#o8 fanfic

[blackacre13]

(Please excuse the random pm before, my brain apparently wasn't functioning.) Hello! I hope you are doing okay! I'm a bit desperate but I seem to remember a fic where Loubbie kidnap a child for a job in an estate that belonged to a relative of Debbie's. Debbie thought she was not good with kids but apparently she was. It was a bit angsty but also so soft. I think the fic has three parts? And I can't find it anywhere, but figure that you might hace written it or have some clue. Thank you and I love your works so much!!!!

This isn’t my prompt and it’s not ringing a bell. Can any of you detectives help?👀

[blackacre13]

😘

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black bands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleebloomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl, @mommasbigd, @heyitstacy, @misslauravillanueva, @fallenlostarchives, @infinitivesearch

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[ultradiqueer]

A 'Brief' Comment on the Quadrants (and how humans interact with them)

so this is gonna be a mess sorta cause im not good with formatting. also SORRY it took so long for this to be made im miserably low on motivation rn. but yaknow

For anyone who (somehow) isnt aware, the trollian quadrants are 4 separate, unique relationships a troll can be in. Hence the name "quadrants" since, yaknow,,, theres 4 of them

Of these 4 quadrants there are: 2 conciliatory, 2 concupiscent and 2 red, 2 black. Red-rom is for quadrants that are more centred on feelings of pity (being the trollian ~equivalent~ for love), and black-rom quadrants, hate

♥♦♠♣

♥ Matespritship (represented by the heart <3) is the red, concupiscent (Flushed) quadrant. It is the most similar to human romance, so I won't really explain it cause, yaknow, humans/non-trolls can experience it (and other trolls know what its like anyways)

♦ Moiraillegiance (represented by the diamond <>) is the red, conciliatory (Pale) quadrant. It centred on emotional regulation, extreme care expressed by both parties, and is generally utilised most in (social) troll society to help mitigate the extreme violence trolls are prone to

♠ Kismesissitude (represented by the spade <3<) is the black, concupiscent (Pitch) quadrant. Being a black-romance quadrant, it is more centred on feelings of hate, and is generally a more ~intense~ relationship as a result (keep in mind that feelings of Hate and just general Dislike for another troll are very clearly different, at least in my experience.)

♣ Auspisticism (represented by the club o8<) is the black, conciliatory (Ashen) quadrant. This quadrant in particular is an outlier from the others, at it contains 3 trolls (which is generally unheard of in regards to the other quadrants, which only contain 2). This quadrant arises when a 3rd troll feels Ashen for two trolls in a Kismesissitude (typically, the kismesissitude that one would feel Ashen FOR is unbalanced, or excessively violent). The third troll (being the Auspice, or Auspistice) would then mediate between the two Pitch trolls to ensure they dont Fucking Kill Each Other

♥♦♠♣

My problem with human's interactions with the quadrants is that: They don't understand them, and don't make an effort to.

When you see a human post about Matespritship, they get it right, since its the quadrant most comparable to typical human romance. That's all fine and good, obviously

The real issue arises when they try to talk about any of the OTHER quadrants

For example, Moiraillegiance. A lot of humans look at moiraillegiance as the "besties" or "best friends" quadrant. IT IS NOT. It is a ROMANCE. It is in the QUADRANT ROMANCE SYSTEM for god's sake.

Ashen romance clearly just goes over humans' heads. Most seem to not consider it at all when it comes to art or fanfic or anything, since its just seen as an "add-on" to Kismesissitude, which is WHOLLY incorrect, and frankly, really fucking rude. The Club is a quadrant that is centred on another trolls' Spade quadrant, yes, but that doesn't make the quadrant inherently less. It is just as important, and valuable, and REAL as any other quadrant, and frankly, I'm quite fucking tired of seeing how little humans seem to care.

And Pitch romance. Oh. My. God. I hesitate to say this is the most misrepresented quadrant, due to how wide-spread the issue is with Moiraillegiance. But holy god. If I see. Another fucking person. Say that "pitch romance is inherently abusive". I'm going to lose my mind. First of all: Trolls are an alien race. The concepts of abuse, romance, love (pity/hate) and so on are COMPLETELY different for us. People don't ever seem to take this in to account when talking about how ""toxic"" kismesissitudes are. Secondly: Did you even fucking READ the quadrant explanations? Like at all. Did you just skip over the Pitch quadrant? Pitch romance's MAIN FEELING is HATE. Fucking obviously theres going to be insults, and fighting. That is the nature of the quadrant!!!! Can pitch romance be abusive? Absolutely it can. just like how ANY OTHER QUADRANT can. But it being Pitch doesn't ~make it toxic~. Pitch romances can be abusive if theres an imbalance in hate, or manipulation or violence that exceeds the boundaries of what can be considered Pitch. For example, a purpleblood using chucklevoodoos to psychically torment their jadeblooded kismesis, even though it's been established that that is too far and excessively cruel, that would be considered abusive! If a kismesis emotionally manipulates their pitchmate? Abusive! A lot of things that would make human romance abusive do apply to pitch romance. But Pitch romance being ~kinda violent~ and involving ~Hate~ doesn't make it abusive by default, considering That Is The Nature Of The Quadrant (not that humans CARE because they're not trolls)

Additionally, I am extremely fucking bothered when humans use quadrant terms to describe their relationships with other humans/nontrolls. Because humans CANNOT EXPERIENCE THE QUADRANTS. They just Can't. It is not a thing they are Capable of experiencing. A human cannot be Pale for another human. Two humans cannot be Pitch for each other. And while human romance does fall close to Flushed romance, it is not the same, so the issue applies there as well. Humans cannot, and never will, experience the true emotional and romantic scope of the quadrants. A human cannot have a moirail (and someone calling their QPR their moirail does not work, because moiraillegiance is a romance). A human cannot have a kismesis (that'd just be a rival they have feelings for, which doesn't make it a kismesissitude). Ashen quadrants cannot exist between humans.

In the case of a human-troll romance, it's up to the troll to decide if they want to use quadrant terms (NOT the human. For reasons I hope are obvious considering the above ~rant~). If they decide to use quadrant terms, sure. Who am I to say anything about it. But it is woefully inappropriate (and I'd go so far as to say it bastardises the terms entirely) for humans to use quadrant terms for their relationships with other humans

As always, I'm totally down for asks or questions. Sorry it took so long for me to post about the quadrants lol

[ricochetmoon]

tfw you’re nearing the end of a fic but you didn’t actually plan it all the way out and now you have no freaking idea how the story should end and hate everything you’re writing. 

[psychdyke]

Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018) Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean Characters: Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Drinking & Talking, post-heist celebrations, they even say the p word, Partners in Crime

Summary: “So, tell me. Lou… what's that short for?” “Actually, it’s short for Lou,” the blonde replies. Somehow, she sounds both serious and teasing at once and Debbie is confused which way she means it. “Aww, come on, tell me... Please?” Debbie gives her her best puppy eyes, but Lou only glances over and grins, amused and the slightest bit endeared. “What’s Debbie short for, then?” “Oh no, I asked first!” “Then you'll never find out, baby.”

[widomauked]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean Characters: Lou Miller (Ocean's), Debbie Ocean Additional Tags: First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Exes to Lovers, Cigarettes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Introspection, Character Study Summary:

Debbie was very easy to fall in love with. She had this innate quality that pulled everyone into her orbit — and either they didn’t notice, or they didn’t care. They just wanted to be around her. Lou just wanted to be around her.

[blackacre13]

I’m going to get roasted for disappearing and then posting this as my only post in six months but I cannot get over this being a future published novel that is literally compared to O8 and is literally the name of one of my AO3 fics. Need to get my literary shit together 😭

(Yes, I am alive. I have just seriously neglected tumblr and writing fic/prompts and my health is a hot mess but I needed to share this in a world that understands)

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .12 [Tense, be warned]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, OOC Sukuna, a tense morning/ fight with sukuna (there r a lot of swapping povs in the first half i'm so sorry if it's confusing), y/n going on a date-ish with Nickolas, seeing yuji again, make-up attempt by sukuna, falling asleep together on the couch

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 8.222k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: Hey guys, it's been a while huh? Sorry for the long ass break (literally been a year since I last wrote, I think) but I hope I can make it up to you! I'm currently working on some things in my personal life that I hope will go smoothly, but since it's been so long, I decided to come back!! I hope to finish my Valentino fanfiction sometime soon along with Tiger Twins and Sex Exercise! Thanks for waiting on me, I've just been so busy... @@;

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

Sukuna couldn’t remember much from the night before. Just some late night drinking, a few annoyed shouts in his dorm. And then blank. But, that didn’t explain what he was doing on someone else’s couch right now.

Your couch, specifically.

Not on it either, on the floor next to it. 

A cooking pot for curry or big stews rested next to his head. Smelling of vomit and the alcohol he had consumed prior to even making his way over to your place. His brow was covered in a cold sweat as he tried to move a few of his fingers, all of them asleep either under his warm cheek or on the carpet next to him.

What the fuck happened?

“Morning.”

Sukuna’s body ached at the meer tone of your voice, struggling just to roll over and see you standing over him. Hands on your hips, pj’s wrinkled and messy, hair done up in the messiest bun he’s ever seen before.

Competing even with a side hoe’s messy handlebar…

“You gonna eat breakfast or what?” You say, voice stern and annoyed. “I’m not going to wait for you all day, y’know? Got classes.”

“....what..?”

“Haa.. Say what again and you’ll end up outside.”

Now, while you seemed royally pissed off, Sukuna was surprised that you hadn’t kicked him out the moment he had… touched you. It was hard to really compute the situation from his spot on the floor, seeing as seeing the melons on your chest filled your top pretty good. Wonderful sight actually, he should probably stay on the floor.

“Up in five minutes.” With a stomp, you and your melons walked back into the kitchen. The smell of sizzling bacon, eggs and toast wafted throughout the dorm room. The warm aroma of waffles cooking in a fryer made Sukuna’s stomach churn.

From hunger or the hangover, he chose not to dwell on which.

Taking a good few minutes to actually sit up, clutching his veiny hand onto the couch’s seat for dear life, the fluffy haired punk took a good deep breath. His lungs filled with the sweet smell of a home cooked meal and instantly he began to drool. Salivating at what your cooking could possibly taste like. 

Probably bad, Sukuna thought to himself, eyes barely able to open.

“The omelet and waffles are ready!” The sounds of clinking silverware and plates followed made Sukuna’s stomach growl even louder. Pain developed from the intensity of the churning in his gut, forcing him to stand to his feet and trudge ever so slowly to the kitchen. 

The shuffling sound of his socks alerting you rather quickly to the ever nearing male that has entered into your dorm. His tall frame nearly towered over you, thankfully it wasn’t like Gojo. Spatula scraping against the skillet as you put four strips of thick bacon on the plates between the eggs, waffles and slabs of sausage patties. Both plates next to two large cups of OJ. Grease and grizzle dribbling down the sides of the meat and mixing with the oil from the skillet and egg.

