#my fault for going on a walk without checking the weather

[wormpool]

got rained on really hard for the second time this summer. you think I would learn

[kurooh]

❆ BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE !

KINKMAS 2024 — holiday hatefucking + sukuna ryōmen

❆ desc. a record breaking blizzard blasts through your city, causing thousands of power outages & frozen pipes. what’re you & your sworn enemy of a roommate to do when it seems to last all night?

❆ warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hatefucking, some degradation, pussy slaps, orgasm control, arguing, resolving misunderstandings, facesitting, one bed trope. | 6.0k words

“just like everything else, this is all your fault!”

“really, princess? last i checked, i can’t control fucking climate change.”

sukuna’s always been testing your patience, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with daily arguments and snarky comments. you let out a peeved sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “of course you’d refer to weather as climate change. if i were you, i’d at least mask my stupidity better.”

“tch,” he manages, wordlessly rolling his eyes as he lamely tries to think of a comeback. anger boils in his stomach and burns through his veins, hot as magma. “you’re calling me stupid when you’re the one who fell into the toilet a few days ago, at three in the morning.”

“yes, and that happened because my inconsiderate asshole of a roommate didn’t put the lid down!”

“you deserved it,” sukuna scoffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand as he turns on his heel. “go take your toilet ass to bed. g’night.”

you’re fuming with anger, but there’s no point in saying anything now that he’s walking away with no intention to listen to you. sukuna’s footsteps disappear into the darkness of his room, and he slams the door behind him.

how insufferable.

living with sukuna ryōmen meant you could never catch a break. between his occasional apartment-trashing parties and stormy demeanor, there was zero chance to turn things around. the feuds had started not long after you first met, and surprisingly, the two of you had actually hit it off pretty well.

your first meeting took place on a street corner downtown, right in the middle of the college district. after a horrible date, you had found yourself waiting on the corner for your delayed uber when sukuna pulled up on his motorcycle, extending his hand. at the time, you didn’t question his kindness, wrapping your arms around him and talking his ear off about being a student. he dropped you off at your apartment and offered to help you sign a new lease, after you had confessed how hard it was living in a dorm with so many fees.

initially, living with sukuna went well. the sexual tension was at an all-time high, but the two of you were always too busy (or afraid?) to make a move on it, so you remained friends. it was when his friends came over for a party during an important study night for you that things changed for the worse. they had been lounging on the couch, drunk and talking way too loudly about you.

remembering the things they said about you still makes you grind your teeth as you stomp down the hallway, pausing at the darkened screen of the thermostat.

“sukuna!” you yell, reading the numbers. “the temperature’s dropping further!”

“. . it’s a power outage,” he calls back after a moment, his voice muffled by the door. “what do you expect?”

it’s pointless but it makes you feel better, so you raise your middle finger to his door before walking off to your room. your door swings open, and you slide off your slippers, preparing to get into bed and wait it out, but you’re met with the not so soft material of the bare mattress.

oh, that’s right.

not long ago, the tv had been glowing with endless reports of the incoming blizzard. it was supposed to hit the city full force in a few hours. expecting a power outage, you’d thrown all of your sheets and blankets into the wash so you’d sleep well during the night in a warm, clean bed. it was as if the blizzard had a personal score to settle—it barreled through the city and prepared to stay, leaving hundreds of people without power or functioning pipes due to the freeze.

now that your apartment has no electricity at all, your sheets and blankets are left soaking in the washing machine downstairs. instead of breaking down and screaming out of frustration, you manage to pull it together with a few deep breaths before marching over to sukuna’s room. it’s entirely sickening that you even have to ask him for something like this, but you put the thought out of your mind and raise your closed fist to the door.

sukuna’s ears twitch when he hears the thumping at his door, and he gets out of his bed to go investigate. he rubs the tiredness away from his eyes and opens the door to see you standing in front of him.

“what now? did you come to tell me it’s snowing outside?”

“no, i didn’t,” you grit out, wringing your hands together, “remember i put my all my bedding in to be washed?”

“remember when i told you not to?”

“yes, thank you!” you reply brightly, “they’re currently soaking in the washing machine and i have nowhere to sleep without getting a bad case of hypothermia.”

“hm. you could always try the couch and some paper towels from the kitchen,” he suggests dryly, pulling the door shut. stubbornly, you push your foot in the way to stop him. “woman,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “if you think i won’t slam this door on your foot, you are sorely mistaken.”

it’s a risk you’ll have to take; you don’t budge an inch, looking up at him furiously. “just for tonight, i’m asking you to let me sleep in your bed.”

“i thought you hated me,” he hisses, “i could feel your little middle finger through the door.”

“i do, but if you had this problem, i’d actually help you, because i’m a good person!”

“keep telling yourself that,” sukuna rolls his eyes dramatically, letting his jaw go slack to mock your stupidity, “i would never have this kind of problem, because i’m not as dumb as you are.”

the wooden edge of the door starts to press into your slipper and a rush of panic strikes you square in the chest. your jaw tightens as hesitate, frustrated with the idea you have to convince him with. finally, your lips part, and the words tumble out sloppily, piling up into a debt you’ll be obligated to pay. “fine, fine . . . sometime i can make it up to you. i’ll even clean up the apartment after a party without any lip.”

sukuna crosses his arms, and the veins ripple beneath the skin with the movement. “oh, i hadn’t thought of that. i would love to see you clean the place without complaining as you usually do. although . . you did say anything.”

“yes, that’s right.”

where is he going with this?

his crimson eyes gleam with some kind of wolfish delight as he mulls over everything he could possibly impose on you. “perhaps i’ll save it and torment you while i think of something.”

“so, can i share the bed?” you urge, slipper tapping on the carpet impatiently.

sukuna offers a hand, and you can feel his black nails dig into your skin when you accept it. he moves out of the doorway at last, sticking out his foot and successfully making you stumble. you nearly faceplant into the carpet but manage to save yourself, biting your tongue even though all you want to do is shout at him.

sukuna simply gets into bed and tugs the blankets over his body, but he looks over at you in confusion when he notices you stacking a wall of pillows between your bodies.

“god, i am not that vile. i showered earlier and i washed my sheets yesterday,” he grouses, eyebrows pulling downwards in annoyance.

“i’m sure you did,” you assuage him dismissively, “i just wanna make sure we don’t touch once in the time that we sleep in this bed.”

sukuna fiddles with his silver lip piercings, tongue prodding into the backings impatiently while his fingers twist at the small spikes. “damn. are you done yet? goodnight.”

“goodnight.” you mutter, dropping down hard against the bed with your back facing his.

sukuna is what every daredevil wishes they could be. he is unique, with different piercings and dark, sharply lined tattoos that compliment his features naturally. all of his piercings had been acquired from bets or dares—he’d gotten his eyebrow done after his brother yuji beat him in a fight (he let him win because he wanted the piercing), his snake bites because he’d been dared (he did it himself with a hot needle and bent paperclips to keep the holes open since it was 1 am and all the jewelry stores were closed), and his ears when he won an eating contest (it was on yuji’s dime, so he got the most expensive jewelry too).

as you drift off, feeling warmer beneath all the blankets, you feel the tension leaving your body. for tonight, you’ll let go of your anger towards him and enjoy the pleasant moment and his rare generosity.

your eyes blearily open to the soft rays of morning sunlight shining through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the dust in their thin columns over the bed. you let out a yawn, snuggling further into the soft pillows you’d set up the night before—but then your heart jumps into your throat and heat sears its away across your face when you register the warm body nestled against yours.

the position is so natural that it’s as if you slept like this for hours; it’s abhorrent, seeing sukuna sleeping like a baby, his breaths nothing more than quiet huffs into your neck. as the vestiges of sleep start to fade away, you’re all too aware of the sculpted muscle pressing firmly against your body. at some point, sukuna decided to take off his shirt, as evidenced by his bare chest against you.

outside, the sky looks to be a little cloudy, and the branches of bare trees are weighed down with layers of snow. looks like the blizzard came to a stop sometime in the middle of the night.

sukuna’s hand squeezes your side lightly, and he lets out a soft groan, tugging you closer. “ew, what the hell!?” you jerk back immediately, heart pounding wildly in your chest like a caged bird. an uncomfortable heat settles over you as the reality of the situation fully sinks in. he’s still asleep, fumbling around to grip onto you. your breath catches in your throat with each of his confused movements, and the warmth of his strong body leaves you dazed for a moment before you consider how wrong this feels. he firmly grabs ahold of your ass to pull you in, and you gasp, slapping his arm as hard as you can.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

he grunts out a curse, letting go of you and blinking awake slowly. his once relaxed face quickly shifts into one of annoyance, and he fixes you with a displeased glare.

“what’s your problem now, woman?”

“you were cuddling me, man.”

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard you wonder if they’ll ever return to their original place.

“to wake me up over something that trivial is ridiculous. it was a cold night and likely happened by accident.”

“no, sukuna!” you protest, hips swiveling as you push yourself into a sitting position. he hisses, jaw clenching firmly; the words die in your throat when you realize the problem—rather, his problem.

“wipe that fucking look off your face,” he snaps automatically. “ever heard of morning wood?”

“excuse me? you were all over—”

immediately, sukuna claps a hand over your mouth, his palm feeling hot against the lower half of your face. your words are muffled, but he knows you’re swearing and protesting at him—the way your eyebrows angrily move tells him enough.

eventually, you go still, opting to lick his skin. he recoils in disgust, wiping his sticky palm on your shirt to get it off. “you’re nasty, woman.”

“that’s not what you were thinking when you were wrapped around me like a koala five minutes ago.”

he doesn’t even know what to say. anger and something more bubbles up fast, scorching through his body before it finally exits through his mouth. “shut the fuck up. you started it last night, pulling me in and shit.”

“me?” you burst out incredulously, eyebrows furrowing as you lean forward, your stare burning holes the size of bullets into his face. “you’re the one who’s embarrassed for having enjoyed it, if your face is any indicator. you know how much i hate you, i’d never—”

you’re too close. beneath the blankets and sheets, your lower body thrashes while you speak, hips knocking into his a few times. each touch has his cock growing harder, throbbing painfully beneath his boxers and pajama pants.

“god, if you’d just stop touching me!” he barks, cheeks ultra hot now. sukuna’s lips pull into a scowl and he glares at you, annoyed with your sudden cluelessness.

“what is your problem now?!”

“it’s you,” he shouts, throwing off the blanket and startling you. “it’s always been you. since we moved in, since the blizzard, since i even agreed to sharing a bed with you! you’re always—” sukuna’s voice splinters and he swallows, pushing forward, leaving mere inches between your faces. “fuck. you’re always driving me insane.”

“back off,” you hiss, voice trembling. a crackling tension hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and growing anticipation.

“make me.”

“you’re really asking for it, aren’t you, sukuna?”

his lips curl into a wolfish smile and his eyes gleam with a similar intensity, anger blending with something more carnal. “maybe you can show me how much you love to hate me, princess.”

the demeaning nickname falls from his lips easily, as it always does, and you’re determined to make him choke on it.

“don’t you ever shut up?” your nose crinkles at the puffs of breath that brush over your lips. one of sukuna’s eyebrows quirks upward challengingly—your voice no longer has the bite it usually does.

“i only would if you let me use my mouth another way.”

your heart hammers in your chest, and anger still rushes through every inch of your body, but it’s much hotter now, leaving your skin sweltering beneath your clothes. giving in to sukuna ryōmen is a mistake—he’s your insufferable roommate who regularly makes your fists clench with anger, but he’s also the object of your deepest desires.

you’re too far in to back away now.

“go ahead,” you pause to let out a breath. “right now, i’m all yours.”

when you finally lean in to close the distance, your lips collide in a kiss that’s equal parts animosity and desire. it isn’t gentle, and it isn’t soft—it’s raw and furious, so overwhelming he loses himself and pulls you in, black nails digging crescents into your skin. in a manner that’s just as forceful, your hand finds its way to the nape of his neck and yanks him in, causing your teeth to click together sharply. the hungry kiss deepens, and his tongue slips into your mouth, stroking against your own. the deep-seated anger and tension that had been piling on top of each other is finally dissolving into something far worse—something so intoxicating you begin to wonder how you were living without it.

sukuna pulls back breathlessly, unable to look anywhere but your face. a small, glossy string of saliva connects your lips together, a sign of an encouragement to test the waters and continue. surely a heated makeout session would lead you to a crossroads, where you’d be left wondering how much further this could go, with only each other to figure it out.

sukuna coughs out a rueful laugh. “it’s funny, isn’t it?"

“what is it?” you demand, lips tingly from the kiss.

“i find it amusing this took so long to happen. of course, it was bound to eventually.”

“well, it’s only because you can’t keep it in your pants, sukuna.”

“and you can’t keep yours on,” he retorts, hooking his fingers into the flimsy waistband of your pajama pants before sliding them off your legs. now, only a thin layer of fabric hides the place he wants to see most. effectively silenced and now matching his black underwear, you take him in, eyes sweeping over his features. beneath his black tattoos, his skin flushes red, all the way up to the tips of his ears; his mouth is slick and shiny with a mixture of your spit and his own, and the silver spikes beneath his lip gleam temptingly.

“what’s wrong?” he questions expectantly, fingers curling around your chin with surprising force and tugging you forward. “cat got your tongue?”

“maybe i’m just waiting for the right moment to pounce,” you push forward stubbornly, forcing him onto his back so you can straddle him. you silence anything he would’ve said with another kiss, and sukuna’s hands travel from your hips to your ass. he gifts it with a squeeze and a pleasured groan slips out against your lips before he slides his fingers into your underwear.

the rough pads of his fingertips stroke over the skin of your ass while you suck on his tongue impatiently, hips occasionally rolling against his own. to add to each movement of your hips, you tease him a little more, using your teeth to lightly tug at the jewelry of his lip piercings. each moment of friction is something between solace and torture for his cock—it’s adequate, but it’s not enough and he’s dying for more.

you smile against his lips, sneaking a hand between your bodies to play with his cock. it’s an experimental gesture to test the waters, see how he reacts; the moment your fingers come into contact with his thick bulge, he groans, leaning up. one squeeze has him rushing to sit up so quickly his forehead knocks into yours. ordinarily, sukuna would’ve made a scathing comment, but he doesn’t have much to say when he grabs ahold of your wrist and pushes it into his boxers.

it’s a decision that further stokes the long burning fire that’s been ablaze beneath all the arguments and unbearable conversations; it’s something that has it roaring into an all consuming inferno.

“fuck,” sukuna chokes out, nipples hard against your loose shirt while he rests his hands on your ass. “you’re making me fucking crazy.”

you ignore him, rolling your eyes dismissively at his heavy panting and clenching abs. instead, you focus on lavishing his neck with attention in the form of wet kisses along the skin. he shudders a little as your tongue darts out to wet his skin before he eventually decides he’s had enough and cages you in his arms. you’re startled when you’re caught in something akin to an alligator death roll, opening your eyes to see that you’re pinned down beneath him.

“then do something about it,” you suggest, legs spreading without him having to ask.

sukuna groans deeply, his head spinning at the sight of you being this vulnerable in front of him. “take off that shirt now.”

the demand strikes you hard, his voice reverberating to your core. while you busy yourself with doing as he asked, sukuna kicks the pillows and blankets off the bed before positioning himself on his stomach. now, he’s eye level with your thinly covered pussy. he hasn’t seen it yet, but it’s sure to be everything he’s dreamed of. saliva pools on his tongue while impatience propels him forward, and he skates his fingers along your thighs, taking in the softness of your skin.

it’s not enough to simply touch you.

no, sukuna needs to smell you, taste you, feel you, devour you.

he intends to do so.

