they were steadily adding to his tatty collection with a few matching ones. 

And, it didn’t help that she was hot as fuck. Most would notice her sun-kissed, curly brown hair. It was her most distinctive feature. 

Yet, as he eyes her in a pair of jean shorts that were dangerously close to revealing the curve of her ass cheeks with a cropped plain white tee, it was always her thighs and ass that drew his attention. As much as they listened to heavy metal and rock, Jensen kept a stack of mixtapes of R&B. They listened to those to ‘cool down’ as she would say. 

It was forever seared in his brain, the way her hips moved as she danced along to Teddy Pendergrass crooning for them to turn off the lights. She had been wearing a tight emerald green velvet cocktail dress, as she called it, as she teased the fabric on her skin. Her fingers itched the hem of her dress higher up her thighs and it exposed him to the bat tattoo she copied from him. 

Yet, he told himself that he wouldn’t cross that line. They were work partners - friends. He knew it would be a bad feeling to begin any type of romantic entanglement. It would be messy and most likely ruin the band. They would not be a Fleetwood Mac 2.0. 

“You tell Garreth and Jeff?”

“Yeah, but they don’t get it.”

Eddie frowns as he understood the frustration. He knows when talking to Garreth and Jeff they had a blase attitude about all this. It was fun and exciting, but Eddie knows to make it requires discipline. He doesn’t think it settled in for them yet. 

The two of them were reading music and business magazines to understand contracts. It was making sure if they got a record deal that had the rights to their publishing and masters. It was them planning for their future. 

Eddie reaches out and his thumb brushes between her brows. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Jensen snorts. “I wouldn’t be if Ezra did his damn job.”

Eddie laughs. Ezra was cool to a point, but they both knew that Ezra was only thinking about how many zeros they could produce than the longevity they needed. “Well, that’s the music business, baby. We do all the hard work for someone else to get paid.”

Jensen buries her face into her pillow, and her words are muffled. “It sucks!”

Eddie brings his hand out and rubs her shoulders. “Was that all that happened?”

She stiffens as she keeps her head on the pillow. 

“Jen.”

She turns on her side. She doesn’t look at him as she plays with the strap of his guitar. “Eddie…”

Eddie gets up from the bed and paces. “I can’t handle this shit, Jen. It’s one thing for people to talk shit about our music and hell, maybe a performance. It’s different when it’s about you and fucking Jeff.”

Jensen moves to her back and sighs. “Eddie, you’re going to have to get used to this. People are just shitty.”

“This is shit,” Eddie replies. 

Jensen huffs, and she practically bounces off the bed. Her hands come out and grip the edge of his shirt and tug. “Just think, one day they will try to open for us.”

Eddie closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. His brown eyes peer into hers. He brings her into a hug and he ignores his heart, beating faster as she lays her head against his chest. “Well, I got a riff to a new song. You can tell me if you like it.”

Eddie has his guitar slung over his shoulder and Jensen has her yellow and orange microphone in her hands. After becoming victims to cut cords and strings, they never leave their equipment out. 

A cigarette is burning between his lips as they walk down to the dim hallway and past the room where the headliners have their own dressing room before Jensen comes to a full stop. Eddie stops as well. “What’s wrong?”

“I have an idea,” she states proudly. 

“Okay?”

Her brown eyes gleam, and he watches as she approaches the door to the dressing room. She presses her ear to the door. She seems satisfied and her hands clutch the doorknob. 

“Keep watch,” she tells him as she cracks open the door. 

His cigarette falls out of his mouth. “Keep watch? What the hell are you doing?”

A giggle escapes her lips as she scurries into the room. Eddie’s sneaker squeak against the floor as he rushes after her. His hand prevents the door from closing. Jensen is already by the band’s display of guitars. 

“Jensen, what the hell are you doing?” He whispers harshly. 

His eyes widen as she stands in front of the black and white Fender Stratocaster. The lead singer's guitar. He watches as she undoes the button of her black and white jeans. He whips around as he catches a flash of red lace. “Jensen?”

“Just keep watch alright,” she replies. 

He hears the splash first before the sigh escapes her lips. She’s pissing on their guitar. Eddie shakes his head, as he cannot believe the situation he is in. 

“Shit, do you think me pissing on their shit is going to give them more talent?” Jensen comments. 

“Oh hell, Jen,” Eddie replies and he can’t help the laugh that builds in his belly and escapes from his throat. Her giggle soon joins his, as she latches onto his forearm and drags them out of the room. Their laughs bounce off the walls as they rush to get ready for their set. 

Their set goes off without a hitch. They sold some CDs, cassettes, and homemade shirts after the show. They don’t bother watching the show. He isn’t too sure where Garreth and Jeff fucked off to after the show. Eddie and Jensen made camp in their room. They ordered a pizza. He had brought out some weed, and her cool-down mixtape was playing. 

She is in an oversized t-shirt as she dances on the bed. They had pushed the two twin beds together, and he watched, amused, as she nearly fell into the crack many times. 

Eddie watches with hazy eyes as the smoke caresses her. She smiles as “Between the Sheets” comes on. He takes a puff from his joint. As he exhales, he holds the joint out for her to take. 

Instead, she climbs into his lap and takes the joint. He doesn’t allow himself to linger on her thighs as the shirt rides up. She makes a noise of content as she inhales. She exhales the smoke into the air and watches it disappear into nothing.

She scoots closer to him and their chests are touching. He gets the overwhelming scent of tea tree oil and weed as they breathe each other’s air. She takes another hit.

Her small hands reach out and cup his chin. She brings her lips close to his. Eddie is at first hesitant, as he knows they shouldn’t cross this line. She parts her lips but doesn’t kiss him. He takes a second to realize what’s she doing. He inhales deeply as she releases the smoke in his mouth. 