“Grab one and sit,” You usher Sukuna over to the small coffee table, putting away the cooking supplies and grabbing your own plate. “I’m gonna put on some news.”

“Don’t put that on,” Sukuna retorts, following after you and resting himself on the couch with you. Muttering to himself as you flipped between channels, justifying that you only needed to see the weather for the next few days.

While it wasn’t what it used to be, the meal reminded Sukuna of back home. Days when you, him and Yuji would be waking up the morning after a sleepover at your house. The glaring but gentle glow of the sunlight pouring between the blankets of a poorly built fort by you with the help of your father.

Sukuna remembered the soft feeling of plush animals on his cheeks, the warmth of the rays beating down through the blanket that hung overhead. He remembered the feelings he had when he was young– how his head never felt like it sat right on his shoulders when he sat up, the way his chest ached when he looked down at your sleeping form. Always with your hair a mess and your face littered with wrinkle marks. 

That irritating throb he’d feel just by seeing you so calm and relaxed..

You were always the second one up, no matter which brother woke up first, you were always there to bug the other into an early wake. While your habits were always strange, Sukuna found them endearing. Following in your steps silently as you wandered about the large home you used to roam with your small hands clasped around a stuffed animal. The sight of small, yawning, eye rubbing you was too cute. Making Sukuna laugh to himself at how you contrasted during the day when you were full of energy; always wanting to talk to him about different flowers and the garden while he liked to annoy you with beetles he found.

I tell her to let go of the past and here I am reminiscing on it.

“Sukuna? Are you even listening to me?” You shout with your lips in a tight pout. Hair slowly falling from your frazzled bun, gracing across your shoulders and back. Sukuna’s maroon orbs trailed over your figure as his brows began to furrow. Strange, you did change a lot since your previous encounter.

Did you get a haircut recently? Maybe a new body wash.

“Sorry,” Sukuna replied with a flat tone, rubbing morning crust from his eyes and turning his attention to the television. Once displayed news was now playing some random sitcom, something you often watched back home with your folks. “I was thinking of something– it’s not important though.”

“You always think of something else when I’m talking to you!”

When you didn’t get a reply, you let out a strained sigh and continued scarfing down the remnants of your breakfast. Piling waffle, sausage and egg into a small sandwich-like bite, covered in syrup and butter. Like a starved animal you devoured every morsel that remained on your plate. Only stopping to take a sip from your cup of OJ every few minutes or so; it was a miracle that you hadn’t begun choking yet.

Surprisingly, Sukuna was taking his time to eat. Maybe he was too tired to be how he normally is around food: ravenous. 

After you had finished gorging on your meal, you stole a glance at your watch and stood abruptly face, startling the man on your couch. “What are you doing now?”

“I am gonna be late for my meet-up with Nick,” You start, hurrying to wash off the plate and fork in the kitchen, quickly drying your hands off on a rag. “We have to go over our project ideas again before finalizing one.”

Sukuna’s brow twitches up slightly, his gaze watching you as you rush around the apartment gathering your things. That Nickolas guy, right? Yeah.

Did you have to bring that guy up now?

“I’m busy eating, y’know?” He utters under his breath, currently chewing the length of a sausage link. Pressing his dark brows together in a mixture of a pout and glare. “Don’t try to ruin my appetite. Your food tastes good, for once.”

You let out a strained sigh as you make your way to the bedroom, grabbing your bag and shifting through your previous notes into a binder. Making sure to pack some additional pens, pencils and erasers coupled with some notepads. While normally you always rushed out to study, you were in a rather big hurry today.

To try and escape a talk about the previous night..

Last night flashed through your mind over and over. From the hot and steamy breaths to the harsh, yet gentle caresses across your body. It was hard to pretend, to ignore the events. Acting as if nothing happened between you both. Did he even remember what he did? With how wasted he was, you guessed not. How irritating.

“I don’t get him,” You mutter to yourself, pausing your movements. A million and one thoughts continued to flash through your mind. All that time, all his annoyance with you. Just to turn around and pull a crazy stunt like that. And for what? To lure you back in?

To make you think of only him? What kind of an idiot does he take you for?

After a few moments of pondering, you brushed it aside. No matter what you did now, Sukuna either didn’t want to talk to you, or pushed you away. What point was there in trying to rekindle something that he didn’t want in return? The thing you should’ve come to terms with long ago.

You finished packing your things before slinging your bag over your shoulder, heading into the living room to see Sukuna huddled over the sink. Washing the dirty dishes, scrubbing mindlessly at the sticky syrup on the plates and juice in the cups. It was an odd sight, and somehow sweet.

“Leaving?” He muttered, lifting a plate up to look over it. Voice low and unusually quiet compared to normal, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes.”

The air became tense at the sound of plates clinking together in the dish holder. Running water turned from a constant stream to a pitter patter of droplets as Sukuna turned the sink’s knob, wiping his hands off on a small hand rag next to it.

“..Don't you,” Slipping a hand into his pocket, Sukuna let out a sharp grunt. His free hand coming up to scratch at his nape, disheveling already messy hair. “Don't you want to talk about.. it?”

“Not particularly.”

Shit, this is harder than he thought.

“I figured you'd wanted to, since you're always going on about wanting to talk to me. Not in the mood? Or is this new guy important now?”

The question was returned with a confused brow lift. “More important?” 

Sukuna never felt so frustrated and annoyed, even after such a good meal right in the morning as a hangover cure. He could tell something was just off. You were avoiding him, barely taking glances at him. Just focusing your eyes forward.

He didn’t understand what happened last night to get you to act like this with him, but frankly it’s irritating. Especially with how big this aching throb going on in his chest was. It was an odd feeling he hasn’t had for a while, and he couldn’t tell if it was just his regular annoyance with you or.. Something else.

“He’s not ‘more important’,” You say, shaking your head, squeezing the strap of your bag before turning to the door. “My education is and I’m trying my best.”

“Stop looking away from me!”

Before Sukuna could blink, his hand was wrapped around your wrist. Squeezing just enough for a numb throb to course through your hand. It was like a blur, one moment he was next to the kitchen counter and the next he was near toe to toe with your smaller frame. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, a small vein pumping across his jugular. Your expression only mirrored his, but with a mix of fear and befuddlement.

Don’t make that face with him.. He hates it.

“What’s gotten into you?” A mumble escaped your lips, your pretty little lips. The cute, plump flesh he’s imagined often recently. Along with your eyes, making him dizzy at how they’d roll like your hips; having him start to wonder what your dazed and blissed out look must’ve been–

 “Sukuna!”

Barely a flinch, just a quick blink of the eyes as his face relaxed, mirroring yours near perfectly. Taking in the moment, Sukuna looked down at his hand. The large, calloused palm and fingers grasped onto a smaller and delicate wrist. His own massive compared to yours, decorated with the black bands of his tattoo. So, so different you’ve become.

Without a word, Sukuna stepped closer. Refusing to release your wrist but instead letting his hand glide down to meet with yours. What was he doing? He doesn’t know. He thought he didn’t need you. He doesn’t. 

“Kid–”

“Don’t start with me!”

His marooned orbs lift from your connected hands, his fingers barely gripping onto yours. Why does he do this? It’s frustrating. Feeling his warm hands, how gentle they contrasted to the night before. How he’s behaving now to when you first reunited. The questions wouldn’t come out, the intensity only building brick by painful brick in your mind.

You can’t take this type of torture, this pain.

“I’ve had to deal with you since I first tried talking to you,” You start, feeling a burning sensation in your eyes, a sharp throb in your chest. Face downcast, your reddening eyes barely able to focus on the small connection between the both of you.

His hand reached for yours, holding your fingers like they were delicate porcelain unlike before. When he didn’t so much as let you care for him when he was sick. Reminding you constantly that every little kiss, gentle caress, it was an accident. That nothing he showed was true, pure.

The mere fact he came wobbling to your door the night before black-out drunk was proof enough that this was the same event all over again.

“You’re telling me not to get attached then turn around and kiss me! Tell me that it means nothing but you hold me close as if I’m going to run away from you! I can’t stand it, I can’t stand you.”

You could feel it, your heart tearing in two. The connection you craved was never there. It fizzled away like bubbles in a tub, gone after enjoyment for a little while. Too different to try, too different to change. If only you realized this sooner. It was only until you lifted your gaze to look up at him that you felt your tears dripping. You probably looked like some child having a fit, but it didn’t matter.

You were tired of it.

“All you’ve done is make me feel confused and upset,” It felt like venom saying these things. Poison. A poison meant to destroy your heart. So tense, it felt like it wasn’t beating at all despite its thunderous beat pumping in your ears. “I’m sick of feeling this. Before I knew you were here, it was easier. I was focused on more than my heart and how it felt all the time.”

“Brat.”

“I was able to pay attention in class, it didn’t feel draining being around people–!!”

“Y/n!”

In an attempt to pull you into his embrace, Sukuna grabbed your hand and brought you to his chest. Hooking his large arm around your nape to press your weeping face into his chest, to try and silence your cries. But you fought back, slipping your hand from his, breaking what little hope Sukuna desired to have between you. To think before he didn’t give even an ounce of a fuck when he first arrived.

That there was no care in the world before, but seeing you now. Seeing this hurt he’s caused, the shameful tears. It was enough to make him want to snap– to scream, to punch a hole through the wall –but he instead opted to bring you into his space. You coddle your head into his chest, trying to rub gentle and therapeutic circles with his thumb into your neck even at the awkward angle.

What does he do? What can he do?

He’s never felt so impulsed before, so inclined. It wasn’t in his nature to feel this petrified, this conflicted.

“Y/n, stop sobbing,” Sukuna muttered into your ear, trying to hold you in place as you continued to fight and squirm against his hold. “You don’t look as pretty when you cry like this.”

“I don’t care how I look to you!” You shot back, managing to push him away from your trembling form. Your hair became a mess before him. Looking more and more deranged by the second as you tried to calm yourself, failing all the while. “It’s not your place to look at me.”

A mix of surprise and shame fell across Sukuna’s brow, a clash against his annoyed gaze. You could tell he was unsure of what to do. He never was sure how to comfort someone, even you when you were a kid. His hands clenching and unclenching into fists be his sides, arms tensing with each flex of his muscles. His mind raced a thousand miles an hour at thoughts of what to say before they were fogged up by your hand on his jaw.

Yanking his face being pulled down to become eye level with you, your fingers digging into the meat of his cheek and forcing his lips to pout. Exposing a few of his teeth along with a sweat droplet on the side of his temple. He looked like a lost cub desperate for his momma to come save him.

Pathetic looking.

“I’m tired,” You repeated, your cheeks beginning to dry as the tears stopped. “I’m tired of the back and forth. Of embarrassing myself for you.”

Sukuna could see your mind begin to ease, to feel reassured with itself. The calm eyes despite the redness. It worried him. He had the right to worry, you wanted to let him go.

You released your grasp on his chin, his hand coming to rub at the pinkish imprints on his cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. Stuck in a stiff silence until you began to reorganize yourself, fixing your hair and wiping your eyes, your sniffles the only sound Sukuna could hear. “You don’t have to leave if you’re still feeling sick, but make sure to keep to yourself.”