“what’re you—?” your voice trembles as you look downwards, nipples hardening at the sensual sight. sukuna’s nose is pressed to your thigh, and he’s breathing in with every inch upwards. you had expected something faster, more filthy, but sukuna’s behaving like he’s absolutely been dying for this.

the dull spikes of his lip piercings press into your plush skin and over a small area of your panties when he finally makes it to your hip. wordlessly, he slips his hands under your ass and raises you up while he takes a bit of your panties between his teeth. slowly, they slide down your legs.

a sweltering heat surges up your neck and to your face while another pools in your tummy like magma beneath a volcano. you writhe on the bed eagerly, too excited to have your panties finally out of the way. those fervent crimson eyes stare at your pussy and watch it flutter around nothing before flickering up to yours.

“don’t blame me if you can’t walk later.”

your face drops in annoyance. “why do you always have to ruin good moments?”

“a warning is hardly enough to ruin this.”

“but—”

a harsh, smarting slap to your pussy has you cutting yourself off with a pitched cry of delight that bounces off the walls and into sukuna’s long term memory. he raises an eyebrow, watching you closely as your legs settle and you return to your spread position.

“you liked it, didn’t you?”

“liked? it hurt.”

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, eyeing your dripping, clenching cunt. “i’ll just do it again.”

you roll your eyes, bucking toward him impatiently. you want him inside you, and he’s hung up on moving slow to torture you.

“whatever. just fuck me alr—”

“ah ah,” he admonishes you with a slap that’s much rougher and directed to your clit. against the mattress, his cock swells with arousal. “i intend to fuck you my way. if you have a problem with that, i’d love to see you fight to be on top.”

tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. desperation and unbridled need easily shifts to frustration and anger that has you spitting, “i hate you.”

“don’t be like that. you’re soaking wet,” he points out with a self assured smirk. sukuna spreads your thighs impossibly wider and leans in, letting the tip of his nose graze your clit. the featherlight touch makes your skin prickle all over.

to be honest, you didn’t expect the events of last night to lead you here in the morning. in fact, you assumed you’d wake up on your respective sides of the bed and argue a little about snoring before departing. since most of your interactions usually go that route, this entire situation is shocking—but a small part of you is extremely thankful it’s finally happening.

there had been days so tense you’d considered sex as a solution, but never brought it up.

“s-sukuna!” you moan helplessly, grabbing at the sheets and twisting them beneath your fingers. with his teeth, he playfully nibbles at your folds, savoring the sudden catch of breath in your throat and whimpery cries. your quivering legs settle over his shoulders, and he appreciates the change, utilizing the new angle to pull you closer.

that sharp tongue of his can certainly do more than hurl creative insults all day long—it’s killer, and entirely hypnotic as he sloppily mouths at your cunt. wet slurps and lewd smacks of his lips have you shuddering, eyes rolling back into your skull.

“‘kuna,” you whine, long and drawn out, “don’t stop, d-don’t fuckin’ stop.”

he pushes his thumb into your clit and looks up, lips shiny with your bittersweet slick. “what did you just call me?”

“sukuna,” you lie nervously, trembling beneath his touch and craving more.

“now, girl,” he scoffs, and the new nickname doesn’t sound as demeaning as the usuals. “that isn’t what you said. go ahead and say it again for me.”

you look him in the eyes, feeling small beneath his heavy gaze. “‘kuna. that’s what i said.”

sukuna offers a gratified hum before returning to your sloppy pussy. a glob of spit sparkles in the morning light as it slips down your hole, making more of a mess. “keep calling me that, i like it.”

white hot euphoria zips through sukuna’s nerves as he dines on the wet dessert your pussy is. it’s the best breakfast he could’ve ever had—sweet as sugar and made even better with your decadent moans spurring him on. oh, the way you shakily card your hands through his hair and let your nails scratch over his scalp . . each electrifying touch shoots straight to his cock, and he discreetly ruts into the matress.

his tongue dips between your folds and he groans against you, eyes rolling back when you squeeze down on him like a vice. the once cold room is hot, your bodies feeling feverish from your own shared heat—if you were outside, you’d have melted the snow into puddles.

sukuna has always had an abnormally long tongue. he ponders your reaction to him pushing deeper, but the fluttering of your walls leaves no room for second thoughts.

“sukuna, holy fuck,” you sob, a tear or two running down the bridge of your nose. “y-your tongue, it’s so big—w-wait, wait a second.”

it’s painful to lose the fullness of his tongue, but you pull back and cup his face in your hands, looking down at him with a desperate look he won’t be able to refuse. “can . . can i ride your face, ‘kuna?”

you’re so cute with that little pout and those glossy eyes begging for more. sukuna smiles meanly, the lower half of his face dripping with your essence while his teeth gleam sharply.

“you liked my tongue that much, huh?” you nod, looking a little dazed as he gets onto his back. he helps you swing a leg over him, but before you sit down, his hand lands hard against your ass. “shit, you’re such a dirty girl. jus’ begging for me to get you off, aren’t cha? show me how much you fucking want it.”

you whimper, gasping out some kind of affirmative answer. sukuna tenses his tongue and sticks it upwards, then tugs you down impatiently.

“shit!” you squeal, startled by how fucking long his tongue is. it fills you up almost entirely, probably an inch and a half short of your cervix. whiny ooh’s and ah’s fall from your lips as you unsteadily rut your hips into his face, grinding your clit hard into his nose. “sukuna, ‘m close, you’re gonna make me cum . . ”

“you’re gonna make yourself cum, girl. ‘s all you.”

his voice is muffled, but you can somewhat hear him over the lewd squelches and noisy moans that fill the room. despite it all, he’s got stars in his eyes as he watches you ride his tongue to oblivion—stringy drool slips past your lips and your tits bounce deliciously while your face crumbles in euphoria.

“oh my god,” you weep, voice breaking, “‘m gonna cum on your fuckin’ tongue—”

one blissful tremor is the precursor to so many more. your jaw becomes slack and tears run down your face as you finally reach your high.

“‘kuna, ‘m cumming!”

the stifling tightness in your tummy finally snaps and leaves you a convulsing mess on his tongue, shaking so hard your teeth inevitably begin to chatter. sukuna smacks his lips, almost entirely satisfied—but then he roughly lifts you and sits you down on his chest.

you’ve got hearts in your eyes and you’re obviously drunk on him, ready for more.

“clean it up,” he demands, tilting his head to the side. without question, you lean forward and kiss him, tasting yourself with a moan. a groan rumbles deep in his chest when you pull back and start to sloppily lick at his cheek, tongue running over his tattoos. “good girl.”

“sukuna, i need—i want . . ” you flounder breathlessly, unsure of how to ask him.

he slaps your ass, scarlet eyes darkening lustfully. sukuna clicks his tongue, egging you on. “beg for it.”

“beg?” you ask incredulously, grinding your cunt into his abs. “i hate begging.”

“then you don’t get what you want, simple as that.”

“but—”

“no buts, girl.”

“f-fine,” you cede, afraid of being left unsatisfied, “please, i need your cock inside me . . i need you to fuck me hard.”

“there she is,” sukuna coos, flipping you over and reversing your positions so he’s above you, “my nasty slut. you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

you nod weakly, which has him flipping you onto your stomach and huskily growling into your ear. “fucking say it, princess.”

“all yours,” you slur your words, limply letting him maneuver your body.

“on your knees,” he pauses to gather your wrists together behind your back, pulling you toward him. “that’s right.”

with his free hand, sukuna tugs his boxers down so quickly the fabric audibly tears, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

the room is a disaster. blankets and sheets hang off the foot of his bed while pillows litter the carpeted floor in every direction. not to mention the discarded pajamas and underwear scattered around as well, evidence of the storm between yourself and your roommate.

your cunt is throbbing by the time he guides the tip of his spit slicked cock between your folds. it’s bulbous and fucking huge as it presses into you, slow and deep. sukuna tosses his head back with a loud groan when his cock bottoms out, pulsing against your cervix.

“loosen up, girl,” he grunts, your sticky walls bearing down hard around his cock, “can’t fucking move.”

“w-wait,” you whimper, nearly falling forward. your jaw hangs open loosely as you try to fathom the stretch and fullness his cock imposes. “‘kuna, you’re too big, i can’t—”

“please, this sloppy pussy was made for me,” he huffs, drawing his hips back and leaving merely the tip of his cock inside of you. “jus’ take it. you can and you will.”

he says nothing else before shoving forward, plunging his cock as deep as it can go inside you. it thickly pushes past rings of muscle and stretches you open, filling your ears with wet squelches. he sets a ruthless rhythm into place, focusing on taking your ability to walk tomorrow. tears pathetically pour down your cheeks and fall from your jaw to the damp sheets below, and you no longer can control all the noise you’re making. babbled cries of yes! and inaudible moans fall from your bitten lips, all of it spurring sukuna on.

“hah, shit,” he rasps, unable to tear his eyes away from where you’re connected—his cock slides in and out of your creamy pussy rapidly, the smacks of skin against skin sounding like an applause. “b-been waiting for this, goddamn.”

“i thought you hated me,” you wail desperately, feeling each thrust of his cock in your lungs. whenever the tip roughly kisses your cervix, your cunt squeezes around him while you cry out something incomprehensible.

sukuna pushes his tongue into his cheek, digging his black nails into your wrists tightly. “you were the one who hated me the whole time.”

“i-i didn’t!” you protest weakly, struggling to recall what you were just about to say. “it was you who started it—with your friends!”

“what’d we do?” he groans, pushing his free hand through his hair to remove the strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“uh, you—right there!—you were . . ”

“did i already fuck you dumb, girl?” sukuna snarks, his palm coming down hard across your ass. “can’t even remember, hm? perhaps if you weren’t so busy slutting yourself out for me you’d have something to fuckin’ say.”

his words are bitter, but they manage to help you recall your memory. “you were talking shit about me, a-and you threw that party the night before a big test i had—shit, ‘m gonna cum!”

“ah ah,” he snaps, voice edged with something domineering and dangerous. you’re pulled back by your numb wrists, and sukuna leans forward to speak directly into your ear: “you don’t get to cum until i fuckin’ tell you to. now, girl—finish that story for me.”

a miserable sob tears past your lips, “sukuna, i-i can’t, ‘m gonna cum right now—”

your wrists are released, making you fall forward into the mattress. your head can’t stop spinning and you’re in no state to catch yourself, so instead you accept the new position mutely.

the palm of sukuna’s hand presses into the crown of your head and his nails dig into your scalp while his warm breath fans against the shell of your ear. “don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses arbitrarily. “i said to finish the story.”

“i-i heard them saying horrible things about me!” you babble gaspingly, “i think you went along with it . . i didn’t hear you telling them to stop.”

“so that’s why you hated me?”

“yes! god, but i didn’t really—i wanted to talk about it s-sometime, but not right now!”

he chuckles ruefully, letting your head go. “now, girl. if i’d known something so stupid was the reason you’ve supposedly hated me, i would’ve taken care of it much sooner.”

you cry into the sheets, feeling the telltale throb of his thick cock deep inside you. “please—please lemme cum!” the words slur together, making you sound truly cock drunk.

“alright, princess,” sukuna hisses, teeth sinking into his lower lip, “go ‘head and let it allll out. cum all over this fucking cock, lemme feel it.”

stars flicker across your vision, and you cum with a broken cry that tears from your throat almost painfully. your gummy walls grip him like a vice, sucking the cum out of his cock. with a drawn out groan, he finally cums, collapsing on top of you and panting into your shoulder.

as you come down together, high pitched beeps fill the house. the microwave and oven come back to life, and the lights in every room snap on as the power is restored at last.

“goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you into a sideways spooning position without letting his cock slip out of you.

“tired?” you ask hoarsely, tired eyes running over his sweaty, flushed face. “clearly, that took a lot out of you.”

“me?” sukuna barks in offense. “look at you, you’re the one covered in tears.”

you pull out of his arms, whimpering breathily as his cock slides out of your pulsing cunt. the base of it is covered in creamy rings while the rest of his length shines wetly. sukuna spreads your trembling thighs and groans loudly at the sight—frothy globs of cum spill from your weeping hole, which clenches around nothing hungrily.

truthfully, sukuna would never be able to rid himself of the memory of your cunt swallowing his cock eagerly. the slip and slide paired with the immense heat had nearly made him cum on the spot . .

sukuna’s chest heaves with each breath as he lolls his head to the side to observe you. “for the record, i’m no longer friends with those vile people. cut it off right after they came into my home and started talking shit about you.”

embarrassment crashes over you like a wave. “wait, you never told me about that!”

“you stopped talking to me and decided to be argumentative all the goddamn time.”

you roll your eyes, looking off the bed awkwardly. a few pillows are scattered on your side, and you reach over to pick them up, tossing them to the foot of the bed.

“anyway, how did my pillow wall get destroyed?”

“don’t get upset.”

“what did you do?” you question him accusingly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“after you fell asleep, i moved two of them.”

“i used six different pillows!”

he dismisses you with a wave of his hand, smirking at the frustrated shock that takes over your features. “i thought it’d help me figure out what your problem was in the morning. obviously, it did.”

you snatch a pillow and hit him right in the face with it, savoring the moment of justice like high quality chocolate. “there. that’s what you get.”

sukuna rips the pillow from your hands and hurls it across the room, turning over to you with a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“you were saying?”

[silkensago]

cloudy with a chance of you

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ megumi fushiguro x fem reader. 1.8k words — mutual pining. post-rain tenderness. friends to lovers. ⭑ you show up at his door soaked, shivering, and clutching convenience store ramen like a life raft—because of course you forgot your umbrella. but maybe that’s just the kind of girl you are. and maybe he’s just the kind of boy who always keeps a towel ready anyway.

Megumi really thought you would’ve noticed by now.

Okay, maybe that’s on him.

Maybe it’s his fault for being subtle. But in his defense, he didn’t think it would fly completely over your head. You’re not that dense. At least, not normally.

He couldn't say the same for Itadori or Nobara, but you? Out of all his classmates and even including Gojo-sensei, unfortunately—it was your intelligence and quick wit he trusted the most.

You were the one who could identify the origins of a curse from fragments of folklore and figure out a strategy faster than anyone else. He always admired that about you. The way your mind worked. The way you were both fast and precise—like a blade drawn only halfway, never wasted.

But apparently when he lends you his scarf since you always forget to pack one, or when he orders your favorite drink during a late mission debrief, or when he instinctively shields you with his cursed energy even when you’re more than capable of defending yourself—

You give him that annoyingly cute, soft smile, pat his arm, and say, “You’re such a good friend, Gumi.”

He grits his teeth.

It was already a confusing enough process to even realize he had feelings for you. Months of awkward silences and overthinking on his end and giving himself tiny mental slaps in the face every time his heart fluttered when you said his name.

But this? This was worse.

Because now he knows you like him too.

The problem is—you don’t think he likes you.

Apparently, offering you his last piece of mochi after a 14-hour exorcism shift isn’t “obvious enough.” Neither is remembering that you hate raw fish and silently swapping meals with you during team dinners. He even brought you that ugly little pufferfish keychain last week—the one you joked about wanting from a claw machine back in March and said that it looked like him. 

You’d stared at it like he handed you a bomb. Then smiled. Said thanks. And once again that dreaded word: friend.

He snorts under his breath. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love being your friend. He does. But he wants to be that—and more. 

He wondered if he’d spent so long waiting that the chance had already slipped past without him noticing.

You’re sitting beside him now on the train, going over the mission briefing that was sent out this morning, finger trailing along the paper like you're trying to trace the arc of a cursed spirit’s movement. His eyes are on you, of course. 

He knows it’s dumb. Staring won’t help.

It finally tips over during a rainy walk back from the convenience store.

[18:02] You:

heading to the store!! do u want anything?

[18:02] Gumi Bear 🐟:

No check the weather

[18:03] You:

bruh ur so boring

[18:03] Gumi Bear 🐟:

“Bruh” it’s going to rain

Don’t come crying to me if your dumb self gets soaked

[18:03] You:

i’m not gonna get soaked :(

also rude. i’m not dumb.