She pulls back and grins. Her dimples prominent. He didn’t even realize his hands had moved to her thighs as he squeezes them. 

There are only two ways this could go. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he tells her. This is playing with fire. If one misstep happens between them, everything they are working hard to build can come crashing down. 

“We shouldn’t do a lot of things,” she counters.

Eddie goes to remove his rings when her voice stops him. “Don’t take them off.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow but says nothing. Eddie’s hand slips into her underwear. Her legs widen for him. She moans as his fingertips touch her clit. Jensen takes another hit and places the joint in the ashtray. She brings her mouth to his as he greedily accepts the smoke in his mouth. 

He quickly slides off her underwear and slides between her thighs. She bites her lip as she looks at him nervously. “We don’t have to do this,” he tells her. They could go back to acting like nothing happened. 

“I want to. I just want it to be good,” she tells him. “I’m not…I only done this a couple times. And it’s you.” She tells him with warm cheeks. 

“Me too,” he reassures her. Because of his status of being a freak in Hawkins, it wasn’t as if girls were lining up outside of his trailer. He may have gotten a few blowies and a hand job, but he didn’t have sex until a college girl was visiting her family and saw his show at the Hideout when he was 18. That was a couple of years ago. 

He uses his middle and index finger to spread her folds apart. Coating his fingers in her wetness, he gets a better look at her. He travels down her body and leaves a trail of kisses before he flicks his tongue inside her. 

She moans loudly, breathless. And damn, Eddie thinks he could hear that noise every day of his life. He pushes two fingers knuckle deep inside f her. Her walls clench around them and he can feel the ache that goes straight to his dick. 

He glances up at her as his tongue flicks her clit quickly. He doesn’t have much experience, but at least he is doing something right. 

She pulls her oversized shirt off her body and it rewarded him with the sight of her perky breast bouncing from the movement. One of her hands tangles into his hair and the other tweaks at her nipple. 

“Eddie…” Her breath hitched as he sucks on her clit and her legs try to wrap around his head. His hands stop her as he pushes her legs flat. He can feel her trying to move against his face as he fucks her with his tongue. 

He hears her release a growl of frustration. “Eddie…please!.”

Eddie takes mercy on her as releases his grip on her legs and pushes his fingers back in her, making his cool rings hit her chubby nub as he gives her a harsh suck on her clit. 

Her back arches and he can feel her pulsating around his tongue. Her thighs have him in a tight grip as she trembles and he has to move her legs back down. He is gentle as he pulls his fingers out as he places a kiss on her pussy. The curly-haired guitarist admires the wetness that coats her puffy lips, her thighs, and the sheets. 

He can’t help himself as he places another kiss on her thighs. But then he indulges himself by giving her a sharp bite, which makes her jump and hiss. He soothes the sting with his tongue before he makes work on giving her a hickey. 

He pulls back to admire the shiny bruise. A part of him is proud that when she wears her shorts, the bruise will be exposed. 

He looks at Jensen, her pupils blown. Nipples hard they look painful. He moves up and brings her in a deep kiss. He feels her hands move to his boxers. 

“Eddie, please, fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly removes his boxers and shirt. She whines as he has to pull back from her. He bends down and grabs his jeans for his wallet where he keeps a condom. 

He slips a teasing hand around his cock a few times before he slides on the condom. He thinks he could get off of Jensen just watching in pleasure. 

“Please, Eddie,” she begs as she fists the bedsheets. 

She spreads her legs and arches her back to prepare for the impact. He gradually pushes his cock into her and she gasps as it stretches her. Her hands come up and he can feel her fingers dig into his shoulders. He fills her to the hilt, and he gives her a moment to adjust to him. To him, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world and he tries to think of any disgusting thought to make this last longer. 

Jensen squeezes his sides with her thighs in acknowledgment that he can move. 

He rolls his hips tauntingly slow. He uses one hand to hold himself up as he thrusts into her. With his free hand, he cups her right breast and uses his thumb to flicker against the hard nipple. Her lips part with a moan and her fingers trail down from his shoulders to his spine until they fall to his ass. She squeezes delicately as her hips meet his thrusts. 

He buries his face into her neck as he moans loudly. The sound of skin slapping fills the room. Both of their bodies became slick with sweat and from her juices. He nips at her shoulder and leaves another a hickey. She cries out at a hard thrust and her legs tighten. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he cries out as he slams into her harder. 

Her body tenses and he moves his head from her neck. He replaces his hand on her breasts with his lips. He encloses around the hard bud and gives a small nip, and her back stiffens and arches. Her hands fly to his hair and she releases a single breathless gasp. Her walls tighten around him. 

She cries out his name, and it's the one thing he needs to bring him over the edge. He gives three final sloppy thrusts before he is cumming hard. He thinks he sees goddamn stars. 

“Wow,” she breathes in a whisper. Eddie looks deep into Jensen’s red-rimmed eyes. Her eyes were the color of cinnamon. Not chocolate, honey, or coffee, but cinnamon with a sparkle to them. 

He leans down and meets her lips. She eagerly kisses him back. Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him close as tongue and teeth clash sloppily. He keeps kissing her until he softens fully and pulls out of her heat. 

Her pussy clenches at the emptiness and for a minute, he wonders what it would be like to see his seed dripping out of her. He pulls off his condom and throws it away. He doesn’t want to leave the bed, but he knows they need to clean up a bit. 

“See sometimes it’s nice playing with fire,” she tells him sleepily. 

He laughs as he places a kiss on her nose. “I’ll be sure to remember that in fear you’ll piss on my guitar.”