Not another word was spared as you turned to the door, no glance back to see his expression as you opened the door like you’ve done before. Just a quiet exit of your home, leaving Sukuna and his muffled thoughts behind. While the ache in your chest was still present, there was no longer a weight on your shoulders. Letting you leave freely, to attempt to go back to your day to day.

Traversing down the hallway, looking for your phone in your pocket to call your classmate for a meet-up. To try and at least calm yourself before having to return to a, hopefully, empty dorm.

Sukuna was speechless, still, quiet.

Staring blankly at the door that blocked his sight from you, to chase after you. It was like an alarm in his head going off, feeling regret. Like the sting of bitter before the sweet, Sukuna wanted to run after you. Yet he stood in his spot, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner. Except it felt like it would be longer than a day, it’d be another 12 years before he could see you.

To see how you’d changed, to talk to you, to hold you in his arms.

Why didn’t he do that at first? Why was he so bitter before again?

“Brat..” He muttered to himself as if you’d hear it and come running back to him. How could he expect you to do that when he’s done nothing but blow you off that whole time. “Y/n.”

All those letters he sent, all of them with no responses. It seems so petty. He held onto that fact for so long, as if it was your fault. For trying to make a life for yourself, he held it on you. And now that he’s seen the extent of what he’s done, he’s left quiet in your home.

The muffle of the TV blasting some random show in the background to mix with the throbbing in his ears.

“..Don't.. leave again.”

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

The soft hustle and bustle of the library was mind numbing.

It felt as if you were listening to music that wasn’t really playing, it was a hallucination of a melody. A sweet melody, one that you used to listen to but you didn’t know the name. Or if it was a meal you hadn’t eaten but you desired so bad, had no money to even afford to pay for it at a store you loved. Hard to pinpoint what feelings were swirling in your head, but they weren’t any good.

That’s why, when you heard the soft tap of your partner’s shoes and a small “hey” from behind you, your shoulders relaxed instantly.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Nickolas asked, his head tilted just enough to let a few strands of hair fall gracefully from his shoulder. His slight accent is like a sweet, honey contrast to Sukuna’s from that morning. “If you missed me so much you could’ve called.”

“Nick,” You mumble weakly, trying to hide the fact you had indeed missed him even though you met not so long ago. “It’d be rude of me to, especially when you’re busy.”

In the little time you had shared together you learned quite a lot about your new friend.

He was a part-time employee at his grandfather’s mechanic’s shop, though he did most of the work just to help as his real passion was cooking. Nickolas enjoyed making carne asada fries with sour cream and extra jalapeno on his lunch breaks at work whenever he had the chance. Not only did he love the good smells and the tasteful bites that came with cooking, he loved the math behind it, the science. Always thinking that his next meal could be a perfect equation each time, 

Pastries were a little harder for him, but Nick always loved a good challenge.

“I’m not so busy nowadays,” He said, interrupting your train of thought momentarily as he sat next to you. “Abuelo isn’t at the shop most of the time and I’m not allowed to run the place without him. He got sick.”

“Ah, sorry,” You reply, sitting up in your spot and bringing out your notes. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He just pushed himself a little too much one day and needs rest.”

You continued to catch up for a few minutes before Nickolas brought up the night before, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at the mention of it, but you obliged. Telling him that Sukuna was still resting at your place with a hangover and to not worry too much, it was a common occurrence.

“I hope so,” Nickolas flipped a few pages in his notebook as his laptop sat, booting up for the next hour-long discussion about your shared upcoming project. “When I saw him, he looked pretty out of shape.”

“He’s always out of shape.”

Nickolas was surprised by the retort, quickly turning to scan your face. Instantly noting the frustrated look and red eyes once more. “Something happened, didn’t it.. Was it me?”

The quiet shake of your head worried him, but it’s not like he could pry all that much. He turned his attention from you to the books that were sprawled out in a manner of minutes for the project. All the notes, all the studying. It must’ve been draining for you. So, without a second thought, Nickolas lifted his books and began snapping them closed, much to your surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“We are going out, I’m not in the mood to study right now.”

He left you jaw dropped and mind fumbling for words: What?

Nickolas stood from his seat at the table and began doing the same to your notepads and pulling pencils away from your grasp. Placing your things in your bag and gently resting a soft hand on your shoulder to shake you, to bring you back from whatever land you were visiting and back to Earth.

“Let’s go out today,” He said, a smirk playing on his pierced lips. “I’m really hungry. Missed lunch because of my professor.”

“Uhm,” What were you going to say? No? It’s food. “Sure, let’s.. Let’s get something to eat.”

Nickolas finished packing your things rather quickly, leaving you stunned as you followed behind him out of the library. Walking past a few small groups of friends and lone students studying for classes, leaving the calm atmosphere into the bustling noise of the main entrance area. Brushing aside your confusion, you were actually glad deep down. A break from school, a break from Sukuna, a break in general.

It was a desire you never really got to enjoy since you were so busy trying to make the most of your parent’s sacrifices to even get you into the school.

“I will warn you, my tastes are on the extreme end,” Nickolas blurted, letting his bag hang from his shoulder and he lifted his hair. Tying it up into a tight bun while some loose strands rested behind his ears and some draped across his forehead. “Hope it’s not that big of a problem.”

“Not at all.”

The both of you continued to talk about food as you made your way to the parking lot, chattering like birds on a line about different kinds of BBQ shops that were nearby, along with a large buffet that you visited frequently. Right as you reach the lot, you see a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk with a bike at his side. 

Fluffy pink hair, a jersey hanging over his shoulder and noticeable scars under his bright honey eyes. It was Yuji.

Quickly he spotted you, a smile lifting the corners of his lips as he picked up his pace. Letting his hand temporarily leave its spot on one of the handles to wave at you. “Y/n! It’s been so long since I saw you!”

You could tell that he’s been working out recently, his arms and chest looked more toned than before. It made you giggle at the contrast of the brothers. One was a baby-faced sweetheart and the other was a really dickhead. Somehow, they continued to have similar builds and features (no matter how many tattoos Sukuna got).

In moments you were in his arms, his little teases and giggles echoing in your head as you caught up. Leaving Nickolas to get his motorcycle ready to ride, climbing onto the seat and starting up the engine. The roar of it alone sends vibrations into the concrete ground underneath the powerful machine. Its cold, black paint job was decorated with a silver ghost flame design and the rims shining bright to match. 

Yuji took no time to waste as he introduced himself to the rider, giving his same boyishly adorable smile as always. “I’m Itadori Yuji! Are you guys about to go somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Nickolas hummed, leaning forwards on the steering and letting his weight move the heavy machine beneath him slightly. “I’m about to get some BBQ and maybe.. Some boba.”

Yuji smiled even brighter (somehow even beating the sun) before turning his attention back to you. His face turned from real cheerful to a concerned look in seconds, reaching a hand up to trace the line of your jaw. “What’s wrong with your eyes? Tired?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” You mumble, brushing Yuji’s arm away, trying to force a soft smile that’d deter him from prying. But by the look on his face, Yuji wasn’t about to give up.

“I was going to come visit Sukuna for a bit to tell him about my classes, but clearly I need to talk to him about something else.”

“Yuji, really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Clearly it wasn’t going to work talking Yuji down from a discussion with Sukuna, you eventually gave up. There was no fighting him, not like you really had planned to. You were done with fighting for now, it was draining.

“Other than that,” Yuji said, giving your hair a tussle before giving you a side hug. “I gotta go anyways, I’ll call you tonight once I’m home. They’re letting everyone out on holiday early since our semester tests were so high.”

“That’s good.”

You returned the hug with as much strength as you could muster, earning a back rub and a quick peck on the head. Yuji was gone just as soon as he had arrived, admitting that he was in fact about to run late for another class at the moment anyways and wishing he could join the both of you, before rushing off into the campus. Off to find his misbehaving brother– as he put it– and leaving you alone once again with your Economics partner.

“He’s a go-lucky kinda guy,” Nick’s voice rang from behind you, a smirk on his lips. “I’m assuming that’s your boyfriend or something?”

You pout, folding your arms over your coat. “I couldn’t imagine dating Yuji. He’s much too sweet.”

“I see.”

His hand lifted in offering, nodding to the small seat behind him. “Hop on, it’s gonna get dark before you know it.”

You take a second to glance back at the area Yuji disappeared to, not seeing him anywhere. He must’ve been in quite an actual hurry to disappear so fast. Looking away, you took Nick’s hand. His fingers holding onto yours in a warm squeeze, smooth and strong compared to Sukuna’s thick and rough ones. It was a change that you didn’t think you’d need.

Nick guided you behind him onto the bike, handing you his (much too big) helmet and pushing it down over your hair. He gave it a few pats and lifted the visor. “Make sure that’s on tight, okay? Don’t want a pretty thing like you falling off.”

Your cheeks deepened in color, thankfully it was covered by the helmet’s rim. After checking on your posture and a few things on his bike, Nickolas guided the wheels backwards. Turning ever so slightly to face the exit of the parking area, looking over his shoulder back at you with a smile.

“Might want to hold on, Y/n. Motor’s aren’t exactly a four wheeled tin can.”

There was some hesitation as your arms guided their way around his waist. Your cheeks continued to burn underneath the safety of the helmet, guarding your flustered expression from all eyes. There was a quick tap as Nick closed the visor for you and revved up the engine. Kicking off the bike and turning out to the street, leaving you to your own devices in the passenger seat.

Clinging onto his robust waist in a desperate attempt to keep yourself steady on the moving monster.

The sounds of traffic and the radio started to clash as he drove farther and farther away from campus. The lights dimming in the background as street lights and nearby signs started to fill your sight. In your chest you started to feel lighter, even if you were clinging onto Nickolas to calm yourself and stay steady, the feeling of relief started to wash over you.

You slowly started to lift your head as cars started to pass by you, taking a deep breath and resting your cheek on the driver’s shoulder. The smell of the city made you miss the scent of the Sticks, of your old home and the Willow Tree. Even the old barn that the elders of the village warned not to visit in fear of ‘evil spirits.’

The flashing lights contrasted the millions of stars that would shine so bright in the middle of night. Stars alone in the Sticks felt like a magic show to young you. Your mother had always teased and said that a bunch of fireflies flew too close to try and reach the moon and got stuck in the sky, leaving their lights to help guide others to it in their stead.

“Moths have gotten lost up there too,” She would say, laying next to you in your old backyard. Pointing to different formations that the lights made, giving you tickles and kisses all the while. “They think the moon is like a giant light, they want to be with it so bad they’re willing to fly up towards it no matter the cost.”

Your mind continued to wander, remembering random things you got to do while you were living in that small village. Trees that grew alongside the streets of the road could never quite grow as big as the Willow Tree either.

“There’s magic that keeps it so tall and proud,” Your father’s cool tone always hummed, letting you rest in his lap as he read you another book. “It doesn’t like wilting, even in winter.”