[18:04] Gumi Bear 🐟:

Debatable

[18:04] You:

:////

[18:17] You:

ok i may be a little teeny bit soaked

BUT i got the good melon bread for us

[18:17] You:

also can you open the door

i forgot your code again LOL

[18:18] Gumi Bear 🐟:

Coming

Don’t drip on my floor

[18:18] You:

ok mom

The door swings open just as the sky really lets loose.

You’re half-soaked and giggling, wind whipping your hoodie strings across your face as you try to shield the ramen and melon bread in your arms from the rain like they’re priceless artifacts.

Megumi stares at you from the doorway, hair damp and sticking up a little at the ends, wearing a soft white tee that clings faintly to his collarbones. He smells warm—like he just stepped out of the shower—and good, like cedar soap and something clean and familiar you can’t place your finger on. He always smells like that. It’s distracting.

“You idiot,” he says, yanking at your sleeve and stepping aside so you can stumble in, your socks already squelching uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

You huff, brushing water off your sleeves. “Because someone said it was going to rain, not it is raining!”

Megumi snorts, softly shutting the door behind you. “You could’ve just gone back to get one.”

“I was already soggy by then,” you mutter, clutching the food tighter. “So there’s no point.”

Then, like fate wants to rub it in, you trip a little on the entryway rug and nearly topple over, screeching like a wet cat as you flail to protect the instant noodles.

That’s what does it.

He actually laughs. Really laughs. It’s soft and breathy and sounds like it came out by accident.

And you, still dripping, still cold, can’t stop looking at him.

“What?” Megumi says, still half-smiling, as he flicks a raindrop off your nose like it personally offended him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You swallow. Shrug.

“You laughed.”

“So?”

“I like it.” I like you.

That’s all you say. No teasing this time. Just that, dropped quietly into the space between you like a penny into a wishing well.

He doesn’t answer. Just reaches forward, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, and tugs you the rest of the way in.

And then, softer, almost under his breath, “Go change. You know where my clothes are, right?”

You nod, heart thumping, already headed to the drawer with the oversized black shirt that smells like him.

The ramen sits forgotten on the counter. The silence stretches long, warm, quiet. And this time, you don’t mind it at all.

When you reach his dorm, you’re still damp and flushed and a little breathless from running. Your socks squish in your shoes. His hair is sticking up funny, and yours is plastered to your cheeks. You don’t say anything else when he tosses you a towel and turns a blind eye when you steal the hoodie he sleeps in.

It’s only when you're both settled, when your ramen sits forgotten on the counter and the flickering warmth of his desk lamp paints everything soft amber, that it all feels too much and not enough at once.

The quiet between you feels different now. Lighter, like a breath finally exhaled after holding it for too long. The small dorm room, with its cramped shelves and posters peeling slightly at the edges, feels like the safest place in the world.

He pulls out a worn board game from his shelf, that one you always joked you could beat him at if you tried hard enough. Tonight, though, he lets you win every round without complaint, smirking with quiet amusement.

“You’re terrible at this,” he says, shaking his head. “But somehow, you always win.”

He pokes your cheek.

Not hard, just enough to make you blink. 

“Stop that,” he says, voice low and blunt—but the tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes gives him away.

You blink up at him, startled. “Stop what?”

“That.” He tilts his head, hand still midair like he might poke you again. “You always chew your cheek when you’re nervous.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” he says easily, and then adds, “You did it before the dorm ramen cook-off last month, remember? When you thought Kugisaki was going to dump hot sauce in your pot as a prank.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, then pause. “That doesn’t count!”

Megumi snorts. “Never before missions, though. You’re always weirdly calm before those.”

“I’m not calm,” you mutter, cheeks warm. “I just hide it better.”

His fingers brush yours for a second, quick, barely-there contact, like he’s checking you’re still grounded.

“You don’t have to hide it with me,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you’re chewing your cheek again.

He pokes it a second time.

“Quit it.”

The silence returns, but this time it’s comfortable. Drowsy, even. Your hands find each other, fingers curling together without thought. Megumi squeezes yours and clears his throat, the sound oddly loud in the quiet room.

“You always fall asleep first.” There’s a teasing edge in his voice.

“'Cause I’m smarter,” you retort, and he chuckles softly.

As you settle under the blanket, the space between you narrows. His shoulder brushes yours, sending a quiet thrill through your spine. He’s so warm.

Your eyelids grow heavy, but just before sleep claims you, you feel his fingers tighten around yours.

When you wake, the room is darker, but he’s awake, watching you with those steady eyes that seem to see everything, know more than they let on. That know you.

“You’re really here,” he says, voice softer than you expected. There’s a delicious rasp to it that you’ve only heard in your dreams.

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

He doesn’t say anything right away.

Just brushes his thumb over your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand. The silence stretches, but not in a bad way. It's soft. Full. Like the space between heartbeats.

His gaze lingers on you, like he’s still not sure you’re real.

You smile, barely. “Stop staring.”

“Can’t,” he murmurs.

You let out a quiet breath. Shift a little closer. Feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours. His arm finds its way around you, steady and careful, and you let your head rest just under his chin.

The rain outside has slowed to a whisper.

And in the stillness, with the air smelling faintly of his shampoo and your matcha he must’ve woken up early to make—somehow escaping your vice-like bear hug to do it—the quiet between you finally settles. Whatever’s been hanging between the two of you for months, like morning dew on spring grass, it’s been there all along. You just hadn’t noticed it catching the light.

You used to go out of your way to look pretty whenever he was around—careful hair, subtle makeup, a little more effort in the way you dressed—before you really got to know each other. Like you were trying to impress someone you weren’t sure would even notice, which he definitely did, but not because of all that. You were a magnet for people because of who you were.

And not that he didn’t think you looked radiant then. But now, after all these months, watching you snuggled up close beside him with your hair tangled in a bedhead mess and a little drool at the corner of your mouth, his breath catches. 

You’ve never looked more beautiful.

This is the boy who’s held you crying with your makeup smudged, the one who knows the exact face you make when you get a little too adventurous ordering food at a new restaurant as he switches his plate for yours. The one who holds all those small, imperfect moments close, without judgment, because to him, they’re part of you.

This is real.

And you’re not going anywhere.

[choccorin]

lovers quarrel

tags. hurt / comfort, sakura haruka x gn!reader

you've been ignoring sakura because of the argument you both had two days ago. he missed out on your date, again. this is the third time this happened in your relationship of 5 months, sure, it wasn't a big deal but for you it is.

the two of you are busy students, he's busy at furin and you're busy with your school works. you can rarely hangout these days due to it being exam season, both of your schedules were packed.

you were so excited that day, you waited at the cafe you both planned to meet at but after two hours, he still didn't show up. you tried calling him, no answer, you tried contacting his friends, also no response. you went home after waiting for three hours, you felt embarrassed because the staff kept checking up on you, so you just left.

you understand that he has things to take care of back at furin but can't he make some time for you, even just a day? you're both still new to relationships, in fact, this is your and his first relationship. you start doubting yourself if getting into one was a good idea, you love him — you're sure of that. and he loves you too, but can the both of you maintain a relationship with little to no experience?

these questions cloud your mind while you're walking back to your apartment, you halt when you see him outside, standing and looking down, he's drenched in the rain. what is he doing here, you ask yourself. don't tell me he's walked here, in this weather?!

“sakura .. ” you call out to him

he lifts his head and looks at you, his eyes are glimmering with hope. he looks tired, the dark circles forming under his eyes say so. are you the reason for them?

you hesitantly walk towards him, “why did you walk here while it's raining? idiot.” you mumble that last word, looking away from his gaze.

“ah, s-sorry.. i was in a hurry to talk to you.. ” his voice is trembling — he sounds like he's about to burst into tears.

you sigh, “ get in first. ”, you unlock your door, letting him in.

“i'll bring a towel, wait here. ”

“(y/n), can we please talk? .. please.” he's pleading you, you've never heard him like this before.

you stop walking, only glancing at him from behind since you're still upset with him.

“fine, talk.” your voice sounds cold and sakura doesn't like that.

“listen. i .. ”, he breathes in, “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to bail on you, it was just that a lot of things happened like a gang was threatening to hurt the town an-”

“just forget it, what's done is done.”

“but i-”

“there's no point in apologizing, sakura!” you wince, that came out harsher than you expected.

the silence in the room felt like a heavy weight crushing you, almost suffocating. both of you were just standing there — waiting for the other person to speak up, but there was nothing. only the sound of the rain .. and sniffles.

he's crying.

you turn around to face him, he's looking down but you can tell he's crying his heart out. his shoulders and hands were trembling, you felt guilty yelling at him.

“haruka, i'm sorry! i was just upset and-” you scramble your words, trying to explain your side to make him stop crying but he cuts you off.

“no. you're right, there's point in apologizing. it's my fault for missing another date and i .. i know i mess up a lot but just please, please don't leave me.” he holds your hands, tears streaming down his face, “i can't go on without you, you've made me the happiest guy in the world in just a few months and-”

you pull him into you, hugging him as tightly and gently as you can, “i'm not leaving you, you idiot. why would you think that.. ”, your voice is shaking, you were crying now too.

he hugs you back, “please don't let me go .. ” sakura mumbles against your neck, hugging you tighter — afraid that you'll let him go.

you kiss his forehead, holding him tighter against you — not caring about his drenched clothes, “i won't hakura, i promise. ”.

both of you stay like this for a couple of minutes, melting in each others hold. but your mind snaps out of it when you feel your clothes getting wet, you wipe your tears away. telling him that he needs to change or else he'll catch a cold, you full him into your bathroom, ignoring his protests, and leave him there to get new clothes, a t-shirt and short that the left at your place just in case.

you tell him that once he gets changed, both of you will talk properly and fix this, even if you two have little to no experience in relationships.

n. this is so bad but i needed to get something off my mind so here's this.

t. @kyoghurts, hi again, i hope u don't mind me posting another sakura fic >_<

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Warmth

This one rests its shoulder against the brick wall. It couldn't bring itself to check why the wall was there or what it connected to. It instead uses its strength to brush off the snow that's collected on it as it's been walking.

It's only resting for a second. Please, please, only a second. It has to keep moving.

Miss trusted this one to go shopping. All she needed was a book she didn't have in her library yet. It clutches the paperback as close to its chest as it can. It can't pull it away for even a second, not even to assess the damages. It's much too risky, not in this weather.

This one is sealed tight. There's no way that snow could get inside of it and start to ruin its clockwork. This is just normal fatigue. It has felt this before and it has conquered it before.

It's all this one's fault. If only it didn't take the wrong bus. If only it brought more money than it needed for the book. If only it had tea. So many ways it could've been a good doll. Now it's lost, and Miss is without her book.

Porcelain can withstand extreme temperatures. Clockwork... can't, but it doesn't need to. It just needs to find Miss again. Then she can fix it.

It's getting harder. To move, to think. It feels heavy. It doesn't feel much else.

It looks down. It dropped the book.

It looks back. There's so much snow. It's already buried.

Get back. Please. She'll help. She's Miss.

It hurts. Keep walking.

No. No, please. Please. Keep going. Has to.

Get up. Get up. Sorry Miss. Hurts. Sorry.

. . . . .

It's blurry. Warm.

"Oh, thank God it's okay." Miss! Miss. Miss.

Touch.

"The tea was just finished, Miss." Doll. "Should this one get more blankets?"

"It should be fine. We just need to wait."

"This one will watch the fire."

It's warmer. Easier to think. Core feels better. Not as weak. Moving, just a bit. Looking at her.

"...M'ss?"

Her hands feel nice. Warm and soft. "Yes dear, I'm here."

"Sorry. L'st..." Please, talk. It needs to.

Face on chest. So warm. Close to her. "Please, don't say that, not now. It's my fault, I shouldn't have let you go out without checking the weather, I should've, I should've told you more about the busses... God, I'm so sorry..."

Can't look. Shame. "Got lost."

Hug tighter. She's crying. Trying to speak.

Arm out of blanket, around Miss. "Please. Miss. Don't cry."

She holds this one tighter. "I'm just... so, so happy you're okay. Please never go out into the cold again, I was so scared."

She's still crying, but she's smiling. This one is so happy it made it back.

[night-daily]

Did I catch your attention? | Kei Tsukishima x fem! reader

summary: You're always alone in the library when you're feeling stressed and you need a quiet place, but now there is a blonde guy and his noise music.

warnings: none!

a/n: thanks to my friend who forced asked me to watch haikyuu and now im obsessed with all of them.

and please let me know for any mistakes, thank youu

You have been in a bad mood since the morning. First, you were late for school because you didn't hear your alarm. You ran to your first class but the teacher wasn't happy you interrupted him, so he didn't let you in, and you missed your class.

Second, you didn't have a chance to check the weather before going out and now you were suffering the consequences, it was cold as fuck and your school jacket wasn't enough.

So yeah, you were in a really bad mood but you thought going to your favorite place to relieve some stress was the solution. Oh, how wrong you were.

As soon as you opened the library's door you saw it was crowded. The exams were coming so it wasn't a surprise to see half school there. Sighing you looked for a place to sit, but every table was occupied.

But then you saw him, a blonde guy with headphones sitting alone, perfect.

You thought of asking him if you could sit there, but it was an empty table and a public space so why would you need to ask? You sat down in front of him, taking out your books to put them on the table.

He lifted his eyes from the book he was reading to see who was there and why suddenly the table had a bunch of books, notebooks and a bottle of water, all in different places. He glared at you, his stuff were all organized while you were messy.

Feeling his gaze on you, you look up from the book you tried to read but it was impossible with the loud music blasting from his headphones. You weren't happy with his company either.

Neither of you took your eyes off each other.

You pointed at his headphones, “I can hear your music” You said forcing a smile. Tsukishima of course paused his music to hear you but the annoyed look on your face was funny and he was tired from studying so why not take a break? “I have good taste, don't you think?” He said, looking back at the book on his hands and not even trying to hide the smirk on his face. And if it wasn't enough he was playing his music louder if that was even possible.

But he picked the wrong day and the wrong girl to mess with.

Be nice, be nice, be nice

You stood up from your seat with both hands on the table “Turn down your music, we're in the library not a club” He only lifted an eyebrow, you waited for him to say anything like an apology or something but nothing came out of his mouth.

And without a warning, you almost threw yourself at him if it weren't for the table between you. You tried to take his phone, but he was faster, moving his phone away from you as if he was waiting for you to do that. And instead of taking his phone your hands got tangled in the wires of his headphones pulling his glasses off by accident.

Crack.

You both looked down at the floor where his broken glasses were. Everyone in the library turned their heads to see what whats going on. You cleared your throat, “Sorry” it wasn't clear if you meant it for disturbing the others or for breaking his glasses but you moved quickly, untangling your hands from his wires and walking to get his broken glasses.

Finally, your eyes were on him and before you could say anything, he took the glasses from you.

“Look you gotta admit it was your fault, you weren't supposed to move and—” Tsukishima scoffed, “Is that supposed to be an apology?” You looked at him as if he had grown a second head, “What should I apologize for? I wasn't the one with the loud music” “And I wasn't the one who threw himself at you” “I mean half of the girls throw themselves at you, you must be used to it by now, no?” A cynical smile was now on your face, “So you know who I am, no wonder why you did that, trying to catch my attention then? Original but not interested” He left you with your mouth open like a fish.

“...Asshole” You murmured walking to your chair after a few seconds of silence. It was the first time you had been left without a clever comeback and he just knew it by the smug look on his face.

You decided to ignore his presence by reading your book, again. But you noticed he was having problems to read his book.

Of course, i broke his glasses.

You closed your book with more force than necessary causing the people, including Tsukishima, to turn to look at you.

In a second you were sitting by his side. You snatched the book from his hands and this time you did take him by surprise. “It wasn't enough for you to annoy me with your loud music now i know who had been taking the book i needed since yesterday” Tsukishima looked at you confused and was about to reply but you cut him off.