You always loved their stories and tales, and had fun making them with them. 

All the while Sukuna was there too, it was like bliss.

Although he was mostly brooding at his young age, he liked to play pranks on you and Yuji. Always chasing you around and messing with the family cat. Bringing presents for your parents and sitting to listen to the stories in the books they lent to you. 

He was so cute back then..

Compared to now, You thought to yourself, feeling the breeze begin to still as Nick made a turn. Pulling into a somewhat busy parking lot of a buffet restaurant. He’s a different kind.

“Alright, Y/n,” He said, parking in between a truck and some SUV a family must’ve owned before turning back to you. “We’re here.”

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

Enchiladas, red beans, rice, and peppers sat on your plate. Warm, covered in cheese and sauce covering the food while Nickolas’s was different. It was carne asada fries, extra peppers and sour cream on the side. Obviously.

“Dig in, my stomach’s growling!” He chuckles, not wasting any time helping himself. Letting you giggle and mess with him about the way he eats, but only returning the jokes as you begin to eat.

It made you forget about the day, about the project, about everything. Letting your head relax and your brain go blank, it’s been so long since you’ve been able to. Getting to know each other more, talking about your favorite topics. You could’ve sworn that that morning was just a bad dream, a small dent in your day. And it was all thanks to Nickolas for trying to cheer you up. You were gonna have to repay him somehow over this, letting him see you in such a state was hard to recover, but it’ll work itself out.

“The food here is better than I thought,” You muffled through a mouthful, chewing quickly as if you were both in the middle of an eating competition. “I’ll have to ask Yuji if he’d like coming here.”

“Mgh, he looks like the type to eat anything as long as it’s good,” Nickolas responded, gulping down some water to combat the spice of the cheese, eating a morsel of bread before continuing his food shoveling.

“You’d be surprised, he’s really picky.”

You and Nickolas continued to talk and eat, standing to grab more food, talking the day away in that little buffet. Splurging and going to get dessert a few times until your stomachs were practically bloating with too much to carry. It was fun, exciting. It felt almost like how home felt.

Comforting.

“Are you sure we can get boba? I think I’ll vomit!”

“I want strawberry milk tea, Nick. Besides, you offered. It’d be really rude of me to pass up on free boba!”

“Who said it’d be free!?” Nick questioned, holding you by the hip and guiding you towards the restrooms. Offering his arm again as you stumbled all full of food and treats on the way so that you wouldn’t fall and make a fool of yourself. “I’m already paying for the buffet.”

“I’m just kidding, Nickolas! And I would rather split.”

Nickolas managed to get you to the women's restroom, holding you against the wall and waving a hand at you. Dismissing your attempts to pay with mock offence. “My abuelo taught me to pay and treat a woman right, I’d be going against everything I believe in!”

Despite how you wished to stay and continue arguing, Nick guided you into the bathroom and left. Promising to wait nearby for you so that you wouldn’t feel alone, but you saw through a crack in the door that he had pulled out his wallet and begun lifting some money from his pocket. You shook your head and waddled into the nearest open stall, locking the door to use the facilities.

Once you had finished, you heard your notification sound from your purse as you were washing your hands. It was from Yuji, and as promised, he had had a talk with his brother.

The reminder gave you a bit of a clenching in the jaw, but you were fine. You felt better, you were better. Maybe you’d approach the situation with fresh eyes.

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

Yuji– 10:59am, Saturday: I got him to talk a lil, so be wary. He’s quiet too, what did u say to him?

You– 1:13pm, Saturday: I said some pretty rude things, I’ll apologize to him later.

Yuji– 1:20pm, Saturday: Don’t tell me the both of you have been fighting!! 😡

You– 1:23pm, Saturday: It was just the one fight, I promise. I’ll make it up with him when I’m home.

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

You and Nickolas left the buffet, arms linked as you climbed back onto the motorcycle and made your way to a drive-by boba store. The day felt like a big blur from all the excitement. In between boba and the food you visited little gacha shops and comic stores, geeking out about idols and enjoying some other assorted snacks with each other. A drive that cleared your head and made you forget all about the worry and stress of the last few months.

Feeling more like it was a quick stop rather than a day on the town as you both continued down to this small park. It was clearly a park for small children and their parents, but in the evening, it was free range for anyone. 

The swings creaked from the slightest movement, putting you and Nickolas into a fit of giggles. 

“You got cream on your nose,” He says, reaching over and cleaning the messy cream off your face. Bringing his thumb to his lip and licking it clean, leaning back and washing it down with another sip of his drink. Looking up at the sky and gazing at the little stars that were visible, the rest hidden in the glow of the street lamps. “It’s pretty at night, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” You nod, resting your head against the metal chain and turning your gaze up to the sparkling dots in the sky. The memory of your mother flashed through your mind again, making you smile.

“My mom says that stars are fireflies that got stuck trying to reach the moon, or something like that.”

“Oh? My momma said they’re our family watching over us.”

The both of you hum at the sentimental meanings of the stars, reflecting and enjoying the growing cool of the evening breeze. It gave your arms goosebumps across your skin, making you rub them out of instinct. Your movements of course weren’t avoided from Nick’s eager eye. He placed his cup onto the ground and took off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, patting your back absentmindedly.

“You should’ve told me you were cold,” he muttered, returning to his previous seat on the swing. Letting his heels push him back and forth in the rocky spot. “A small hoodie like yours isn’t gonna keep you warm and toasty, Y/n.”

“Haa, I was fine, Dad.”

“Your papa would say the same thing, no fighting about it.”

You let out a sigh, pulling the jacket over your shoulders and covering your body. The jacket was warm and it smelled nice, like an old cologne some rich business man would wear. Chanel? No, it can’t be that, he doesn’t look the type to use it.

As you pondered the scent, sniffing and nuzzling into its confines, Nickolas redid his bun. Tying up tighter than before so as to not let it blow loosely in the wind and blind you on the way home. His golden gaze moving from the stars to you. Watching you closely as you leaned against the swing’s tether, the jacket draping over you perfectly. It brought a smile to his face seeing you so content, so relaxed in his company.

Down right cute.

“We should head home, yeah?” He said after a while of admiring the area and chatting for another hour or so. Just as the sun went down and the moon was beginning to shine in the sky, you were guided yet again to the bike at the curb after you tossed the empty boba away. Helped up onto the back seat and joined seconds later by your partner.

You reach up, patting a gentle hand on his shoulder and resting your head on it. “Thanks for taking me out, Nickolas. It really helped me.”

There was a silence as the engine came to life once more, probably the last time of the night, before Nick turned to look back at you. His near glowing golden eyes shining with glee, “Not a problem, I’m happy to help any time.”

One final push away from the park and you were back off to campus for the night, and strangely you weren’t all that nervous to see Sukuna again. He had probably left the dormitory already, leaving things clean as they were before and back in his own. Trying to catch up and maybe take space he wanted after the fiery morning the both of you shared.

If he was there, by some wild chance, you’d try and talk to him. For Yuji, of course.

After a twenty or so minute drive, Nickolas parked his bike in the same place it was before. Hoping off the bike and turning to help you off. Letting his teases get the best of him and poking fun at your messy helmet hair, patting it down and rubbing his fingers gently through the strands before linking arms with you again.

Walking the sidewalk to the girl’s dorms, Nick had to hold you up as you had begun feeling tired. That, and you just weren’t used to the amount of attention he was giving you. Making your brain go into a foggy overload and wanting a good night’s rest to process it all.

Nick was forced to take you inside, getting odd whispers from your neighbors as he sheepishly tried to explain the situation only to be teased about it. The scene looked embarrassing enough, but you were indeed just sleepy, and Nickolas was going to go home right after.

“Alright, Y/n,” He says, taking his coat from around your shoulders. “I gotta go now, so go ahead and get some sleep. Try and relax your stomach tomorrow too, it’s stuffed from all the food we had.”

“It’s only ‘cuz you’re a glutton,” You teased, standing up on your own (with the help of the wall) and fitting your key in the slot of the door lock. Looking back at him, you flashed Nickolas a toothy grin. “We should do stuff like that more often, I think you’ve made me a glutton too!”

Nickolas chuckled at this, a pink tint on his cheek as he scratched at his nape. “Oh no, I guess I have to take responsibility for you now? What a shame.”

You both parted ways, giving good nights and best wishes as you entered your dorm and he turned to the hallway. Getting teased by your nosy neighbors along the way as he got to the exit, leaving you alone in your dorm with…

Sukuna?

You had turned once inside to see a big lump of blankets and pillows, that had belonged in your room originally, on the couch. Covering a snoring, messy pink haired mass, a stuffed animal barely poking out from under a large, banded tricep. The cute bunny face and ears distorted into a strange shape under the weight of Sukuna’s arm.

“You’re still here?” You asked his sleeping form, stepping over to the couch and taking a seat next to his stomach. Gazing down at him, reaching to brush your fingers across his scalp, tickling near his nape so much that he stirred in his sleep. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“..I only leave when I feel like it.”

You flinch, seeing Sukuna’s dark eyes begin to open. Peering up at you from underneath his arm, tired and cold. “You were out for a long time.”

“I was with Nickolas,” You start, returning the calm stare, furrowing your brows together before looking around the living area. Taking in the mass amount of things he has strewn about: more plushies that you kept near your bed, some little doodles on paper you saved for later projects, and some blankets mixed with pillows. “I thought I said to keep my place clean.”

“It’s clean, you’re imagining shit.”

The fight from that morning returned to your mind at the snippy comment, making you clench your jaw and rub the bridge of your nose, exhaling to let out the bite back. “Still, what are you doing here? Don’t you feel better?”

“...No.”

Well that was odd.

“Do you need ibuprofen? I have some Advil, I think.”

Sukuna’s head shook, messing his hair up even more. He was looking like a giant cat that just got denied good food or a cuddle with its owner. It was kind of a sweet sight to be witnessing. You let out a strained sigh and lean back against his stomach, hearing his grunt in compliance from underneath your weight.

“Was Yuji tough on you?”

“That lil’ shit should be lucky I even gave him an ear to listen to his moaning.”

“I take it you weren’t too happy then.”

A small silence followed as you both rested on the couch. Somehow, this moment reminded you of when he needed help home. How he was dazed, barely noticing what you were doing for him until he needed a shower. The way he lifted you into his bed for the night after the both of you bickered over where you’d be staying for the night. (While you would never admit it, you did like that night’s rest.)

Sukuna noticed your smile, the way it was so perfectly crooked.

“Why did you steal all my stuffed animals?” You asked, returning your gaze down to his level.

His eyes narrowed momentarily as he decided how to answer the question. Eventually he lifted his arm and pulled the stuffed bunny from his grasp, holding it out and staring at it. Sukuna didn’t utter a word as he messed with the plush stomach of the toy, letting out a soft murmur.

“I missed.. Your smell.”

You were caught off guard, brows rising at his response. Since when did he say things like that?