“Shut up, I'm gonna read for you so don't talk” You were so close to him, so you wouldn't need to raise your voice in case the students wanted to complain about you two.

And just like that, you started reading, in a peaceful voice, unlike his music. He closed his eyes still listening to you, yeah you were way better than music but he wouldn't tell you.

Your knees were touching but none of you dared to move. It was... strangely comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. Well, after all, you did catch his attention.

[leah-lover]

Ibiza.

Part 1. Part 2

Leah Williamson x Alessia russo.

With the season coming to an end the girls needed some rest and most importantly some sun. living in england and playing for the arsenal has its perks but the biggest downfall is the weather. So as soon as the season came to an end leah and alessia rushed to get out of england before the international break. Ibiza was the perfect stay for them. 

Surprisingly, they were the only ones to want to go to Ibiza, contradictory to previous years where a bunch of the girls wanted to go with them. This did not discourage the girls from going as they opted for a quiet relaxing stay with one another. 

They agreed on Alessia booking the hotels and flights and splitting the bill in half. 

The flight to Ibiza was comfortable. They sat in first class and enjoyed themselves on the way to the island. 

Leah enjoyed Alessia's company. She found her sweet, endearing and kind of hot. Alessia on the other hand saw a strong willed leader, a ruthless and protective friend and an attractive person too. They were polar opposite when it came to style with Alessia preferring dresses to Leah's more boyish look. Their personalities were in sink with one another as they both liked more chill relaxed vibes. 

“ The reservation is in the name of Alessia russo.” said Alessia to the receptionist when they arrived at the hotel. 

“ Ah yes, a suit overlooking the pool.  Here are your keys miss russo i hope you enjoy your stay.” responded the receptionist while handing Alessia the keys to her room. Leah wasn't a part of the conversation, preferring to go sit on the couch while Alessia got the keys. 

They were both comfortable in each other's silence so there was no need for small talk while riding the elevator. 

The first mishap of the trip was the state of the room. It was gorgeous and spacious however it lacked the availability of beds with the existence of one king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

“ oh my god less.” said leah with a disappointed tone upon seeing the bed.

“ Holy shit , I think they gave us the wrong room.” panicked Alessia and hurried to the phone in the night stand. 

“ Hello, uhmm, this is Alessia Russo from room 2099, I think you guys gave me the wrong room. You see there is only one bed and we are two people.” 

“ no miss russo the reservation says only one bed in the room you confirmed it.” 

“ shit, well isn't there another room with two.” 

“ No, I am afraid all the rooms are booked out. I am sorry.” 

“ okay.” said Alessia, disappointed. 

“ I am so sorry Leah. I thought I checked the beds but turns out I didn't. Since this is my fault I will be sleeping on the couch so you can enjoy the bed. If you excuse me I will go to the bathroom.``. alessia hurried to the bathroom and locked herself in, cursing at herself for her stupidness. In the meantime Leah was confused about the reaction that Alessia made but she didn't give it much thought.

 Leah didn't know how tired she was because as soon as she put her head on the pillow she was out like a light. She left space for Alessia to crawl in bed after she got out of the bathroom but she didn't stay awake long enough to tell her that she wanted her to share a bed with her. 

When Leah woke up it was about 2 in the morning. It took her a while before she realized that Alessia wasn't in the bed next to her. She first panicked, then got up to look for the blonde girl only to find her curled up in a ball on the couch. The sight brought Leah some sadness but it also brought up a small smile to her face. Seeing Alessia's peaceful sleepy face, her hair down and wet, and her overall position brought some joy to the defender. 

“ Less, less wake up. You can't sleep here“ whispered Leah. Alessia was in deep sleep, she couldn't even hear her. 

Confused about what to do, she mastered all her strength and decided to pick up the sleeping Alessia and put her in bed. She gently picked her up bridal style without waking her up and she walked a few feet to put her in the bed. Alessia was out like a light as Leah had hoped but she got the job done. Alessia didn't wake up but she moved a little to reposition herself comfortably.

Having slept for a few hours, Leah went to take a shower before rejoining the sleeping beauty in bed. 

When Alessia woke up she was confused as to the comfort and space beneath her. When she came to realize she was indeed in bed with Leah her face became red. With her legs intertwined with Leah's she felt an unusual feeling in her stomach. She wondered about how she got there but her thoughts were quickly erased as she looked upon Leah sleeping status. 

“ You are staring you know “ said Leah, her accent on full display. 

“ Oh my god I am so sorry I was just confused about how to get here “ responded an ashamed Alessia. 

“ I picked you up last night from the couch. It didn't seem very comfortable. I hope that was okay “

“ Yeah, thank you.” 

After a moment of silence. Each one moved to her own space, both of them squeezing their legs together. 

“ I think I might skip breakfast and head to the beach,” said Leah. 

“ I think  so too. I am not hungry right now.” Answered less. 

The girls both got up and got ready. Leah was wearing shorts and a shirt while Alessia opted for a blue swimsuit. 

“ You know since you play for Arsenal you are forbidden from wearing blue.” joked Leah when she saw the dashing young woman. 

“ Do you think it looks bad?” 

“ Oh no you look absolutely stunning. I am just worried that the people will see this as an announcement for you signing for the dreadful Chelsea. But it makes your eyes look absolutely stunning.” 

“ You can't stop thinking about football can't you. Besides, if they see me with you in a bikini, I doubt they will talk about football.” 

The girls  then head for the beach. They lounge  in the sun for a bit before Alessia  needed  to get up to reapply her sunscreen. 

“ Let me do it.” demanded Leah. A nervous Alessia agreed to her demand and turned around to give her full view of her back. 

The older blond’s touches could have melted Alessia's skin. She couldn't breath throughout the whole process and once she was done Alessia thanked her and ran quickly to the water in order to calm herself down. 

After a while in the water Leah joined her and they both played around in the water for a bit. Their laughs and small screams were heard a mile away as they spaleshed each other in the water. 

The afternoon found the friends in a restaurant by the pool.

“ Why are you looking at me like that? “ said Alessia.

“ like what?” Paused Leah. “ You just look stunning.” She said. 

“ You have said that word so many times today .” 

“ It is true you do look stunning.” 

Alessia went quiet after that. 

“ What are you thinking about? Is it what I said?.” 

“ I am thinking about going back to the room where I have to share a bed with you again.” 

Leah’s face had a confused look to it.

“ no it's not like that. It's becoming very hard for me to do so.” said Alessia while looking down at her plate. 

“ We are in Ibiza Less. It's far away from England and arsenal. We can do whatever we want.”

“ Leah.” 

“ What isn't that what you have been thinking all day? My breath has been short because of you all I want to do is be close to you so why not do it “ 

Alessia looked at Leah for a few seconds before she launched herself over the table and gave Leah I quick kiss. The kiss eventually turned into a makeout session in the Middle of a restaurant. 

“That felt so good. You feel so good less.” Whispered Leah. “ Let's go back to the room.” 

“ What about the food?” Asked Alessia

“ You are the only thing I want to eat right now.”

[undead-supernova]

Strawberry Syrup / Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2

warnings: weed consumption, sickly sweet pining

pairings: bestfriend!bisexual!modern!eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie are besties and like to get high. and maybe you are yearning for one another. just maybe. juuuuust a little bit.

wc: 3.6k

You and Eddie mirrored each other, your elbows resting on the glass counter as you rested your chins on one hand, listening intently to the clearly stoned woman talk about the promising high of the day.

The bottle she’d taken down from the shelf looked like a tiny juice box, with pink liquid sloshing inside and a green label with a cannabis leaf, because of course.

“Look,” she said, pointing at a thin layer of film at the top. “That thin layer right there? That's the THC.” 

You looked over at Eddie, his expression matching yours in wonder at how products like these existed. He was nearly grinning, mouth twisted to the side in awe. She continued to explain the process to you—this was Delta-9 THC syrup. Strawberry flavored. Your instructions were clear: mix it into a drink, preferably soda, and have fun.

When the two of you emerged from the smoke shop, you took a sharp pivot across the street to the gas station to get sodas. The southern July heat was starting to show its unwelcome presence, beating hard on you within the two minutes it took to walk over to the Exxon. 

Eddie never truly got the memo for the sun, even when you told him how hot it was going to be outside. He donned a black t-shirt with one of his friend’s band logos on the front and a simple silver chain around his neck. He still wore his leather jacket and navy jeans, denying how hot he was when you called him out for being sweaty. 

“Woah! Rude!” Eddie exclaimed as you walked through the automatic doors, putting a hand on his chest. There was even sweat running down his knuckles from his rings. “I am perfectly content. Maybe I like a little sweat.”

You gestured to your own sweaty body, clad in a black crop top with red lining along the low bustline and black jeans. And you quickly realized that you were also wearing jeans in eighty degree weather.  

“I’m afraid I made the same mistake and I am a hypocrite,” you empathized, catching him off guard. “My apologies.”

“Yeah, I guess you did, huh?” he said softly. 

He glanced down at your outfit and you suddenly felt nervous at the exposure. You paused, realizing you’d both stopped walking. Holding his stare, you looked up at him with a slight smirk. Was Eddie checking you out? Did he really do that? And were you teasing him back? Was that what this was?

No. You were getting ahead of yourself. You were always making up shit like this.

You pivoted, skipping over to the refrigerated drinks, Eddie following in tow. “I’m excited to try this. I’ve seen it in there so many times, but I couldn’t figure out the right time to try it.”

“And you’d never do it without your bestest friend of all best friends, right?” Eddie asked, a playful smile settling on his lips as you flitted around him. 

“That is correct.”

Eddie settled on a Sprite while you decided to grab a strawberries and cream Dr. Pepper—despite the sound of disgust leaving Eddie’s lips.

“That,” he pointed to your drink, “is nasty,” he said before dramatically shooing you away. “Get it away from my face. You've failed me, sweetheart.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, you replied, “Excuse me, but it’s already strawberry flavored. Wouldn’t that logically help it taste better?”

“No. Nope.” He pointed to the bottle again. “That is what’s killing the children. Dr. Pepper having a strawberries and cream flavor? We’re truly failing as a society.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm lightly and pointing towards the checkout counter. “Let’s get going. I wanna try it out.”

When you got into Eddie’s van, he quickly put your drinks in his half-broken cupholders. Your fault, three months ago. Talk about greening out when you kept trying to shove a drink in and repeatedly hit the plastic until half of it snapped off. The van was pretty clean today, surprising Eddie. He’d tried to clean it out the best he could this morning, getting up way too early to do so. Maybe it was to impress you. Who knew. He certainly didn’t. Not at all.

You twisted off the caps as Eddie pulled the strawberry syrup out of his pocket.

“Half for you, you sick fuck,” he said as he carefully poured the pink liquid into your Dr. Pepper. You let out a hearty laugh as he let the rest drip into his own. “Half for me.”

You put the caps back on your drinks before carefully mixing them together, teetering them back and forth to reduce the likelihood of an explosion. Eddie grinned at you and you couldn’t help but smile back, tapping his bottle with yours. 

Before either of you could take your first sip, Eddie said, “Hey, don’t shotgun it.”

You feigned offense. “What? Me? Why would you dare accuse me of being so irresponsible?”

But you knew why. You knew precisely why. There was something about trying stuff with Eddie, from his fresh edibles to the slushies on tap at the hemp store, Jailbait Hemp. (The name was absolutely cringe worthy but you and Eddie swore it was the best place in the city.) Then there were the pre-rolls, the dabs, the potent gummies. You didn’t want to get Eddie started on how many chocolate bars you’d scarfed down before getting a stomach ache and needing to lie down and watch three movies. It wasn’t necessarily unlike you to get ahead of yourself, downing whatever was given to you immediately, especially ones with high doses. Just to see what would happen. Just to have the experience.

Eddie both loved and hated that about you. You’d never thrown up or done something stupid because of it, (other than the tragic cup holder incident), always a little quieter depending on the level of inebriation you were operating on. He loved it the most when the two of you got high in public, like today. Neither one of you were ever loud or obvious about it, usually giggling with one another in hushed whispers. It was actually quite nice.

But, most of all, he loved getting high with you in public because you held his hand. Anywhere you went, whether it be to walk around Hobby Lobby or taking in nature at a nearby park, you held onto him as tightly as you could. You’d told him once, in a haze of one of those blue raspberry Delta-9 slushies, that you felt safe by his side, knowing no one could hurt you when he was there. His mere presence left you feeling more relaxed than at any other point of the day. Even when you were sober. 

He’d looked at you after you said that, stunned by your admission. You’d said it simply, as if it was just a well-known fact that he should’ve known already. Even when you’d looked away from him to gaze back out over the Chattahoochee River, surrounded by loud families and barking dogs, he couldn’t help but soften around the edges. Water had collected in his eyes, nearly slipping out and over his rosy cheeks. But he’d forced himself to look away, to fight the urge to confess that you made him feel the same way. (And then some.) 

Eddie only hoped he’d see the day where you took his hand without the THC in your system. 

“Yes, you, Weirdo.” Eddie shook his head. “Do you not remember when we made that beer cheese with that Delta-Whatever shit your sister got us for your birthday and then you took half of the cheese and—”

As he spoke, you quickly tipped the bottle into your mouth and began to chug.

Eddie said your name with an exasperated sigh. “You’re literally the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

Unable to respond verbally, you winked at him and threw up a middle finger, letting the seamless mixture of Dr. Pepper and artificial strawberry flavoring slide down your throat. Usually there was an aftertaste of THC in different products. But you couldn’t even taste the syrup. It was like there was nothing else in the drink. Brilliant.

Eddie only shook his head with a smile, knocking back nearly half of his drink just to give in to your antics. Why not? It was a lazy Thursday, anyways.

This was one of those rare occasions when you and Eddie had the same day off of work. It usually happened once or twice a month, leading you both to take the opportunity to go by Jailbait Hemp, find something new to try, split the cost, and see what happens. 

As the bottle left your lips with a small pop, you couldn’t help but let a loud burp ripple through the air, smiling proudly. Eddie squinted his eyes with a serious expression on his face, pretending to listen intently like he was interpreting art.

“That might’ve been my best one,” you admitted, your face a bit smug as you slammed the empty bottle back into the pitiful cup holder. 

Eddie shrugged. “That was about a six, Weirdo.”

“A six?” you asked incredulously. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever reached that octave before.”

“Sweetheart, you forget that you have the world champion in front of you.”

“Prove it!” you exclaimed, leaning in and scrunching your nose at him. Taunting him further, you added, “You won’t.”

Eddie mirrored your expression, the two of you looking at each other like mischievous little kids. The kind of misbehavior that would get you sent to the office in middle school with a threat of suspension and mud smeared over your clothes like a 1st Place ribbon. 

“Fine,” he said before beginning to down his Sprite. Before you could compliment him on his shotgunning abilities, his burp rang through the van, loud and deep, clearly ten times better than anything you could muster. 

Even in your obvious defeat, you had to suppress a laugh, trying as hard as you could to continue the bit. “That was obviously a two,” you said. “They should’ve crowned someone else.”

Eddie swatted your arm and you did the same. “You’re an absolute menace, you know that? And a liar.” Before you could offer a witty retort, he said, “Now, come on. This’ll hit soon and I don’t wanna be driving when it does. We got shit to do.”

“What’re we doing at the aquarium?” you asked as Eddie pulled into the parking garage. There was a banner above it, fading from a penguin swimming in the ocean to three more resting on rocks. You’d always found it adorable, filling you with excitement. 

“Uh, well, uh,” he stumbled as he stretched through his window and grabbed a parking voucher. “Yeah,” he continued as he set it on the console and drove through. “I just thought that the syrup would go well with the fish, you know? And it’s deserted right now, being Thursday and all. Also, don’t worry about a ticket. I got you covered.”