As you were left to ponder on what to do with the mess, Sukuna dropped the bunny and sat up, lifting the blankets that covered him and pulling you once again into his hold. You let out a small yelp and tried to fight back, but were too tired to really push him off or yell. So, as you were wrapped up in Sukuna’s leg, arm and the comforter, you took a deep breath.

Under the weight of Sukuna’s hold, your body started to register that sleep was imminent and slowly forced you into a dazed state.

“Y/n,” Sukuna muttered as you turned into him, pressing your face into his chest, letting your hands fall between your thighs to keep warmth. You murmured out a grunt while you got comfortable. 

While your eyes had closed, your snores starting to grow, Sukuna was left awake by himself. His arms coming to wrap around you as he had the doll, nuzzling his nose into the scalp of your hair and taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent, the scent he wanted close the whole day that he thought he could sub with a plush toy.

Shameful, needy– these are things he didn’t want to be.

He breath came out in a huff, brushing against the shell of your ear. “I want to work on my math tomorrow.”

“Sure.. jus’ wake up at a decent time.”

As sleep overtook you, you could barely register what was said. The warm embrace of the man you had hated from that morning being the one thing that made you feel most at ease in your sleep. It was strong, firm; made you feel as if you were on cloud nine. 

In mere moments you were asleep, cuddling into the same arms you wanted to be away from that morning. Deep down, you were still irritated with Sukuna. You didn’t want to hear out whatever excuse he wanted to spill, if one at all. But right now, you just wanted rest.

That day was probably the most calming day leading up to the Willow Tree trip.

↞↞↞ ♡ ↠↠↠

a/n: holy shit was this a lonnnnggg time waiting and a longggg time writing!! i'm glad i'm finally getting back into the swing of things with my writing, I really hope you enjoyed reading all 8k of this chapter (longest chapter i've ever written to date!!) Seeing as it's been a while, I think my style has changed a lil so sorry it's a lil odd. anyways, thank you for the long asf wait but i hope you really liked this one! pls feel free to put suggestions in the comments and submissions! i also updated the taglist as best i could!

Chapter Song Theme: – Figure You Out -- VOILA (Lyric Video)

taglist: @mageyboo , @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlands , @sukunastoy , @sukunaspersonalfleshlight , @kawaiipenguin20 , @k-indie , @okkotsufav , @cafeinthemoon93 , @pulchritxde-blog , @bontensbunny , @deepinballs , @kleeboomed , @fiierytearzx , @wo-ming-bai , @instantgalaxysheep , @watyousayin , @z3r0art , @sukunaobsessed , @lik0 , @domainofmarie , @the-moongoddess , @dark-n-dirty-duchess , @agentdedf1sh , @sukunastoy , @lyn-soso , @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 , @heyitstacy , @lost-in-tokyo , @marksassybanana , @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-ch , @misslauravillanueva , @chaoticqueen33 , @dxxny -loves-u , @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci , @opossum0-0 , @gumisgirl , @mommasbigd , @fallenlostarchives , @infinitivesearch, @t4ters, @n4muqr, @huuuhwhaat, @jiordeci, @chaeryred, @purplebee21, @hisheadismountfuji, @voyager1fan, @ichibaba, @brandydel, @berrylovesstuff, @whispersofbeskar, @dontcare1331

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[magdalenacats]

It's a Ocean's 8, it's mainly about Lou, Debbie and Juliana (Lous biological daughter).

It's also a Loubbie Fiction 🧚🏼‍♀️🫐🌌💜

[ricochetmoon]

Chapters: 21/? Fandom: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean, Debbie Ocean/Tammy, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean/Tammy Characters: Debbie Ocean, Tammy (Ocean's), Lou Miller (Ocean's) Additional Tags: Childhood Friends, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Backstory, Internalized Homophobia, Angst, Self-Harm Summary:

Tammy, Debbie, and Lou have lived many lives leading up to the Toussaint heist. Over the years, their lives have intersected in a number of ways. Tammy and Debbie were childhood best friends, but that changed when Tammy mysteriously vanished. Lou has a mysterious past that nobody quite knows.

This story is about missed connections, actual connections, miscommunications, and the secrets families keep.

[blackacre13]

[psychdyke]

“you’re so tight baby” for lou and debbie pleaseeee

i got this same prompt twice, so here it is now! brought to you by me and @inthetardis-asitshouldbe​, aka Syd! 

Debbie x Lou - “You’re so tight, baby”

It’d be a lie to say she has no idea how this happened. It’s pretty obvious, even, if she were to admit that when Lou had insisted on dragging her out of the house to go grocery shopping instead of staying in bed with her, Debbie had very deliberately chosen to wear the tightest dress she could find, the one that was sure to make her ass look really good whenever she bends down to get something out of a low cupboard in faux-helpfulness.

She’d never admit to it, not even when Lou drags her down an aisle and into a changing room, not when she’s being pushed against a wall and then there’s Lou’s body against hers, pinning her effectively. It’s delicious, the warmth of the body pressed against hers and Lou’s breath hot against her ear when she whispers “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

~~ read on AO3 ~~

[dulciscoeur]

It took me some time, but the last chapter of Lapses is finally up. Click here if you want to read the whole fic on AO3. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean Summary: Lost time doesn’t matter now. Trigger warnings: child neglect/abuse, trauma, dissociation. It’s angsty!

Lapses

Chapter 1: Conquest

Lou wakes just past three thirty. January is unapologetically cold, bringing along freezing air that filters through the places of her loft that don’t quite close or aren’t sealed properly. The only illumination comes from city lights outside and the pink Christmas lights on the opposite wall that she forgot to turn off last night, her attention focused on something-- someone else. Frost creeps up the windows behind Debbie’s sleeping form next to her the same way that realization of what they did just hours before creeps up her spine to settle vividly inside her mind. It definitely makes the cut for her top three most precious memories. She smiles, lets warmth sink into her chest when her eyes travel to Debbie’s face.

Debbie looks softened like this, no barriers around her. Lou thinks of lilies and soft summer breeze. Shadows from the snow falling dance across her face, bare shoulders and comforter like military expedition ghosts. Her lashes, dark and curled, rest against the softness of her cheeks, lips slightly parted. Fingertips ache to touch them, itching at the sense-memory, now familiar with how they feel against the pad of her skin. Lou moves as quietly as she can to rest on her side, right hand advances slowly as does the tightening in her heart.

The sound of the ice maker slices the quiet of the night, and she retrieves her hand as if she were a child caught doing something wrong.

Maybe she is.

Falling in love with Debbie came organically, an inevitable fate that she couldn’t nor wanted to fight against. Doing something about it though, that was something different. She was painfully aware of that, looking away whenever she caught herself admiring the way Debbie’s mouth curled when she spoke, making sure her hand didn’t linger on her lower back for too long when guiding her through doors, or straight up leaving the room when her emotions were too much to handle, her lone-wolf personality as an excuse.

Debbie interrupts her thoughts mumbling something in her sleep and snuggling closer to Lou, smooth legs wrapped around her like silky vines. The warmth emanating from her body is well appreciated, and she sighs at the time lost. When Debbie squeezes Lou with her arms, a small smile on her lips barely imperceptible in the dim light, Lou closes her eyes. Lost time doesn’t matter now. She lets the current of her emotions pull her back to sleep.

Chapter 2: War

Lou’s sipping the last of her coffee when Debbie wakes, eyes wide for a moment. Lou watches her from the small kitchen, half expecting Debbie to sigh in relief once she realizes where she is. She knows Debbie got good at sleeping at unfamiliar places, growing up with a dysfunctional family that would take her to jobs if needed. But this is not a hotel room, or the back of a car, or even a friend of her dad’s house. This is Lou’s bed and so Lou’s not really disappointed when, instead, Debbie sits up and smooths her hair, face twisting with concern. Judging by the way she does sigh, definitely not relieved, she’s either still confused or, on the contrary, very aware of where she is and what’s happened.

Lou suspects the latter.

She wasn’t expecting Debbie to have a breakdown once guilt (or regret) settled in, exactly. But she’s cursed with knowledge and some part of her she’d tried really hard to ignore figured she would react like this. Debbie’s predictable that way.

It still takes her by surprise— the tightening that forms a lump in her throat, the prickling of hot tears behind her eyes. She finds a distraction by pouring water into a cup of tea she had prepared for Debbie, instinctively dissolving two teaspoons of sugar in it, painfully aware that she’s done this so many times before under different circumstances that she knows how Debbie takes her tea without having to even think about it. Of course.

Feeling strangely out of place, she moves slowly and deliberately to let Debbie know she’s there. Debbie’s peripheral vision catches the movement and she regards her presence with a stare, whole body going tense. Her face is impassive, but Lou sees right through her.

Quietly, so as not to scare her: “Hey.”

Brown eyes remind her faintly of a scared deer before Debbie looks away, eyeing the items of clothing carelessly discarded the night before scattered on the bed and floor, mentally targeting each, and then standing up to collect and most likely erase (at least) the physical evidence of what happened between them as fast as she can, not even bothering to hide her nakedness.

Deep burgundy underwear in hand, she has the decency of darting her eyes at her when she says, “Lou,” her name on her lips a blend between an embarrassed apology and a low warning. Don’t.

It absolutely guts her, how Debbie acts sometimes. Lou’s used to ignoring it, the way Debbie just pretends her actions don’t have any impact on the people around her, as if the things she does and says don’t affect anyone except her. A whole minute of silence, Debbie in her bra and panties now, and Lou’s tired of pretending.

There’s a coppery taste on the back of her tongue when she speaks.

“We need to talk about this.” She slides the mug intently towards her on the breakfast bar that serves to divide both the kitchen and the bedroom, and them both. An unspoken threat.

Debbie stares at the mug as if it were a Molotov cocktail, then back at her, and Lou senses her trying to decide whether or not to act like she doesn’t know what she means. Scrutinizing her, she holds her gaze steadily, impassively. Another minute of silence (or hours, Lou doesn’t know anymore) where the weight of her words thread through the space between them, making its heavy presence impossible to ignore, humming and buzzing in the air like tension wires.

A sigh at last, defeated, Debbie gives her that face that says she’s irritated by Lou mind-reading her before moving to the end of the bed where her pantsuit is.

Lou can’t find the strength to look away from the paleness of Debbie’s legs starting to disappear as she puts the dark grey fabric on. She finds herself taking mental notes of the newly discovered birthmark on her upper thigh, almost hiding where the silk of her underwear begins; convinced that would be the last time she’ll see it. Africa-shaped, kind of. Faint cinnamon in color. Small, but noticeable if you’re close and interested enough. Which she is, both. And then the pants move upwards, upwards, past it, and Lou suddenly feels like she’s lost something valuable.

Her gaze flicks back to Debbie’s face, where a pantomime of emotions plays out across her features.

Debbie breathes in deeply, smiles a sad smile right into Lou, and says, quiet, like an afterthought, “Okay.”

Chapter 3: Famine

It hurts Debbie, looking at Lou’s hopeful expression and knowing it’s about to turn into something much more hurtful because of her. So she doesn’t, because it’s pitiful and that’s the last emotion she wants her face to show when she takes one last look at Lou and says the words that weight heavy on her chest, struggling to come out and cause inevitable damage. She’s also selfish and knows that look will haunt her later, and God knows for how long, which is the last thing she wants. They’ve known each other for years now, and Debbie sort of curses Lou for making her do this. Lou knows better than to force her to explain her feelings (feelings she’s more than happy to ignore and go back to pretending that nothing changed between them), knows better than to trick her into confessing why this (whatever this is) shouldn’t be happening in the first place.

Debbie manages to get through the awkwardness of getting dressed while pretending that Lou wasn’t blatantly staring, and finds herself moving to sit on the small couch where Lou’s already taking up half the space with her legs spread. She considers sitting on the coffee table to put more distance between them without it being so obvious, but she’s not so certain it will hold her weight and isn’t particularly inclined to find out. At last, she settles for the second best option, which is as far away from Lou at the other end of the couch as she can.

She feels Lou breathing deliberate shallow puffs of air in and out waiting for Debbie to look at her, the burn of those stubbornly expectant blue eyes that surely already predicted what she’ll say but probably want to, knowing Lou, search what truly hides in Debbie’s eyes when their gazes lock as she finally speaks, looking to find any hint of emotions that’d contradict her words and give her away. So Debbie keeps her face lowered, glares intently at anything that isn’t Lou, partly because she can’t bear exposing herself like that, but mostly because she’s never been one to make things harder than necessary. A pragmatist, if she’s ever seen one.

Still.

Her mind runs with thousands of useless excuses she could use to get out of the situation. Her eyes flicker to her phone on the bed, hoping for something to come through instead, a call about an emergency that requires immediate attention.

No such luck.

Reluctantly, she decides that Lou deserves better than her stalling. She deserves better than her, period. As ready as she’ll ever be and not wanting to prolong the tension any longer, she opens her mouth, only to be interrupted by Lou.

“At least have the decency of looking at me when you say it,” comes dryly, measured voice through clenched teeth.

Oh. So she really is tired of letting her off the hook. Fine.

Debbie sternly instructs her face to stay impassive, tilts her head and finds Lou watching her almost defiantly. Defiant is better than hopeful, she supposes. She’s not sure why that doesn’t make her feel any better. If anything, the pang in her chest feels even more painful than before.

“This can’t happen again.” She says simply and honestly, and it’s about as cold as she was afraid it would be.

“I thought you’d say that,” Lou says automatically with an irritably knowing look on her face, but the usual fondness in her voice is nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a disappointed but unsurprised tone.

Debbie doesn’t remember moving closer, but somehow, her leg is almost pressed against Lou’s, and she’s acutely aware of her own body betraying her, embracing the warmth that seeps through her skin with a sigh she thinks for a second she had managed to suppress, but if Lou tensing next to her is anything to go by, she hadn’t. Lou notices because of course she does, she’s fluent in Debbie.

Debbie almost rolls her eyes. There’s an odd stirring and restlessness in her limbs as if she were physically rejecting this whole situation.

She is used to being the one in control. She is used to well thought out plans that she ploys carefully in advance so that everything happens as it should, her mind calculating every option and possible outcome in every situation because being a few steps ahead makes her feel safe. She’s used to knowing what to say and do, which is why her mood further darkens as helplessness takes over her.

She’s never meant for any of this to happen because yes, they flirt, their bodies are drawn to each other magnetically and the air is filled with undeniable chemistry buzzing and sparkling between them even in the most innocent exchanges, but before last night, Debbie could count on Lou to efficiently make a witty remark when the atmosphere got too heavy and lighten the tension so that Debbie could breathe again.

It’s not that she feels like she’s drowning when Lou invades personal space or says something that’s charged with a little too much double entendre, enough to make her chest heave unpleasantly, which happens more often than she’d like. It’s just that the air catches in her throat when there’s not enough physical distance between them and her mind feels foggy at the innuendos and the blood thrumming incessantly in her ears makes it impossible for her to concentrate on whatever task she’s taking care of that needs to be done properly lest she makes out of character errors— which leads to her feeling like she’s losing touch with who she is, which then leads to her needing something to ground herself. That something usually being Lou reading her body language and taking a step back instinctively, giving her space, or Lou willing her eyes to erase the unbearable adoration (raw enough to suffocate Debbie sometimes) that shows there when Debbie catches her staring without meaning to, or Lou changing the subject and guiding the conversation into (safe) work-related territory when her actual feelings for Debbie lurk behind a teasing joke. All things that Debbie greatly appreciates because she relies on them being part of the equation, part of the routine.

That is, until now.

“I just can’t afford to lose you, Lou, when I eventually fuck up,” Debbie catches herself saying, only the slightest hint of a waver in her voice.

Lou seems to chew on that for a minute, but apparently decides it’s not good enough for her. Debbie sighs impatiently, not sure what Lou really expects.

“I’ll hurt y--”

“Oh, don’t fucking patronize me!” Lou bites out wryly, offended that Debbie would still try to take the easy way out. “Don’t make this about me. You don’t wanna face your feelings, fine, but don’t pretend this is about you worrying about me,” her voice is brittle and crisp.

Lou’s only inches away from her face now, a fact that Debbie only noticed because all her instincts are telling her to move back as if Lou’s hard expression were scalding her, earnest as ever, eyes roving across her face trying to read her.

Debbie can feel herself pale despite her best efforts to keep her composure, words caught in her throat. “I--”

She sees the exact moment Lou realizes she’s pushing the right buttons, holding her gaze and refusing to let go. Her mind registers the shift with panic, caught like a prey with no escape. Lou’s intent on further needling at her, Debbie knows she wants to make sure she feels as off-balance as she’s feeling.

“I’m more than capable of keeping things professional, Debbie. In fact, let’s keep it at that from now on. That means you don’t get to send mixed signals,” Lou snaps heatedly, standing up abruptly and whirling to walk towards the bed to grab Debbie’s phone and put it inside her purse forcefully.

Debbie stands up awkwardly, looking at Lou inching closer to her, tries to clear the dismay from her face when Lou shoves the purse to her chest, dismissing her.

“You don’t get to flirt with me the way you do and then push me away whenever you feel like me flirting back is too much.” Lou hisses, careful to keep her voice low, threateningly forcing her to step back towards the exit without ever touching her, even when Debbie trips on her feet a little. 

“You don’t get to put your hands on me and then act like I’m the one who’s pushing it too far when I lean into your touch,” Lou pushes on, almost nose to nose, blindly opening the door beside her, glare glued to her own. 

“You don’t get to act jealous and possessive when a woman looks at me, because I see you, Debbie, and I’m not your fucking toy. You don’t get to play with my feelings anymore,” Lou finishes, radiantly angry; but before she shuts the door in her face, Debbie manages to catch the hurt that passes across her blazing eyes.

Chapter 4: Death

Debbie’s eight the first time it happens. It was supposed to be exciting, the first winter storm of the year, but that day something more than just snow falls around her and eight-year-old Debbie dies, along with most of her innocence and all of her immaturity.

And at that moment, dying felt like this: Being held from behind by big muscular arms that are too strong for her fragile body. The cold barrel of a gun like a kiss of death pressed against her temple, the foul smell of alcohol hot in contrast at her cheek when the man speaks,

“I won’t hurt her,” he says, voice thick. You already are, Debbie wants to say, “if you just give my boss his money back.”

The playroom is freezing despite the fact that the heater is working. The temperature was not supposed to be a problem because Debbie took it all into consideration when she made the list of things she needed to keep herself warm: her fluffiest stuffed toys, piled up pillows and blankets on the carpet and a mug of hot cocoa. Now the improvised fort sits abandoned and the beverage must be as cold as she is in just her pajamas.

His father looks at her like he’d just realized she was there, and Debbie tries her best not to cry because he doesn’t like it when she does but the tears prickle her eyes all the same.

Oh, but then.

The hesitance she reads in his face digs a hole deep and wide in her chest that webs out and expands, expands, expands with every passing second until there’s no more room and suddenly something clicks and everything shatters, tears spilling down her face that somehow have nothing to do with the stranger holding her and everything to do with the one that’s looking at her like he’s considering her worth with mild resentment, like she just cost him his plan. She understands, because she’s little but she’s always been too smart for her own good.

Mr. Ocean opens his mouth to speak, but before he does, the man’s cell phone rings and he interrupts him to answer, the hand holding the gun still aimed at Debbie’s head.

She stands in place, dead but not quite gone. Listening, but not really.

She somewhat feels like she’s escaped her body to watch the scene develop from above, like the camera that hangs on the corner of that very room— unmoving, quiet, like an all-seeing eye rhythmically blinking red.

Her gaze darts down to stare at her own chest quizzically like it’s a stranger’s, contracting with sobs that she didn’t know were breaking through her. It looks like it should hurt but it doesn’t. She tries to logic her way out of it, to will her body to stop whatever it’s doing because it’s scaring her, but there’s no response. She feels empty, like static on a radio signal that chirps with every little breath she takes but that communicates nothing but buzzing hollowness, interference noise that makes no sense to her.

The idea of continuing to exist physically trapped, limited and controlled this way suddenly overwhelms her.

She says, “I can’t feel,” but it comes from the voice inside her head instead of her own, the words caught in her throat like fragments of bone.

She forces herself, ruthlessly, to swallow in much the same way she does when they have Borscht for dinner. Her mouth is sandpaper dry, but she thinks it would be silly of her to ask for water.

Instead, as if she were in class, she tries really hard to pay attention to the man’s chatter that continues to reach her ears like her head is sunken underwater, distorted. With difficulty, because the lurch of terror that is making her sick is still there, she follows the sound of the voice that seems to be coming from another room until the syllables start to make sense. There are curse words, lots of them, then something about his boss’s rule, not harming any kids and coming back. For her father, she supposes. It should make her feel bad. She feels guilty that it doesn’t.

When the man lets her go, she barely registers the burn on her knees as they hit the carpet.

After some time, when she looks up, there’s no one else in the room with her. After some more time, when the sun is starting to set, Danny finds her, curled up on the bed of pillows and talking to herself. Lately, he’s been ignoring her because he thinks he’s a grown-up, and Debbie only notices his presence when he asks if she’s seen his special deck of cards.

“No,” she says. Something in the way she’s said it must’ve caught his attention. He stares at her. She stares back. “What?”

“What’s wrong?” Danny asks in that worried voice that’s reserved only for her.

She tells him what happened mechanically because they never told her she should keep it a secret and she likes that he is finally talking to her again like he used to. She decides she won’t cry because she’s afraid he’ll think she’s not strong and she wants to prove that she is. Danny looks at her like she’s weird, as if trying to figure out what’s wrong with her. Before Debbie can get defensive because she thinks he doesn’t believe her, he rolls his eyes, embarrassed about what he’s about to do, then hugs her for the first time in months and sits with her to teach her about Schödinger’s cat.

He says it might make her feel better.

It... doesn’t.

She understands the concept, kind of. Mostly. But it still upsets her that Danny is defending their father to some extent and acting like “dad isn’t capable of doing such a thing.”