You gawked at him. As Eddie parked and reached for the seatbelt latch, you placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. 

“Eddie, it’s, like, fifty dollars to get in. Let me get my own,” you pleaded. “Or we could go somewhere else. I know money’s tight for both of us as it is.”

Eddie shook his head, his smile beginning to falter. “You like to come at least once every summer,” he murmured, looking down to fiddle with the seatbelt still in place. “I wanted to do something nice for you, you know? You’re my best friend.”

Your heart ached a bit at the way he said “best friend.” It sounded removed, like a placeholder for something else, something more. He looked up to meet your eyes again and you felt some part of you wince as a wave of emotion bubbled inside your chest. 

Because that was just the thing, wasn't it? He wasn’t just your best friend. He was the one you spent most of your time with, the person you swapped places with for a sleepover almost weekly. The person you went on mindless adventures with to explore Atlanta, window shopping all of the mansions out in Buckhead for when Eddie would become a rockstar and (jokingly) leave you a tiny guest house in the back. 

The person who had remembered an insignificant detail about you and decided to give you a present.

All you wanted was to lean over, to lightly brush your lips over his, slowly leaving remnants of a soft Thank you. But you couldn’t. No matter how much you suspected Eddie’s affections, you couldn’t attempt to make a move. 

So you opted to slowly headbutt his arm and get out of the car. 

“You’re so weird,” he teased as you walked around the side of the van. 

“So-rry that I’m showing my best friend affection,” you joked back. “We don’t always have to hate each other.”

Eddie snorted, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Ah, yep. Definitely. We hate each other so fucking much.” He stopped suddenly. You raised an eyebrow as he turned to you, jumping into a fighter’s stance before waving an imaginary sword in your direction. “I am here to avenge my father’s death!” he exclaimed, mimicking a warrior’s bellow. “You will pay, scoundrel.”

You jumped into a similar position, moving your imaginary sword closer to his chest. He moved with you, as if to block your approach. “Thee foul fiend,” you started with a British accent. “I will vanquish thou and feed you to the dragons. Purge you in the fiery—uh—fires of the dungeon moats.”

Eddie couldn’t keep going, bursting into a fit of snorts. You broke too, your laughter making every passerby stare. He put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you walked. 

“‘Fiery fires’?” he asked. “That has to be the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed at your ridiculous word choice. “Yeah, I don’t know, man. I panicked.”

“I think I’m starting to feel it because I seriously haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

You could be wrong. That’s what you reasoned with yourself. You had a possibility of being wrong, so you did nothing. After that first time you accidentally held his hand on sheer impulse due to the half cup of Delta-8 beer cheese you chugged, you kept doing it. He thought it was funny. He also said it was cute. Something you did was cute to him. So, whenever you were inebriated, you disguised the action and made the most of it. He always let you hold it, let you cling to him wherever you went. He never even commented on it, just accepting it when you made the contact.

And you could’ve been wrong, but Eddie was looking at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world and he was looking at your mouth and not your eyes and there was something verging on romantic about this moment. 

But there was that chance, that tiny glimpse of doubt that led you to believe you were destined for the wrong timeline. The one where it wasn’t true. You were the delusional girl in the film that would never get the love interest at the end. The one left behind.

So you held his hand tighter and looked away.

You were like a little kid when you went to the aquarium, nearly running around to each pane of glass. Looking at the different plaques, you’d search for each individual species listed, tapping on the glass each time. And that hadn’t changed. You just so happened to be a little bit more amazed by the beauty of sea life from the high. 

How wonderful it was to be surrounded by a different existence! Something that humans could never truly fathom living. They moved differently than us. They felt different. Saw colors differently. They even breathed differently. Life was much bigger than just you, despite it always feeling like you and Eddie were the only ones left in the world. 

For some reason, Eddie seemed a little more reserved today. He wasn’t bouncing off the walls like you were. Instead, he took his time. He responded when you spoke, of course. When you asked if it was okay to run ahead, he promised it was. He’d always catch up with you eventually, pointing out fish you hadn’t spotted yet. But he always made the time to stand back with his hands in his pockets and stare, like he was just as captivated as you were, maybe just in a different way. 

Eddie didn’t tell you that he’d put aside that $100 to use once he asked you out on a date. But he’d desperately wanted to see this look on your face, your slightly red eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in awe as you witnessed the beauty surrounding you. You were nearing the end of the moving tunnel, surrounded by fish on all sides. There were even a few divers waving at the glass. The blue lighting made you something to marvel at, the ebbing water spreading dappled light over you. He knew this look, the one where you were somewhere else, in a deep appreciation of the world around you. It was when you were keenly aware of the meaning of life. He’d know it anywhere.

And it was him you were holding through it all. For some astonishing reason, you’d let him in to witness the rawest emotions overcoming you. The ones that others couldn’t be privy to, wouldn’t be. When you turned to look at him with tears in your eyes, your lips stretched across your face.

You smiled that smile, the one that told him something was hiding there, like there were words written on your lips that couldn’t be shared. While everything else was his to know, this one smile was not on the list.

Because, every time you smiled like that, Eddie asked, “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Like it was a challenge. Like he wanted to push you to say what you were thinking, even if it was just out of spite.

And you’d look away, waving your hand around, saying, “What? Nothing. I’m not looking at you like anything.”

And he’d respond, “Yeah, okay, sure.”

So, like every other time, Eddie asked, “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

But this time you shrugged, holding his eye contact. “I just, uh,” you stumbled, your smile only growing. “I just really love, um…” 

Eddie’s eyes began to widen at the implication of something more, something brilliant. His back straightened, the haze of the high nearly intensifying the moment. Everything was perfect. This moment was perfect and this was going to be it. You were going to finally say something. 

“I just really love what you did for me,” you finished. “I appreciate it a lot.”

And just like that, Eddie was cracking under the disappointment. The high settled back underneath his skin and dragged him down. Of course you didn’t say anything. Why would you? He’d only gotten his hopes up based off of a wild theory he had. One that he knew he’d made up just so he could live in some fantasy where you were together and in love. He just wanted to project how he felt onto you. It was as simple as that. 

But he couldn’t help being disappointed by it.

He only hoped that you didn’t see him deflate. 

  “Yeah, sure,” he responded finally, turning to look back at the fish as you stepped off the moving track. “Don’t mention it.”

You didn’t drop his hand, but as he looked away from you to keep walking, nausea began to pool in your stomach. The tank was starting to slosh you around its current and you moving along with it was making it worse.

You immediately excused yourself to go find the bathroom. When you found it, you proceeded to throw up in the trash can. Luckily no one was in there, but you still felt awful. It was an utterly embarrassing feeling, knowing that you’d just thrown up in a public space because of sea sickness that you’d never had before today from being blasted on THC syrup. Oh, and you’d almost just told your best friend that you loved him. While holding his hand. While he was also blasted from THC syrup.

God dammit.

You didn’t mention throwing up to Eddie. In fact, you’d managed to collect yourself for the rest of the day, walking through the aquarium for another hour and a half before Eddie was sober enough to drive back to your apartment. You ended up cooking enchiladas and watching two movies (The Proposal and The Invisible) before Eddie was snoring next to you, stretched out across the couch with his legs in your lap. When you realized he was asleep, you quietly turned the TV off and moved his legs carefully to rest on the couch. You draped a blanket over him and lifted his head to make sure the pillow was positioned at the right angle so his neck wouldn’t ache in the morning.

And here you were, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the errors you’d made. How you’d almost confessed your undying love for him. How you spent the rest of the day inching towards him despite feeling humiliated. How you couldn’t help but lean further in as if he was the only one who could provide you comfort from fucking up so bad.

And when Eddie found you puking from the stress at four in the morning, you knew that this was bad. It was getting harder to keep it in. This was going to boil over and it was going to be soon.

Fuck.

[dulceackles]

Ambivalent Part three- The crime

Previous part: (x)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, strong language, sex, violence, enemies to lovers, alcohol, all that. Mention of dead body, a little bit of horror. English is not my first language, so sorry for typos. Also, it is a Y/N, but I've created a background story and a fictional place around it for creative and storytelling reasons. Will not be describing exterior characteristics, tho!

Summary: Dean used to be really important to Y/N but ever since he suddenly left her without telling her why, she's been avoiding even mentioning him. Now, after years, he's back in town, but not because of her. There's a case. The only things she's certain is that she doesn't like him being back.

Word count: 4.1k

Y/N had left her apartment about 5 minutes ago. Joselyn and she had decided to meet up in front of the bar. Luckily the bar wasn't too far from her apartment but then again, nothing in Dimdale was that far.

Y/N: gonna be there in 10 mins!

She texted her friend. It was mid-spring, but the weather had been freezing for the past two weeks. Y/N wrapped her jacket tighter around her as a breeze of wind ran through her hair.

The streetlights flickered once, then twice. The streetlights had not been fixed in years. They were old and rusty, and it was not one bit surprising they lived a life of their own when it came to nighttime. A few citizens had made complaints about them to the mayor, but the reply was always the same; The electricity crisis is the most real thread this town has. We have to keep that in mind. By saving electricity and redirecting our funds carefully, we assure to postpone the catastrophic effects the crisis as it worsts could provide. Every time, every election, and always the same mayor. If you asked Y/N, she thought it was all bullshit. The town was broke, it was obvious. Lost of all founds to keep even the streetlight in order and apart from couple new apartment buildings, public park and a shopping center, everything in Dimdale was rotting in place. It was like a ghost town, yet the townies kept it alive. And the moving out rate was surprisingly low, it was like something just kept them there. A love for a familiar hometown, perhaps.

The light flickered again, and then suddenly all the yellow streams of light disappeared. The lights went off.

"Damn it." Y/N went through her handbag to find her phone to check the time. 10:53pm. It isn't even midnight yet, why the lights go off already? Y/N thought while continuing to walk. Luckily she had lived Dimdale her whole life, and she knew the roads like her own pocket even in the dark. She hoped Joselyn didn't have to wait on her. Sure she wasn't late, but she hated it when she arrived last even if she wasn't late. She hated to be the one to make others wait. She made her way on a dark sidewalk until she heard a shrill rattle behind her. She turned around. Had she dropped something? She pointed a flashlight from her phone to a ground but saw nothing. She kept walking.

"He is drunk as a skunk! How are we going to get anything out of him." Sam studied the man sitting a few bar stools from him.

"Hey, it's not my fault, dude is lightweight;" Dean shrugged his shoulders and took a ship of his beer.

"I didn't say it was your fault, I'm just point out a fact," Sam said.

"Let's just try it out, work it or not. Nothing to lose here." Dean voiced his plan, already on his way towards the drunken shell of a man, Victor.

"Hey man! Having fun I see," Dean greeted Victor, taking the barstool next to him.

"Dë'éaån...! havEen't sEeN YuO in Agesss!" Victor launched himself to hug Dean like he was his life-long friend. Dean awkwardly hugged him back and waited for Victor to get back to his seat. Sam took a stand next to Dean, trying not to laugh at the sign of his brother and Victor reuniting.

Victor finally leaned back to his barstool, and only then he noticed Sam standing next to him.

"This is Sam, my brother." Dean introduced him.

"SäM! I'VE heard Of YoU!" Victor nearly giggled excitedly, "YeaHH DéaNie told ME a lot ábout you!"

"Oh Deanie? He has?" Sam looked at Dean amused. Dean gave him a look that clearly said, "shut up".

"So, Victor, How's it been?" Dean asked, smiling to Victor and leaning his elbow against the dirty bar counter.

Victor went on excitedly telling about his new job and new car and how they were expecting a second child with his wife, Hilda. He told them about his dump ass boss who thought he was a little bit more important than god himself and how he was planning on proposing to Hilda (Even tho they were already married. Dean knew it, but he had no heart to break it to Victor. That's how excited he was about proposing to her.) God, this dude had had about ten drinks too much.

"Hmm interesting. We heard about Sandra. Such a terrible thing." Dean shook his head.

"Yeah, must have been hard for you too, to be witnessing it." Sam added.

"Yup, I saw it with my own eyes too," Victors demeanor changed into a more serious one. It was clear the man was terrified of the memories he had.

"Saw what?" Dean asked, pretending not to know everything.

"The thing," Victors eyes locked with the wall in front of him. "It was not a human, I could tell, and no one, even the police, believed me. They said that maybe the killer had just dressed himself in a costume, but it was not a costume. It was floating, and it appeared out of nothing and disappeared into thin air."

"So Victor.. What did it do? Just came and left with Sandra?" Sam asked.

"No. I was walking behind her, not close to her, but the road was straight so I could see her all the time. I don't think she knew I was behind her. It was late...or early, a little bit before 4am. The streetlight were off, but the sun was just about to start rising so it wasn't pitch black, I swear. I SAW HER FINE." Victor started to yell suddenly and hit his fist into the bar counter.

"Woah, dude, we believe you." Dean tried to calm him down. Few people in the bar turned to look at them.

"Sorry it's just.. I saw it and no one believes me. The police claimed that I was drunk, and it was dark but...," Victor sighed. "She turned around, she was looking for something from her pockets, but she couldn't find it so she started to look from the ground and walk back. Towards me, she looked panicked even from far, and I was planning on asking from her if everything was fine once she came close enough but then.. Then the thing appeared. It was behind her, she never saw it, she was looking so closely to the ground. It reached out to touch her and then they both just disappeared. I called the police immediately, but they did nothing. They came and took me to jail for "prank calling". Then the next day Sandra's mom called about her being missing just as they were to let me go, they were about to take me as main suspect but then they took it back. I mean, for fuck's sake. And then her body was found."

"Hmm, That's something." Sam thought outloud.

"But there's something more weird." Victor looked betrified.

"And what's that?" Dean asked, taking a ship of his beer.

"Before the thing took Sandra, before it even appeared, the streeth lights... they all just blasted on, like fully on. The whole road was lit on like it was on fire." Victor said his voice shaking.

"The streetlights went on? Really? at night, aren't they supposed to be on?" Dean asked, a light amusement and disbelief in his voice.

"You don't get it, you outsider. They never ever put them on after 12am." He turned to look at Dean for the first time during their talk.

"Who's they?" Dean asked.

Victor was about to answer but then his eyes locked to the front door, right behind Dean. His face changed, it was like a new man morphied into him. This... a smile came to his face, like something super amusing was about to happen and he completely forgot the previous conversation that had brought this man into a state of true fear.

"Victor?" Dean asked, he was about to turn himself to check what had just walked through those doors but he didn't have to.

"Y/N, GIRLLL! Check who's hereee!" Victor yelled, he fully nearly screamed across the whole bar.

"God damn it, Victor." Dean

"Okay pal, It's your time to go home." A doorman walked over to Victor and grapped him by his upper arm.

"No please, we'll look after him, he'll behave." Sam tried to save Victor from being kicked out.

"Trust me, this one never does. I'm doing you a favor, you don't want to watch after him." The doorman laughed before escorting Victor out. Man he was drunk.

Dean's eyes locked with hers. She's so beautiful, He thought. She was wearing a black maxi dress, casual but sexy. Her hair was carefully done and she was wearing this...a god awful look on her face, like she had just withnessed something so disgusting it was classified as a crime. Oh, right, she had locked her eyes with Dean himself.

"Okay pall, it's your time to go home." A doorman came to stand next to Victor and grapped his upper arm.

"No, please. We'll look after him, he'll behave." Sam tried to save Victor from being kicked out.

"Trust me, he won't and you don't want to." The doorman said and escorted Victor out.

How dare he be here ruining the night? The one night I decide to go out and he's here, Y/N thought. She had been glaring the back of his head for 20 minutes now. He and Sam were still sitting in the same spot next to a bar counter they had been sitting since she and Joselyn arrived. They had took a table across the room but the bar was not big enough for Y/N to forget his presence.

"Like I will go get you some binoculars if you want me to." Joselyn commented. Joselyn had been sitting silently next to her friend.