“Yeah, to you,” she thinks.

“You weren’t there to see it but I was!” she wants to say.

Instead, because she’d hate to make her brother sad:

“Thanks. I feel much better.” Her index and middle finger are crossed behind her back. “Now leave, loser. Unless you wanna have a sleepover with me and Ms. Sprinkles.”

She looks pointedly at the light pink teddy bear that’s been sitting next to them smiling perpetually.

He leaves and she doesn’t sleep, that night and many others, wondering what would’ve happened if rules about harming children didn’t exist and her father hadn’t been interrupted.

Debbie hears what people don’t say. Always has: the “I’m not” behind every dishonest “I’m sorry” she’s ever received, the “I’m doing this to hurt you” that’s covered up by “this is for your own good”, the “but” after every “I love you” before the words are even spoken.

“but you can’t give me what I want and this is not enough.”

“but there’s something wrong with the way you handle emotions that I can’t quite figure out and I rather leave.”

“but what is it with you and your family?”

“but you won’t open up and let me in.”

To read unspoken words and non-verbal cues is freeing as it is useful. She did make a living out of it after all, collecting paychecks thanks to her ability. Or more like stealing them. But for all her skills, she’s pretty bad at reading angry Lou, because her anger has never been directed at her and she doesn’t know what to make of that because it’s not the type of anger she’s used to being surrounded by growing up.

No shouting, no threats, no punishment. There’s only cold and she’s good at reading people but she’s not good at reading... nothingness.

She’s lost track of how many times she’s knocked on the door that Lou just closed, fighting not to let her body sink to the floor. She waits for the clamor, for the door to open again and the sharp accusations to cut deep into her but they never come. She waits and waits and waits but she’s not sure what answer she’s expecting, if there will be one at all, because she’s saying something but she doesn’t know if she’s apologizing or cursing or making sense at all because already she’s starting to experience the sounds coming out of her mouth in the surreal, distorted way she recognizes and loathes.  

Lou’s silence is so loud she can hear it over her own heartbeat thrumming erratically in her chest and echoing in her ears.

Her heart weighs heavy in her chest when she accepts silence is an answer in itself like she used to accept her mom telling her TV static is expected during a storm. The last thing she remembers before willing her feet to leave is telling Lou “I understand”, and braces herself to listen to white noise buzzing and humming, glitched and broken, for however long it takes for the signal to come back.

Lou doesn’t speak to her for four days. Her absence in the aftermath is abrupt, it leaves a mute echo everywhere and only hollowness to fill her outstretched hands with, wrapping her up in a cemetery quiet similar to the one she sees in the movies after a grenade has gone off.

Coincidentally, she feels the passing of time acutely during those days, like a sharp blade that is slowly sinking into her, making it bleed pain inside - pain that seeps over, under, around.

She’s thought about calling her, about texting her. She’s considered knocking on her door, going to the places she knows she frequents, asking about her to a friend in common.

Endless possibilities, but all of them with the same result: breaking her trust by disrespecting her boundaries. And as a result, watching the ledge she is standing on begin to crumble, only to shatter and widen the space between them like a rift in the landscape.

Lou has never asked anything of her before. Debbie owes her this, respecting that she wants to be left alone.

It is more than she knows what to do with, but she tries.

It’s hard.

Debbie thinks that she should be used to knowing what dying inside feels like by now. She became capable of not being paralyzed by it because she’d been forced to adapt to survive as a little girl. Good times. The thing is, after she’d left the family house, she never felt the need to fight to regain control of herself again, and now that is happening to her more often than she considers fair and she feels out of practice.

She tries to remember how to block out her emotions enough to function properly but not so much that she disconnects from her body, because that’s even worse.

She can’t remember and she loses herself, over and over again. Each time is different, each time feels the same.

Five days after that day, the day when everything went wrong, she gets a text from her. Lou tells her she should talk with Tammy, then doesn’t reply to her when she tries to make conversation. Debbie takes the hint with a heavy heart, grateful that at least she is speaking to her, and eventually meets Tammy at a café after a long panic attack bent over behind a drugstore that has seen better days.

Tammy counts four different pill boxes at the bottom of Debbie’s purse when she opens it to put the paper with all the necessary information of the target into her bag. She is smart enough not to mention it but she does ask,

“Is that everything you need?”

“Yes,” she answers too quickly. Tammy looks at her, achingly sweet. Debbie’s right leg bounces impatiently.

“Debbie...” her voice holds an extra layer of caution like the one people use on wounded animals.

Even knowing she means well, she resents her for it.

“I’m fine,” she says, flat.

She’s not. Tammy must notice because she touches her arm very gently before saying goodbye.

Debbie finishes her tea watching the snowflakes fall outside the café window, one after the other. If she could muster any sort of fondness for it she would, but she just rolls her eyes because she has come to hate winter. No need for another reminder of how she feels inside.

There is a party being held at this hotel, Tammy had told her. Lots of rich people. Lots of stupid rich people. Lots of stupid rich people drinking. Easy. Tammy also telling her Lou would be there had been more than enough for Debbie to put extra effort into the way she looked. It was presumptuous and she hated herself a little bit for it but it made sense earlier.

Now, not so much. Dressing up is no fun when the only person she is hoping will notice is nowhere to be seen.

She mostly succeeds in not letting her eyes roam the room looking for her and do her part of the job -  like she said, easy, really: run into businessman, swap key cards and put his in the plant pot near the entrance for Lou to pick it up and do the rest - but she can’t help the rapid fluttering of her heartbeat at even the suggestion of blonde hair.

It’s done in a matter of seconds and she sits at the waiting lounge by the reception area instead of joining the party, eyes glued to the Monstera Deliciosa.

She has to tear her gaze away when she feels fingers poking her shoulder. For a moment, her traitorous mind thinks it could be Lou and a rush of adrenaline courses through her but when she turns, it is a man that is looking at her expectantly. She raises her eyebrows in question.

“Hi, I’m Joe. Can I buy you a drink?” and then says something about seeing her there all alone but she’s distracted enough to miss most of his words.

She never gets the chance to see Lou that night-- by the time Debbie turns around to look back at the plant pot she is already gone.

Excusing herself absentmindedly to a confused Joe, she laments a quiet “maybe next time” on her way out, though she is not talking to or about him.

In the parking lot, she looks up at the barely shining stars hidden behind clouds that announce storms, self-conscious in only her aubergine dress. She tells herself she is shaking from the cold breeze that is curling sweetly around her, but she can’t justify the apprehension that’s radiating from her heart and pushing against the slashes of her ribcage.

So she looks up for a long time, lets the night engulf her until it feels like she’s suddenly in space. Darkness, no oxygen, no sound except for the rush of blood in her ears.

The silence expands.

There’s a sob trapped in her throat when she finally grabs the car keys from her purse, eager to get home and take off a dress that feels tighter by the minute, clinging to her in a suffocating way.

Debbie ponders what to do with the money on her account now that she’s not spending half of it going out to eat with Lou or purchasing top-shelf vodka from the fancy liquor store across the street to keep in her apartment— no use in doing that if the person she used to buy it for doesn’t stop by anymore.

The last bottle she bought for Lou has been sitting there half empty, untouched, for a week now. She feels like it’s mocking her by just existing but stops that train of thought before it evolves into something else and drags her away.

She grabs the bottle of wine next to it instead, her laptop, sits on the couch. She checks online shops to see if there’s anything worth buying instead of stealing.

Six open tabs later, she can’t really think of anything she wants besides... well.

She researches properties in Italy just to imagine what it would be like to live someplace else, far away.

It’s two weeks later that she finally meets Lou, really meets, for the first time in what felt like forever.

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other at all lately. They have, but definitely not like this. Most of the conversations about how to approach their jobs have been over the phone and whenever they did saw each other it was painfully impersonal. They talked briefly about going separate ways after what happened but agreed that it made no sense to either of them. They’re just that good when they work together, seemed stupid to waste their potential.

Although in moments like these, Debbie regrets their decision.

Lou’s gaze focuses on anything over Debbie’s shoulder but never on her when she meets her in the casino bar. She sits next to her, close enough to touch if she wanted to (was allowed to), which is already nerve-racking enough, but then her hand covers Debbie’s, discreetly putting there the earpiece that’ll whisper numbers in her ear when she goes to play blackjack in a minute, and bittersweet ache fills her lungs. She feels like she might burst into tears when Lou breaks contact, already missing it.

Lou seems unaffected, a fake-warm smile on her face while she goes over her part of the plan monitoring the cameras. Debbie nods at her and tries to breathe through the pounding of a heart that seems too big for her chest so it looks they’re having a normal conversation to anyone who might be watching.

She tries to ignore Lou’s hand resting too close to hers, but can’t help it when her pinky twitches involuntarily to brush against Lou’s.

Debbie feels a hot rush of shame, embarrassment coloring her cheeks pink when Lou pulls her hand away almost immediately, giving her an accusatory look.

“Lou,” she says. Sorry, she means.

Both of them stay in silence, looking at each other for seconds that feel like forever.

“I’ll see you in an hour,” is all Lou says, and is gone before Debbie can respond.

Debbie stands to do what she came here to do on autopilot.

It becomes a routine. Days of silence that become a week, sometimes more, and then a text or a phone call or, if luck is on her side, she gets to see her.

“You look like shit,” Lou says one night after pulling off a job successfully, her smile the closest thing to experiencing what heaven is like.

They’re at the rooftop of the second hotel they’ve checked into with fake names in as many days. Lou is usually gone right after she finishes her part, so Debbie is pleasantly surprised she is still there with her, looking at her in a way she’s not quite familiar with. Almost tender, like the look the Lou that usually bleeds into her dreams has, but not quite. There’s an elusiveness and vulnerability to it that serves as a reminder of what she’s done to her, and suddenly all the exhaustion and sleep deprivation and guilt and shame she’s been burying hit. She is so, so tired she thinks any second her legs might give away. She sort of wishes they do, just so she would have an excuse to look away from Lou’s eyes.

“I also feel like shit,” she says, and hopes it didn’t sound as pitiful as she thinks.

Two things happen:

Something about the way Lou’s hands shake makes Debbie think she is about to reach out to her, a thought that is only reinforced by the way the air, biting and crisp just seconds ago, seems to shift and turn into a current of nervous anticipation, humming between them like a live wire.

A group of friends chooses right that moment to open the door that leads to where they are, startling them-- and just like that, the moment is gone.

In some ways, Debbie feels as though she’s been waiting her whole life for it to end.

“I should go,” Lou half-whispers, but to Debbie’s complete surprise, she doesn’t move.

The wind had ruffled through her blond hair and her eyes seem to be sparkling and it’s only then that Debbie realizes just how much she’s missedher. Warmth spools through her organs, for the first time in ages. She doesn’t want Lou to go. She tells her that.

Lou wavers.

Thoughts whirling, spiraling, Debbie blurts out, “Let’s go to my place. Let’s just talk.”

Lou considers this, frowns for a moment as she contemplates an answer.