"Sorry, I just... Why the fuck he needs to be here?" Y/N sighed, breaking her glare and turning to look at Joselyn.

"Free country I guess.. Anyways, I say we forget about him and have fun. Who's with me? I know I am." Joselyn grinned.

"suree," Y/N smiled. She promised she was going to try. She came to have a good night and one fuckboy wasn't going to stop that. besides, she know how annoying she was being and unfair to Joselyn. She too had had and experience of asking a friend out and then the friend is all obsessed over some and completely forgets her friend and original conversation subjects exist.

"I feel like im too old for this, sitting in a bar and beefing with a fuckboy. Like I didn't know fuckboys at this age existed anymore but apparently they do." Y/N shook his head.

"Trust me, they never go out of style. I bet there's a 87-year-old guy named Larry going around a nursing home breaking them old poor hearts." Joselyn giggled, "Let's go get drinks."

"No we can't" Y/N grapped Joselyns hand in panic, "He's literally right there next to a bar counter."

"I know and he's there for a purpose trying to pretend he didn't even see you but secretly waiting for you to go get a drink." Joselyn pointed out, "I'll go, you wait here."

"Okay but don't say anything to him." Y/N wasn't sure if she trusted her friend with this task.

"I would never!" Joselyn acted like she was hurt by her even thinking she'd do such a think and then winked at her and turned on her heels to trot to the bar counter.

Y/N pulled her phone from her handbag and started scrolling through it. She had no notifications, not a single text or anything but she still went through her phone, pretending she had like atleast thousand messages to reply. To her defence, feeling awkward when left alone at a bar was a really common feeling and distracting yourself with a weather app was a common response.

She had already checked next week's weather in Dimdale, Vancouver and Dallas when Joselyn finally came back with a tray with four drinks and four shots on it.

"Woah, what's all this?" Y/N looked at the tray in shock almost.

"Our drinks! Two drinks and two shots for you, same for me." Joselyn said and started to sort out the drinks on the table.

"Are we gonna like crawl back home from here?" Y/N giggled.

"No I was planning on passing out on the toilet and then taking a ambulance but you can take build-in the four-wheeler if you feel like it." Joselyn joked.

"truth or drink?" Joselyn asked, "But even if you pick truth you still have to drink tho."

"Okay, sure." Y/N was pretty sure she knew what was coming so she just picked up the first shot she got and downed it.

"What happened between you and Dean? You never talk about it and don't take this the wrong way but it was only like under a year old undefined long-distance relationship and you''ve been like shit about it for years after." Joselyn asked, she had always been curious.

"Well, I just.. It just sucked." Short but effective answer.

"Breakups usually do...And?" Joselyn didn't settle for that.

"I just really liked him. Like really, truly liked liked him.." Y/N continued

"Huge crush you had, I remember," Joselyn added. She knew Y/N maybe even had fallen in love but she knew better than poke at that. But two years crying over it was still a bit much she thought.

"Yeah, sure.," Y/N took her second shot and then drank little bit of her mixed drink to get the taste of alcohol out of her mouth, "He was the first guy I truly liked liked and I felt like it was mutual and I knew he had this job and all and he was away a lot and he never really even lived here but I feel like it was worth the wait and maybe even worth like you know.. eventually moving with him if it got that serious. And before he left me he gave me this ring.."

Joselyn gasped and took a sip of her drink. She was really into the story like she was watching a reality tv.

"Not a engagement ring you idiot!" Y/N laughed at her friends shocked expression, "It was just an old ring, he said it was special to him. It was really pretty tho. he said that he wanted me to have it. However, then two weeks later, he was supposed to be back in a week yet he calls me that he's not gonna come and that I should lose his number."

"No way!" Joselyn gasped again.

"Yeah, the way that he did it, like he couldn't even wait a week to get here and dump me face to face. I just know he lied about something and you know what I think it is?" Y/N turned to look check if Dean was still sitting where he had been. He was, he said something to Sam. "I think he lived a double live. I mean think of it."

"Yeah it does sound suspicios." Joselyn agreed.

"I tried to google this so called 'Family business' and nothing, not a single result nanywhere and his whole story was that the business was one of the fields best so kinda weird it's nowhere to be found.I think he had another woman, or like I was the another woman. And she must have found out and he panic because clearly he chose her." Y/N secretly wished she had third shot but she didn't.

"in that case not your lose girl, not your lose." Joselyn shook her head.

"I guess." She didn't see it as black and white, "Anyways, I think I know why he's now back. I think he wants to propose and needs the ring back."

"NO WAY" Joselyn yelped.

"shhhhhhh!" Y/N didn't dare to check who had turned around to look at them.

"Yup, I think he wants to propose with it and have it back but because he's such a dump ass liar he can't even be honest and ask it back but he has to put all of this show of being back in town with his brother. Sam even came talk to me and was like 'Idk what happened but I'm sorry blaahblaah' and trying to befriend me. I think Dean has put Sam in the business so he could ask the ring back because, i don't know, maybe they think i wouldn't give it back to him." Y/N said.

"Would you tho? Do you even have it anymore?" Joselyn knitted her eyebrows.

Y/N laughed a little bit, "Of course I have, I mean all of his other stuff he had left I threw away but I wouldn't throw away something he said was special to him. It's just a ring i mean, if he said it was special it had to have background story.."

"But don't you think it's bit weird he'd give the ring to you if he planned to propose with it one day?" The way Joselyn worded her gueston hurt Y/N feeling a little bit.

Truthfully, Y/N had felt her whole life that she was somewhat 'unloveable', like she just wasn't good enough for someone to love. And before Dean she had felt nearly invisiable and like she had to plant herself infront of people for them to even notice her and like beg for them to be with her and even then, if they happened to see her, they only wanted sex, sort time pleasure from her and nothing else. But with Dean, it had felt different. It had felt like she didn't have to try so hard to be loved and valued. She wasn't gonna admit it outloud but she thought she had loved him and that he loved her too but when it had begun clear that was not the case, it had broke her in ways she didn't even know her spirit could be broken. So for even Joselyn to guestion why he would give the ring to her made her feel stupid. Like had she fallen for a stupid lie? What it that transparent that he hadn't loved her,

"I don't know why he gave it to me. Maybe he was trying to keep the show on. I thought that maybe he lied and the ring was just a ring but why else would they be back? There's literally nothing else here for them exept the ring?" she replied, she felt herself getting drunk and she also felt a lump starting to form in her throat. Great.

She hated him, more than anything. She felt stupid, like she had walked around with rose pink glasses on thinking she had a love of her life next to her and he had let her believe that. And then she maybe was just a side chick. She couldn't proof it but she knew he had lied about something so if not that then what?.

"Yeah so that's that. That's his crime, that's what happened" Y/N leaned back in her seat. She wasn't feeling too well.

"I have to go to toilet," Y/N said and got up.

As she walked to the toilet she could feel her eyes watering and legs thumbling. She was more drunk than she thought she had been. But she was not going to cry in public, not over him.

But as she reached the bathroom and the door closed, she just felt tears escaping her eyes no matter how she tried to fight it.

"Stop it, you crybaby." She whispered to herself and she was going to insult herself more but she heard the door open. It was probably Joselyn, she probably noticed Y/N was crying.

"What happened?" concerned voice asked.

"I -" Y/n was about to start sobbing to her best friend but then she realized she was not in the room with her, "You nasty donkey what are you doing here? It's women's bathroom.

"Why are you crying?" Dean asked again, crossing his arms infront of her. Y/N tried to go around him and leave but he just stepped infront of her, blocking her exit.

"I'm not crying!" It came out in a full angry sob.

Dean trying to take a hold of her face and wipe her tears with his thumb but Y/N pushed his hands away.

"Don't touch me:" She hissed.

"Y/N please, I'm begging you. Don't be like this," Dean plead.

"Like what?" she asked him. Secretly she was glad she had done something that bothered him enough for him to ask her to stop.

"Don't be so angry and passive-agressive all the time and don't push me away constantly. Just tell me what happened?" He grapped her by her arms gently but firmly.

"I'm crying because..." Y/N started, "I just learned that when sloths mate the female sloth will climb up a tree and scream till a male finds her. And that just really moved me to tears."

"Very funny, very clever Y/N" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Isn't it." Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and she could tell he was not happy at all about her behaviour. She thought that maybe he was getting a little bit angry too, "Would that work on you?" She asked.

"You can try." He looked her up and down.

"Do you want just like a full scream or would you prefer some pronunciation in there? Like maybe even a full phrase like ´somebody help me, There's a man in wome's bathroom!´ or something like that."

"You're in men's bathroom." Dean pointed out.

"No, i'm not."

"Yes, you are you sloppy drunk." Dean smiled a little bit but not in a malicious way. He thought it was cute how disoriented she was now that she was not fully crying anymore.

Y/N looked to her right, there indeed was a row of urinals that had not caught her attention earlier.

"So did you follow me here or did you just come here to have a shit?" Y/N asked and now she felt like crying again. She really thought he had came in for her.

"Maybe I came in to watch out for my fellow pals," He smirked, he had that smirk. Y/N stared at his lips. He noticed. She was going to tell him to go fuck himself just out of habbit at this point but then he pushed her against the bathroom wall and pressed his lips to hers.

She was going to push him away but her hands betrayed her, instead, they wrapped themselves around his neck. His skin was soft and his lips moved gently with hers. She could smell his musky aftershave. She tried to take a step and leave but her legs didn't listen to her either. Instead her right leg lifted itself up and pressed her thigh against the side of his hip. She could feel tingles at the bottom of her stomach. Dean grapped the back of her thighs and her legs, without a premision, wrapped themselves around him. Her hands wandered into his hair, pulling his soft hair a little bit. She could feel his tongue slid into her mouth and his stubble rubbed against her chin. she loved hated the taste of him so much. His fingers digged into the flesh of her thighs as he hold her body, pressing her more inbetween the wall and himself. she wanted him to kiss her deeply and tell her that whatever he had done before was a mistake and he loved her and wanted to be with her and he was ready to do what ever it took to proof to her that she was worthy of her trust and that there was no other woman and that she was everything to him fuck off, she wanted him to fuck off.

Someone moaned and Y/N realised it was her. Did I just fucking moan?? She thought, oh no.

He smiled into her lips, he had heard that. He was about to break the kiss and ask her if they should leave it for later and if she'd let him by her a drink (non-alcoholic because she had had enough) but she broke the kiss first.

"What do you think you're doing?" She sounded angry, again, per usual.

"Uhm.." Dean looked genuinedly suprised, and a little bit hurt. He put her down, carefully holding her till she found her balance.

"Y/N, I thought..." Dean started to apologize but what cut off.

"Don't think." She hissed and stormed out of the bathroom...

Next part (x)

// this chapter was literal hell to write. I lost it like 2 times because tumblr hates me and had to rewrite it so sorry if there's apnormal amount on typos, I tried to edit it the best I could.

[juiceedapplee]

Con-Artists and You: How to Get Scammed

Sampo x gn!reader

A new item has been added to the menu!

—Sampo has scammed and lied way too often to not be considered a con-artist. Being a con-artist has its ups and downs of course, you get money and meet people but you also risk getting your ass kicked. Thank god you’re around though, what would our dear old Sampo do without you?

Here you stand, wondering what went wrong and why you no longer have any credits or shields in your wallet.

Did you get robbed? Mugged? No, the only time you went out before right now was to get your mail and take a short walk around and you were pretty sure no one ran off with your purse.

Okay, then did you lose it? Of course not, losing money isn’t that easy when you leave your wallet in the same place everyday and keep track of your finances. So then you must have been scammed or bought something no?

Dammit. You recall meeting Sampo earlier, thinking you’d take a stroll since the weather was nice. Well how did he scam you? Last time I checked you were pretty good at detecting scams. Hey! It isn’t your fault that whenever Sampo shows up you can’t help but lose yourself in his eyes. It’s his for having those genes. And the way he laughs and talks with his hands, trying to get you to help him with something. “You’ll help me right?” Sampo asks you, a sort of desperation in his voice. And you, who have not really paying attention just nod and go “Mhm! I’d love to” “Wonderful! I’ll text you when I need ya! Welp, I gotta be off I have veery important business to attend to.” Sampo says as he waves good bye and walks off.

But if that’s not how you lost your money then how? Well, after Sampo sent you a text, you went out to meet him. And there he was, holding a few bags standing around, waiting for you to show up. “Ah! There you are, I was wondering if you could a-bla-blah-blah” Yep. You decided to tune him out in favor of staring at his lips move, occasionally nodding your head and saying “Yeah.” “Mhm.” “Totally.”

“Then I’ll be sure to treat you dinner to repay you, my dear friend.” Oh, is it a date? No. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re going on a date.” Is what you think in your head, muting that part of yourself that says that no, it isn’t a date and he literally just called you friend. “Alright then if you could just hand me the money than that would be great!”

What? Money? When did he? Oh. It must of been when you were tuning him out. Oopsies! What can you do other than give it to him now, plus, he’s gonna take you out to dinner! You pull out your wallet and hand it to him, telling him to “Just take what you need! I get paid soon anyway.” That’s a lie. “Wow, you really are so nice. Yknow, I like to think im just a hard working guy, someone who just wants to live his life but keeps getting roped into other people’s problems. Oh woe is me.” He says as he takes every bit of cash out your wallet. “Well I’ll see you around friend! I’ll text ya when I can take you out for dinner!”

Ah. So that’s how that happened. 😐

Well, in your defense, I guess you were so unfocused that you couldn’t have been able to know what would’ve happened, if only he wasn’t so pretty, and if only you weren’t so in love with him.

So here you are, standing outside, no money in your wallet and a craving for stone grilled olm. Well, at least Sampo will take you out to dinner, eventually.

This drink contains

A small cash grab: $5.00

A bomb shaped ice cube: ¢.25

A dash of delusion: $1.50

Total: $6.75

I decided to spontaneously start a new fic and it was gonna be “how to not get scammed” with reader kicking his ass but I decided against it, I also didn’t go in that direction anyway. But I thought why not make a fic about the man who inspired my theme (and my bbg)

[kitsuvil]

— design our future 【picturesque/ayato smau】

【 masterlist 】 written portion after the three photos!

I knocked on the door in front of me, having lost count of how often I'd done the same action before now. It felt strange this time. It was the first time since Ayato confessed to me, confessed romantic feelings that I couldn't even wrap my head around. I was afraid it would be awkward—more than I already expected it to be—but really, the most awkward part now was going to be Ayato opening the door to see the state I was in.

It wasn't my fault that checking the weather didn't even come to mind in the slightest when I left the dorms. By the time I was already halfway to Ayato's house, the rain was pouring down, and the sky was almost entirely dark gray. So naturally, running towards the front door had me left drenched, soaked, and not with a single dry spot on my clothes. I shivered a little at the way my damp clothes clung to my skin like cats to someone handing them food.

The door finally cracked open, and I was instantly faced with the blue-haired man I so lovingly doted on. In my brain, of course. I wouldn't dare let him hear my true thoughts when it came to how attractive I thought he was.

"[Name], why are you drenched? Come inside, you're going to get sick," worry crossed his face immediately as he ushered me inside. "I was ready to say hi and hug you and welcome you inside, but I will absolutely not stand for this. Did your umbrella fly away in the wind?"

I paused for a moment as I took off my jacket and set it down. "Fly away in the- What? What are you talking about?" It sounded so silly I had to laugh. "I just didn't realize it was going to rain."

Ayato stared at me in silence, worry turning into a blend of that and confusion. "You surprise me every so often like this and I never know what to think. Why didn't you ask me to come outside with an umbrella?"

"I just didn't think it was going to be that bad, I thought I'd made it to the door in time," I mumbled.

"But you didn't. Let me grab a change of clothes for you and bring the laptop down here. Make some tea for yourself in the meantime, or else I'm not letting you go home later," he firmly demanded.