“Please,” Debbie adds softly, and the low timbre of her voice is enough to make Lou nod.

“Okay,” Lou breathes, and it’s filled with so much-- something familiar, something electrifying and pulsating and right.

The tiny quirk to her lips, the molten eyes that shine as if the sun had set in their depths ignite a flicker of hope inside Debbie. She breathes in, feels a pressure against her ribs, scribbles of emotions weaving a thread, like a spiderweb, around her heart, stitching up the broken parts together and mending the cracks.

“Okay.” She repeats, voice only trembling a little.

Everything is quiet around them except for the sound of heels piercing the silence and echoing on the city streets as they make their way to her apartment.

Determined to keep her nervousness at bay, Debbie focuses her attention on her steps, studying the ground moving underneath her feet, the yellowy blobs of light thrown downward by street lamps, the shadows that contrast with the neon pink that dances with a tidal motion as they pass by a tattoo parlour. The lights wavers and flares in yesterday’s rain reflection, and it’s not long until she feels dizzy and has to will her gaze to focus on something else.

Lou, looking straight ahead, all business, doesn’t seem to notice the way her eyes roam over her body, appreciating the black turtleneck that insinuates soft curves, the red faux-fur jacket thrown on top that ends at her hips where toned legs clad in leather pants start and end in graphite ankle boots to tie everything together.

Just when she’s about to complain about how long it’s taking them to get to her place, Lou stops abruptly, and Debbie almost bumps into her.

“Like what you see?,” she jokes, amused, and Debbie would’ve acted like she wasn’t blatantly staring if she weren’t too tired to pretend she wasn’t doing just that.

And this Lou who is trying to hide in the shadows the playful smile at the curve of her mouth, whose gaze feels like it’s reaching something remote inside her, reminds her so much of the Lou that would throw an extra blanket on her in the middle of the night or bring her something to eat when she would forget how to be a person that she wants to swallow the faint curl of her lips with her own and just soak in the warmth that is working through her body and pouring over and into every part of her. It’s hard to stop herself from reaching out, but she does, too afraid of breaking this image that seems to soften her around the edges, diffusing the coldness that had settled into a pang in her chest ever since she stopped talking to her.

“I’ve missed you,” is all she murmurs. Is all she can say.

This time, not only Lou’s eyes don’t skitter away from hers at the raw honesty, but there’s no bitterness to her voice when she eventually says,

“Yeah,” she agrees, not scornful, neither her tone nor her look. Just understanding in that way of hers that still surprises Debbie to this day.

Lou has written her code into hers with such naturality that it’s hard not to believe they’re not intrinsically linked, she is so planted into her that she is able to sense everything she’s feeling as if she were experiencing the emotions herself. There is a part of her that is afraid she will never be able to fit as seamlessly into Lou’s life here as she had been able to fit into hers. But standing in front of her apartment with the world seemingly slowed to a standstill in a city looks like it’s been here forever, silent and untouched and unwavering, she makes a decision.

“Let’s get inside,” Debbie says after a beat. Lou nods.

Her grip is tight on the keys when she moves to open the door. If she listens closely, she can pick up the steady sound of Lou’s breathing behind her, even over the thunderous beat of her own heart, and sense the tenseness of her posture mirroring hers. She feels faintly sick with anticipation as she steps inside.

By march the winter is already starting to die, but the cold in the flat is still present-- delicate, calm, the fading baseline at the end of a song. She doesn’t have to ask Lou to take a seat because Lou is already moving to her spot on the couch, the one Debbie avoided even looking at just hours ago and it’s almost like nothing ever happened between them.

Almost, anyway.

Lou is looking up at her like she’s waiting for something and, oh. Debbie had forgotten how her irises look under the soft glow of the fish tank, fire burning blue.

The scent of her perfume is comforting as she closes the distance between to sit next to her, hands pressed between her knees. Lou doesn’t comment on her closeness but clears her throat impatiently. Debbie knows she’s invited her for a reason other than just sitting in silence.

She wants to say Don’t make me say everything you already know but she’s tired of disappointing the people she cares about.

Fuck it.

“I need a drink, first,” she says, mostly to herself. Lou agrees with the softest smile, nodding.

It is essential to her psyche to distract herself so as not to have an anxiety attack, so she takes her time walking over to the kitchen, putting some ice cubes into two glasses and pouring more than enough whiskey into them. When she comes back, she finds Lou in the same place she’s left her, only mildly surprised she’s still there. Lou stares back with interest through her inspection, head slightly tilted to one side.

She offers one glass to her as she swipes a droplet of condensation off the side of her own, sitting next to her once again. They sip in silence for a second, both cognizant of how they filled in the void last time they were in a similar situation.

It isn’t the liquor, but she finds her throat cleared to speak, emboldened by it, committed.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, meeting her eyes, sharp and full of emotion. It’s a relief to look at her and see something familiar.

“I know,” Lou says.

It’s not enough, though. She needs to get this right.

“No, listen,” she continues, conscious of their proximity. “You were right,” she acknowledges. “I was-- I am terrified of my feelings.”

It’s comforting how transparent she sounds when she says it. Lou chews her lip, light dancing to life in the once guarded ice of her eyes, making her feel twelve and daring.

A sort of sound of amusement, and then: “Feelings, huh? I think we’re going too fast.”

Lou’s mouth, shaped like laughter, makes it hard for Debbie to concentrate, but with a proud tilt of her chin she manages to say,

“Feelings, yeah. I just... It’s not an excuse, but I don’t have much experience with those.”

“Deb—” Lou starts, with a soft look accompanied by an even softer smile.

“And I’m tired of that,” she goes on quietly, frown heavy on her face.

She thinks of how right the confession feels, and how true it is. For someone who considers herself strong and fearless, all her life she had instinctively leapt back when it came to facing her emotions, used to disdain emotions because to her, they meant weakness-- weakness she didn’t need or want. She has sought physical company as frequently as she wanted, but never committed to anything past that because she’s experienced first hand what loving someone does to you if things were to go wrong.

But things don’t have to be that way, she understands that now.

“And if I’m being completely honest, I really didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s not your decision to make, is it?” she asks, voice imbued with the knowledge of one who already knows the answer.

The way she is looking at her is something out of a movie, in that way of hers that even if the best artist were to paint her they wouldn’t get the emotions quite right. So she looks and looks and looks. She doesn’t answer but she lets herself enjoy the longing, the unbreakable circling, the pressure of every single one of her molecules being pulled by Lou’s gravity. She doesn’t answer, not with words, but she lets herself fall into everything that is Lou, her lips against hers a near-worshipful thing, and for once, she’s not afraid of how Lou makes her want for things she never thought she would.

All her guilt collapses until it’s nothing but a flat surface where she can rebuild again, something better, something with Lou.

That is the last thought that reigns in her mind as she pulls her closer, fingers tracing the nape of her neck, slipping through silky hair like she’s holding onto a lifeline. And then she’s too preoccupied with the delirious torment of Lou’s body pressing against her-- skin warm, mouth pliant, greedy-- to think about anything else.

[widomauked]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean Characters: Lou Miller (Ocean's), Debbie Ocean, Tammy (Ocean's), Amita (Ocean's), Daphne Kluger, Rose Weil, Constance (Ocean's), Nine Ball (Ocean's), Claude Becker Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, 5+1, loosely follows the movie, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Breaking Up & Making Up, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Arguing, Angry Kissing, Hickeys, Making Out, what are we conversations, Developing Relationship, theres a lot of dialogue, Vaguely Linear Narrative, Vignettes, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Proposal Series: Part 2 of camp nano april 2020 Summary:

five times lou and debbie kissed in secret and the one time everybody knew

[blackacre13]

Debbie lap dance pt 2

Part One Linked above! Here's part two!

“Go ahead,” Debbie panted. “You can touch me. I know you want to.”

“God, yes,” Lou nodded, her nails digging into Debbie’s hips as she pushed her down further against her thigh, encouraging her to grind against her more, Debbie’s breathing starting to get short.

“Keep the money,” Debbie whispered suddenly, her tongue darting out to lick Lou’s earlobe as the blonde cursed. “I want you inside me. Come around back?”

“Debbie,” Lou chuckled, shaking her head, only to be interrupted by Debbie’s hand ghosting along the crotch of her pants as Debbie let out a gasp.

“Are you…packing?” Debbie whispered, licking her lips as her eyes grew darker.

“One way to find out.”

Lou didn’t know what the hell she was doing or how she’d ended up at this club.

She couldn’t lie. It was a club she had frequented a few times before, but lurking around strip joints on a Friday night wasn’t her typical scene. Although the “ladies drink for free” was a typical perk. Hadn’t any of these club owners heard about lesbians?

She’d worked a smooth week. Wallet full of cash. Jobs all running like clockwork. But that meant she was bored. She didn’t need to scrape together random cons this weekend to make ends meet. Her time was her own. And that often led her into dipping into her vices: liquor, cigarettes…sex.

There were the usual suspects she practically had on call and of course, the instant regret of a go-to ex or three that could be fun for the night but only end badly in the morning, but she didn’t want to tread down that road.

So here she was. A place where she knew she could tease herself. Practically edge herself. Let herself be flirted with and danced upon, but she could only look. Not touch. And there was a limit. A bill. And an expectation that she would go home satisfied in a way, but most definitely alone.

So she couldn’t believe that she was standing in the alleyway behind the club with her boot against the wall and a cigarette between her lips, eyes closed as deep, brown ones seemed to bore into her soul.

Debbie, Debbie, Debbie.

Who was she? And why could she read Lou so well, even in an instant?

They didn’t need words or hints or instructions. Their bodies were practically calling out to each other. A siren song.

Lou had been nervous. She shouldn’t have been this drawn to a dancer, but she’d caught sight of her across the bar and knew she had to be the one. And when Debbie asked her what she wanted, Lou had to stop herself from saying “for you to take my last name” and settle for a lap dance instead.

It was intoxicating. Lou thought she should be mortified. Doing this. Paying for this. Letting Debbie tease her professionally. But there was something on Debbie’s face that told Lou she wasn’t alone in this. And when Debbie’s hips started rolling and her position switched to very, truly riding Lou’s thigh and moaning like they were holed away in a bedroom just the two of them and not in a corner of a club, Lou knew it wasn’t just her. And she hoped against all hope that Debbie would want something real. No strings or singles attached.

Lou’s fingers had found their place on Debbie’s hips as if they’d settled there dozens of times before, Debbie whimpering as the tips of her fingers ghosted against hot skin.

Debbie whispering “keep the money” was like a dream. She had to be sure she hadn’t made it up and when Debbie’s hand had found the strap Lou had decided to wear this evening—for some BDE and extra confidence—Lou knew she needed to Fuck this woman. Right then. Right now.

“Coming?” A voice asked suddenly, a metal door near Lou opening and swinging shut heavily before Debbie emerged, a wicked grin on her face, wrapping a trench coat around her barely there outfit and swinging her hair out of her face.

“I was hoping that would be your job tonight, actually,” Lou smirked.