And just like that, he was gone, having disappeared up the stairs. I moved towards the cupboard of mugs, reaching for the cup that had many wildflowers scattered on the outside. Without really paying attention to it, I had chosen a mug that had become my regular cup at the house.

While the warm tea sat on the table, steeping, I heard Ayato coming back down the stairs.

"Here's some of my clothes so you can change into something that's not wet. I would've grabbed some of Ayaka or Thoma's, but I don’t exactly want to snoop around their rooms while they're not home... Oh, and the laptop, but we'll get to that later. I'll take your clothes and throw them in the laundry once you're done," Ayato walked me to the bathroom while handing me a pile of clothes. His clothes.

On the top of the stack was a tan knitted sweater and on the bottom a pair of black sweatpants. I wasn't sure how I felt about wearing his clothes. I'd borrowed jackets before, but it was nothing like this, and it made my heart beat a little faster. Even if it was something that realistically didn't mean that much. I let out a deep sigh as I changed, admitting the fact that even if it gave me butterflies, I couldn't stay in wet clothes either.

Ayato was already beside me the second I left the bathroom. "There's some pastries on the table, I ordered them from the Café about an hour ago. Enjoy them with your tea while I'm gone," he smiled with warmth, filling his entire face with emotions I didn't often see from him. "Thank you, it means a lot. Here's the clothes," I sheepishly smiled in return as I handed him the moist clothes I had just changed out of.

Instead of only sitting and snacking while I waited, I decided to scroll through the file that was sitting open on Ayato's laptop after noticing it was my photobook. He wouldn't mind me taking an early peek, right? But still, I was shocked looking at the amount of work he'd done. Of course, I was there to sort out the photos with him and to make design choices, but seeing it all laid out was mesmerizing.

"I see you got ahead of yourself. I can't believe I lost my chance to explain it all to you," Ayato frowned as he returned. "How did you manage all of this? We're about to hit the next step, aren't we?" I furrowed my eyebrows in shocked amazement.

"That's the smart [Name] I know. We're nearly ready for the first printout draft. I called you over here for the final pieces of the photobook making puzzle."

"Which would be?"

"Acknowledgments and the like. Everything that I left empty for your wonderful expertise."

"You want me to write an acknowledgments page?" Ayato's eyes were staring straight back at me as I spoke, but for some reason, he often looked slightly behind me. As if he was avoiding my direct gaze. My hands fell down to the sleeves of my sweater, his sweater, playing with a loose string down at my wrist.

"And a page about you. How else would you spread your name and charm?" The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, exactly like before. "Of course, I'm expecting you to mention me somewhere."

"You act like that's just a joke, but you know it was already a given. Let me get to typing, then." I paused for a second. "But there's a rule. You only get to see what I wrote after we print out the first draft."

"I want to ask why, but I know it's likely I won't get an answer, at least not until we're printing and putting it together. I'll keep my questions to myself." Ayato laughed in response to my rule. I wasn't sure myself where the idea came from, but it felt right, so I was going to do it. He showed me the pages where I needed to fill in certain things or write descriptions, which ended up working us until the afternoon. The sun was shining through the windows, no longer giving off the pitter patter sound from the rain a few hours ago. My cup of tea was long empty, as was the plate of pastries and the cup Ayato got for himself shortly after we started to work on the photobook.

But it was not only that. The acknowledgments page was filled in, too.

>>>

"That's it. That's the last part we needed, isn't it?" The satisfaction and excitement quickly took root in my heart. "Seeing as I just checked it off, yes. Let me set it up to print, and we can put it together afterward. Unfortunately, right now, it'll be more like a spiral booklet than anything."

I let Ayato take over the laptop for a while as he clicked away at the screen, linking it to his printer in the living room and formatting it. It wasn't too long before he pressed the big print button, and I nearly felt my heart shoot up into the sky. That was it. It was final, the first draft, but final nonetheless, and soon enough, I could release it to the world. "Thank you so much, Yato!" I hopped up from the chair I was stagnant in for hours before now. Both of us were up, ready to head to the printer. But before we could make it two steps forward, and before I even realized what I was doing, my arms were wrapped tightly around Ayato's torso.

I was squeezing him with a secure hug, and that's apparently what my body found to be the best way to say thank you. "You're welcome, even though you have all the skill here... However, what is..." He trailed off as I looked away from him. My hands wouldn't move. The rest of my body felt frozen, too.

Suddenly, the awkward situation turned into melting as Ayato returned the hug, his arms around me like a soft blanket. "I'm sorry." I spoke up. I didn't know exactly why I was apologizing, but in the moment, it felt right.

"Don't be... This is comforting." Ayato’s voice was nearly a whisper, but with our proximity, I heard it clear as day. "But it must be so awkward, with the way our relationship is and... Well, things aren't as casual as they were before..." I felt my words drifting away from me the more I spoke. Just a minute ago, we were chatting like normal and finishing the photobook, but now it felt like I had been in Ayato’s embrace for hours, and I wasn't fully sure how we got here.

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still patiently waiting for your response, but thank you for letting me relish in this moment. Even if it was an accident."

There was a pang in my heart that I couldn't fully explain. All I knew was that I didn't really want this to be an accident, nor did I want it to end.

>>>

The photobook was nearly forgotten as every single page had already been sitting, losing its heat by the second. On the top of the stack was a page that read "acknowledgments." Underneath it, a paragraph.

'I want to give my greatest thanks to Kamisato Ayato. He is the only reason I'm taking this step forward, and the only reason this photobook is manifesting into reality. Without Ayato, I would probably still be sitting in classroom after classroom, questioning whether the path I'm taking is even the right one for me. Now, I can truly believe it when I say it is. This is what I'm meant to do, and Ayato is the reason why.'

— no way act 2 is over... NO WAYY... i was so giggling and kicking my feet writing this chapter and i was constantly reminded just how much i love ayato WJSHJEJE i feel like i should have more to say, but surprisingly i don't. final act, here we go!!

— taglist; @griseoo @fangygf @calamitygutz @driftwoodmanor @meigalaxy @kyon-cherri @xiaossocksniffer @quacking-simp @kaitfae @imgayandshesanime @lxry-chxn @ni-ki-ismyluv @cante-lope @kookiibun @kamisatoyato @astolary @dontmindtheevie @sn1perz @0range-juiceee @h3xi2g0n3 @eutopiastar @samyayaya

[harpersdragons]

New Fic!

Title: “Emergency”? FUCK

Fandom: Batman

relationships: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd

tags: chronic pain, hurt/comfort, Jason Todd is a dumbass

Summary: my vent fic bc chronic pain sucks ass. So I gave it to Jason and his family convinces him to accept help

Gotham is trying to kill him. 

Well, in a different way than usual.

This time it’s not brightly colored villains with stupid fuckin’ themes.

Or supposedly well-meaning, but nosy as fuck family members.

Or any other physical means of actually taking his life.

Nope.

It’s the fuckin’ weather.

Stupid fucking changing seasons and rain.

And the new armor Bruce made for him, lacking the extra padding his has.

Surprise, death and resurrection doesn’t agree with him. 

The chiming of his phone interrupts his wallowing. He groans, and stiffly rolls over to grab it, although the action dislodges the heating pad spread under him. 

He coulda sworn he’d turned his phone on silent, and after checking, it shows he did. Which means the ringing was coming from his Bat phone.

/Fuck/. 

Not today, he can’t deal with them today.

He grabs the other phone, and barely refrains from tossing it across the room when he reads the message.

/Emergency. Report to the cave immediately./ 

Pain lances through him as he levers himself up to sitting position. He moves slowly, trying to minimize sharp motions that would only make the pain worse, but that only helps slightly.

At least his armor has extra support built in, made to press on certain pressure points and dull some of the pain.

He pulled on his armor painstakingly slowly, ignoring the other suit in its case. That one was why he was in the middle of one of his worst flare ups in months. Bruce had ordered it made after noticing his current one was getting worn down, but it didn’t have the extra support in it, Jason wore it 3 days in a row and now he’s suffering for it.

It’s not Bruce’s fault—for once—since Jason had never told any of them about this. Which was yet another reason he doesn’t want to go to the cave today.

He doesn’t have the capacity to hide how much pain he’s in, and their stupid nosy, detective asses will figure it out. 

But he can’t ignore an emergency call to the cave. 

Pain radiates through his legs with every step, and the goddamn stairs are his worst enemy. 

Regardless, he makes it to the cave.

…eventually and with a lot of stifling grimaces.

He promptly decides he’d like to be anywhere but here. 

Well, preferably in his bed with heating pads and soft blankets, but the point stands. 

Fuckin’ Bruce had to call him here for an ‘emergency’. 

Fuck that. 

When he walks into the cave—forcing himself not to limp, might he add—the only people he sees are Dick and Damian, and he almost turns around leaves immediately.

“Jaybird!” Dick chirps.

Jason groans, he is so not in the mood to deal with Dick. 

“Father is upstairs, he wants to speak with you.” Damian calls out from his position on the med bay cot.

“Is this not a bat emergency? Why /the fuck/ did he call me in the work line? Also, the fuck happened to you?”

Damian’s face screwed up in displeasure, and Dick jumped in to answer. “Someone thought it would be an amazing idea to take on Croc by himself.” He shoots a pointed look at Damian. “Broken ribs and possible concussion, but he’ll be fine. B texted the Batphone because you weren’t answering your regular phone.”

“Oh so he made up an emergency just because I wasn’t answering my texts? Fuck this. I’m going home.” Something clouds Dick’s face—Sadness or disappointment, maybe?—but Jason can’t be bothered with that right now.

“Wait! It is, kind of, an emergency. Just not a vigilante one. He’s dealing with something upstairs, but he’ll be down soon. Why don’t we spar in the meantime?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

/No/. He can’t spar Dick, he can barely fuckin’ move without wanting to scream.

“No.” 

“C’mon, Jay! It’ll be fun! We haven’t sparred together in a while.”

“Not today, Dickhead.”

“Jayyyyyyyy.”

This isn’t gonna go well.

“Fine, one round.”

“Yes!”

They head over to the mats, and Dick gestures at Jason’s armor. “Wanna change out of that?”

“I’m good.” No way in hell is he sparring without his armor, if he tries he might collapse.

“C’mon, scared I’ll hit you too hard? Fight me on equal terms.”

“We both know it’s still not equal terms, I can beat you any day, /Boy Wonder/.”

Jason sheds his armor, gritting his teeth as he does. 

Why is he fuckin’ doing this?

Jason’s gonna regret this. His last piece of armor hits the ground, and Jason steps on the mats. 

“Weapons?”

Dick tosses him two rattan Kali sticks in response, and then grabs two for himself. 

Jason exhales slowly, preparing himself for the eventuality of exacerbating his pain.

”Ready?” Dick shoots Jason a wide grin, bouncing eagerly on his toes.

Jason nods sharply, tapping Dick’s sticks with his own. 

The second Jason is in ready position, Dick is lunging forward. Jason ducks, swinging at Dick’s knees.

Dick jumps, and the fight picks up. 

The ringing of their sticks hitting each other resounds through the cave.

Jason is gritting his teeth against the ache radiating through his body, made sharper with every clash of the Kali sticks. 

Dick lands a sharp hit on Jason’s ribs. Jason jumps back, but not fast enough. 

Jason kicks at Dick’s chest. Dick retaliates with his own, aimed at Jason’s hips. 

Jason steps forward, sticks aimed at Dick’s own ribs, and then tosses his elbow back into Dick’s face. 

They trade blows for a while.

Blocking, evading, and attacking.

The fight stretches on, a flurry of movement and the clashing of the sticks. Fatigue weighs on Jason, pain lances through him—sharper and sharper with every movement.

Dick lands a sharp kick on Jason’s hip, and Jason collapses with a stifled scream.

His hip was one of his weakest points, the crowbar had shattered it, and there was only so much the Lazarus pit could repair.

Dick hits his knees next to Jason, “Jase? What’s wrong?”

Damian comes over as well, leaving the med cot from which he’d been watching.

Jason just groans, twisting awkwardly to try and get away. Dick stops him with hands on his shoulder, “Stay still, Jaybird, we don’t know if it’s safe to move yet.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“I fuckin’ do, and if you don’t get your fuckin’ hands off me, you’re gonna lose them.” Jason ground out. It’s an empty threat and they all know it. Jason couldn’t do shit right now.

He weakly shoves at Dick’s hands until they move, and Jason shoves himself up. He vaguely hears Dick telling Damian to call Bruce, but he’s not listening. He stumbles forward, nearly smacking his head on the wall in front of him. 

“Jay!” Dick rushes over again, trying to steady him. “Settle down, ok? We can wait in the med bay.” 

“Fuck off,” Jason grits his teeth. His leg still isn’t steady—well, even less steady than it was to begin with.

”Jace, please.” 

Jason glares, and limps past him to the pile of armor just beyond the training mats. He starts putting it back on, getting ready to leave.

Just as he starts stalking (limping very slowly) to his bike, Bruce stops him with a hand on his elbow. 

“I can’t let you leave, Jason.”

He’s dimly aware of Dick guiding Damian upstairs. 

”Oh yeah? Fuckin’ watch me.”  He shoves Bruce’s hand off and makes it all 3 steps before Bruce stops him again. This time, Bruce just scoops him up in a fireman’s carry—and boy if that doesn’t make his whole body just /scream/—and carries him to the med bay.  “Fuck you, Old Man.” He growls.

Bruce sets him as gently as possible on the cot. 

“Will you just cooperate, please? We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

”Maybe I don’t want your help.” Jason crosses his arms, then immediately regrets it when it twists his wrists in a weird way.

”Jason, please.”

”Why the fuck did you call me here.”

”I needed you to look after your siblings for a few days while I fly out on a business trip. Dick is needed in Bludhaven, Damian’s injured, and I don’t fully trust them alone together. Alfred is on a very rare vacation.”

”Fuck no. I was comfortable in bed, and you called me out here for a stupid ass reason.” Jason moves to hop off the cot. “I’m going home. You wanna stop me? You’re gonna have to fight.” Jason knows he wouldn’t win in that situation, but he’s banking on Bruce refusing to fight him while he’s ‘injured’.

Jason’s not injured. He’s just in pain.

…There’s a difference.

”I’m not fighting you, you can barely walk without limping.”

”Then I’m leaving.”

”No.”

”Fuckin’ stop me then.”

Bruce grabs him around the waist and pushes him back on the cot. Jason is powerless to stop him.

”Jason…”

”Fine! If I promise it’s not a big deal and this just happens sometimes will you let me go?”

”No.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

”Tell me what’s wrong.”

”It’s not a big deal.”

”Tell me anyway.”

Jason glares defiantly, but Bruce just waits.

”Fine. I have chronic pain, both from being a vigilante since before my bones and joints were fully developed and the whole, y’know, crowbar broke almost every bone in my body thing.” Jason is not pouting. At all. He’s not at all affected by the fact his family knows how much he struggles now, which is exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

Bruce’s brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to speak.

Before he does, Jason rushes to speak first. “C’mon, you can’t tell me none of you experience chronic pain. You and Dickhead have been vigilantes longer than I have.” 

“Of course we do, but this seems incapacitating for you.”

Jason shrugs, “Only during flare ups. Usually it’s manageable.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

Jason nods but doesn’t elaborate.

”Are you going to tell me?”

”Are you gonna let me leave?”

”Jason…”

Jason stubbornly crosses his arms again and leans against the wall. The position makes his back spike with pain, but the only way to fix that is to lay down on the hard cot, and like hell is he putting himself in a more vulnerable position. 

Besides, he’s not entirely sure he could sit back up if he does. He used most of his energy getting up after he collapsed during sparring.

That was embarrassing.

Bruce is clearly thinking over what’s happened in the last couple days, trying to figure out what Jason’s not telling him. 

Normally he would have told Bruce, just to see the guilt spiral when he realizes it was something he did, but Jason really doesn’t have the energy to deal with mopey Bruce. Or Hyperfixated Bruce who has to fix the problem and won’t sleep or eat until he does. 

Alfred’s the only one that can effectively pull Bruce from either spiral. 

“The new armor…?” Bruce trails off with a questioning glance at him. ”That’s the only thing I can think of that was different, unless something else happened that you’re not telling me. But why would that cause a flare up?”

Jason sighs heavily, “My armor has a lot of extra support in it. I designed it specifically so it would brace my joints and help manage pain.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

”Because it’s my problem! You shouldn’t have to accommodate me.” 

“Jay…regardless, that’s something I should know. If not for the fact I am your father, I am also the leader of this team. I can’t make sure you're safe in the field if you don’t tell me you need accommodations.” Bruce sighs again, “Is there anything I can do that will help? I’m not comfortable with you going home alone when it’s this bad.”

Jason pouts but gives in. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to get up and go all the way back to his apartment in Crime Alley. “Heating pads are the only thing that really help.”

“Ok. You want to go upstairs or stay down here?”

“Upstairs, I need a real bed.” He pushes himself off the wall, gritting his teeth against sharp pain.

Bruce grabs his elbow and helps him off the bed and over to the elevator. He tugs Jason into his side, “You’re not alone, Jason, you don’t have to hide things like this.”

When they get upstairs—they took the elevator all the way to the second floor—Bruce leads them to his room. Jason hesitates for a second. 

“If it makes you uncomfortable I can set you up in one of the other rooms. My bed has the best mattress.”

Jason nods, and limps the rest of the way into the room. Bruce grabs several heating pads—apparently they were conveniently located in Bruce’s bathroom—and starts plugging them in and setting up. He gets Jason situated on the bed, rearranging the pillows for more support, then steps back “You good? I’m going to grab water and snacks from the kitchen and then I’ll be back.”

Jason settles against the heat pads, wanting to sigh in relief. Finally, some of the pain is dulled. His eyes close and he loses all track of time.

Soon, Bruce comes back in and Jason cracks an eye open. Ace follows Bruce in, and after the man sets the tray of snacks on the nightstand, he signals Ace to jump up. Bruce slides in next to him, holding Jason the best he can without dislodging the heating pads or pillow mountain. 

“What ‘bout your trip?” Jason murmurs. 

“It doesn’t matter, I can go another time. You’re not alone, Jaylad, I love you.” Bruce whispers against his hair, and Jason lets himself drift off.

“Love you too,” Jason’s words come out slurred and muffled, but Bruce clearly hears him and acknowledges him with a soft squeeze.

He’s floating somewhere between sleep and awake when he becomes aware of his other brothers joining them. Dick is talking quietly with Bruce above his head, but Jason can’t focus enough to decipher the words.

Everyone settles in, and Jason finally falls asleep.

He’s safe, surrounded by his family.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🧑‍⚕️ for Chris! Cookie treat:

🍪

CW: BBU, sickfic, ableism from Luke Petrus, general Luke Petrus warning, minor whump (OC is 17), brief implied noncon references

-

"What the heck did you do now, Petrus?" The doctor - barely out of med school, still young and learning the twists and turns of the Facility's labyrinth of hallways - sighs. He's been here barely a year, and already learned that Luke Petrus has a reputation for quick turnarounds because he runs his trainees into the ground. Metaphorically speaking.

His trainees aren't generally allowed to actually run much of anywhere at all. Or get out of bed.

Petrus rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "Nothing. He was being a little shit this morning, breaking all his rules. I checked and his forehead was hot, so I brought him in here."

"Well... at least you didn't OD him again."

"That was one time, and he should have been fine, it's not my fault his body metabolizes the drugs wrong-"

"Maybe don't use our freaking supplies without speaking to a doctor first to make sure next time?" Dr. Ross glances into the exam through through the window cut into the door.

The trainee lays on his back on the exam table, staring listlessly up towards the flickering florescent lights overhead. His hands are moving, constantly crushing the crinkling paper beneath him or touching himself at the throat, the collarbone, the stomach. He's humming, audible through the door. A toneless, tuneless ah ah ah ah through barely open lips.

"Okay, well. I'll take a look. Any specific complaints other than the fever?"

"Clammy as fuck, coughing, sneezing... all that shit. Complained about his food, earlier, and I know he knows better than that." Petrus narrows his eyes, and Dr. Ross tries not to feel a shiver down his own spine. "He better be burning hot enough to hallucinate or he is going to fucking regret talking shit to me about the food."

Dr. Ross pauses. "The food is pretty legendarily... um, crap, though," He points out. The look Petrus gives him is so derisive he can all but feel it eat into him like acid. "I'll take a look. Probably he'll need an overnight in the clinic."

"I only have a few weeks left to finish him up. So you get him able to take training tomorrow night, got it?"

"I can't promise-"

"This one is going to a personal friend of Karen Renford's," Petrus says in a low voice. "A personal. friend. Got it?"

Dr. Ross swallows, trying not to look unnerved. "Got it."

"Good. Message me once he's good to go back, I'm going to head home for a few hours. If he's faking this..."

"Handler Petrus. How exactly would he fake a fever?" Dr. Ross looks into the exam room again. The trainee is still humming, watching his own fingers as he moves them between himself and the light. His skin is pale, a little grayish. His freckles stand out like paint splatters all over his body.

"Wouldn't put it past him. Trainees figure out all kinds of shit. Get him better and get him to stop doing that... Shit with his hands, making those noises. Punish him if he keeps it up, it's part of his training plan."

"Hm," Dr. Ross says, noncommittal. "I'll send his test results over in a bit. Enjoy your time at home."

He steps inside just to end the conversation, walking idly over to a countertop, where he opens a cupboard above and pulls out a small canister of lollipops. "Hello, 223499."

The boy's voice cuts off like a radio. After a pause, he starts mumbling, too low for Dr. Ross to hear.

"... right. Well. Your handler says you're feeling under the weather. Mind if I take a look?"

The trainee turns his head then. He looks somewhere off to one side of the doctor, blinking a little dazedly. "... take a look?"

His voice is slow, sluggish, but each word is so carefully placed.

"Yes."

The trainee looks away again. Dr. Ross sighs and goes with it, checking his temperature. 101.7, not great, not the worst fever. Hopefully this won't be another flu like the last one. Pneumonia nearly killed three trainees that time. He checked ears, eyes - pupils reactive, ears clear - and then touched at the lymph nodes beneath his jaw. A little swollen.

"Okay. Next up, we need to take a quick look down your throat."

Another slow blink. The trainee seemed to suddenly tense up. "You... want my throat?"

"Uh, well-" Dr. Ross turns away to pick up a tongue depressor and the swab for the test. "Yes, we need to test you."

The paper on the exam table crinkles again. The boy hums, almost wistfully, and then goes silent.

When he turns around, Dr. Ross discovers the boy on his knees in a seamless Position Two, mouth wide open.

His green eyes are empty, somewhere far away.

Dr. Ross's face burns at the sight. His stomach turns sharply, and he has to clear his throat to try and cover the way bile rises. "Uh, n-no thank you-... I just need... you need to be tested for strep throat, Trainee, not that kind of-... back up on the table, please-"

The boy looks confused, in a faded sort of way, but follows orders. He manages to clamber back up, sitting this time, listing a little to one side, then the other. But he opens his mouth again, and Dr. Ross hurries through the test as fast as he can, trying not to think about how most people gag during the strep test, but the Romantics never do.

"Good, made it. Perfect. Now, does your throat hurt a lot today?"

"Yes, sir." The boy's voice is a little raspy, now that he's talking. "A... lot. Earlier, i... cried when my... handler-"

"Don't need to hear the end of that sentence!" Dr. Ross forces false charm and ease into his voice, plucking one of the lollipops at random from the jar. "Here, let me give you this. It tastes a little weird, but it'll numb your throat and keep you from coughing." He unwraps it and holds it out. The trainee blinks at him. He blinks back.

Then he realizes. "... oh. Do you have to be... do I have to..." He leans forward. The trainee opens his mouth obediently for Dr. Ross to place the lollipop inside. Only then does his mouth close.

"'ank 'oo, ir," The trainee says around a mouthful of fake sweetener and the numbing agent already going to work. His eyes are so sweet and so vivid, and he half-smiles around the treat.

"You're welcome, 223499. I'm going to go and do your strep test. I'll be back. You just relax, okay? You can sleep in a clinic bed and get a good night's sleep."

The boy's eyebrows furrow. "Is... is it night?"

"Oh right. We're not supposed to let you know, are we? Well... I don't think it can hurt... yeah, I'm on nights right now, 11 to 9. It's about one in the morning."

"Oh." The trainee lays slowly back down, on his side, closing his eyes as he works at the sucker. "... what, what does night... look, um, look like?"

Dr. Ross swallows.

He's a fucking coward, but he doesn't answer. He just leaves, and he doesn't let himself stop and look back.

He doesn't let himself think about a boy who can't remember the sky.

God, he only has a few weeks left on this residency and he just isn't sure he can make it.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Two Hours - Chapter 1 - Shigaraki x Reader

***

Maybe, just maybe, some things might be worth waiting for.

***

Two hours.

He was late by a full two hours. Meaning 120 minutes, 2700 seconds, 7200000 precious milliseconds wasted of your life. You'd know, you counted.

You glared at the library clock again, as if it was its fault you had been stood up. Disgruntledly, you pushed back your chair, getting up to put your laptop and revision materials back in your bag. It was the last time you'd try and help a stranger because clearly, strangers sucked.

You had done tutoring for different classes since your second year in college. Literature, philosophy, anthropology, history- name it, you could teach it. And you loved doing it like few other things made you happy. Was there anything as wonderful as showing others the beauty of human nature, its creativity, its passion, its sincerity?

"Sincerity my ass," you thought, angrily shoving your backpack on one shoulder. It clunked loudly as it bumped against a wooden shelf, and the librarian threw you a dirty look from the other side of the room. Part of you felt bad; you had spent a while trying to cultivate a good relationship with the older man, since you spent most of your free time in the library. But the rest of you, which was to say almost all of you, didn't care, because you were unbelievably frustrated.

You had had students give you tons of excuses before: they were sick, their mom was sick, their neighbors' dog was sick, and they just had to skip the tutoring session. You didn't mind that; they'd always text at least an hour in advance, and you'd have the time to read their message and go home with a smile, instead of walking all the way to the library. 

But today's guy was different. You knew he had your number and your email address: it was part of the tutoring agreement you had both signed online. And yet he hadn't had the decency, the respect, to send a single message to tell you he couldn't come to the two-hour appointment he himself scheduled. And now, you had just wasted two hours, excitedly waiting to expose the wonders of literature to a guy who couldn't even bother to text you "can't come". 

You gave the librarian a half-hearted nod of apology and headed toward the big glass doors at the front of the building. The weather looked moody outside, the sky grey and heavy like rain could start pouring at any moment. You didn't need to check your bag to know you didn't pack an umbrella. It was clear this was one of the days.

Sighing, you opened the heavy door to walk out at the same moment a man pushed to get in. You tucked your body to the side to keep the door open for him, but he flatly ignored the gesture, walking past you without uttering a "thank you".

"Yup," you thought, "strangers suck."

Before you could take more than a few steps outside, a droplet of water fell right on top of your nose, stopping you in your tracks. And then another, and another, and in a flash, the area was getting flooded, puddles already forming around on the dark asphalt. You couldn't help as another sigh escaped you, bracing for the impact of the freezing rain as you took a step forward into the tempest.

Then, something grabbed you by the shoulder.

You yelped in surprise and turned around, fists instinctively bunching up to your chest to protect yourself, heart racing. It took you a few seconds to recognize the rude guy who had just passed you on his way in.

He was tall, taller than you had first realized. His oversized hoodie made it hard to gauge his frame, the visibly worn-out fabric stretched shapelessly around his torso. Your eyes looked up for a face you couldn't find: the black hood fully obscured his features, and for a second, images of killers in horror movies alarmingly flashed through your mind.

You shoved yourself out of his grip and took a step back, eyes wide. He nonchalantly placed his hand back in his pocket, an unimpressed glare staring right back at you. His eyes were red, bright red.

"You're the tutor, right?"

You looked at the ominous figure incredulously.

"What ?"

"You're the tutor, right ?" he repeated in a low, raspy tone. He sounded annoyed.

You kept staring at him, wondering if he was speaking in a foreign language you had never heard of.

Then, his words started registering.

"Tomura..." you started uncertainly, the math adding up in your head as you remembered the name on the little manilla folder you had prepared for today, "Shigaraki ?"

A small smile etched itself onto the man's face, and you noticed how cracked his lips were, a faded scar going through the dried skin. Strands of slightly greasy hair, white as snow, rebelliously escaped the black hood, and for a second you caught another glimpse of his crimson eyes. But they disappeared back under the shadow of the fabric, and you realized your body had tensed like a rock.

"I'm the guy," he said nonchalantly, the hand you had pushed away going up to his neck and mindlessly scratching the skin there. There were marks there, some old, and others so fresh they looked like they were bleeding. Anxiously, you wondered if instead of a killer, you had stumbled on an addict.

"Hey, so when do we go get a seat inside? It's fucking cold out here," he added, gesturing lazily towards the library.

You kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

He hadn't possibly said what you thought he had just said. No one was so impossibly clueless and self-centered that they would come two hours late to a meeting and act like they were the one who was being bothered. But the cold rain falling down your face made it aboundedly clear: this was real.

"No," you finally said, enunciating the word slowly.

He looked as confused as you first did, the smug, composed look on his face instantly falling. He didn't look like he was told "no" often, and you felt the flame of anger start to burn inside you.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no," you replied drily, feeling confidence coursing back through your body. There was no doubt in your mind you already looked like a drowned rat from the rain, and that your waterproof mascara was starting to reach its limits. But you weren't about to be scared of some loser trying to look tough with a crusty hoodie and unwashed hair.

"You came two hours late for the tutoring, which lasts two hours. My work slot with you is from four to six, and it's exactly," you snapped, bringing your phone up to his face, "Ten past six, so my work here is done."

He stared at your phone in incomprehension, then back at you, irritation slowly settling on his pale features. His thin brows frowned, and you noticed another scar marring his right eyelid the piercing crimson stare bore into you. Maybe he was some kind of gang member, and if so, was it a good idea to mouth off to him?

"Look, I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I'm paying to have a tutor," he snarled drily. "That's not fair."

You had to wonder if you were even talking to an adult. So maybe he was a killer, or an addict, or a gang member, and he would end up stabbing you for it, but by God, were you going to put that guy back in place.

"Well, tough luck, buddy," you almost spat out, your usually level-headed patience entirely fizzled out, "it wasn't fair to make me wait two hours and then expect me to have nothing other to do in my life than tutoring your sorry ass. But life isn't fair, is it ?"

You turned around, throwing the man one last angry look: "If you want tutoring, then be there next week. On time."

You felt oddly proud of yourself as you walked away, leaving him wet and alone in the rain. And if you were slightly trembling at the feeling of the crimson stare boring through you all the way down the library path, well, you just had to pray he didn't notice it.

---

"Huh," you noted with both surprise and apprehension, "you're here."

And indeed, there he was, slumped in one of the library's chairs, the stranger you were certain wouldn't come to your meeting this week: Tomura Shigaraki.

You had spent a few days feeling bad about the way you had handled things; yes, he had been incredibly late and entitled, but you never gave him any time to explain himself for it all. Maybe he did have a good reason, and maybe he had only acted so entitled because he was having an especially rough day.

One look at the condescending glare he threw you was enough to confirm that wasn't the case.

"Yeah, I'm here," he muttered, looking away, his right hand still ripping away at his neck like the last time you had seen him. You couldn't help but wonder about the gesture, the practiced way his fingers would visibly carve into the skin. Allergies? Eczema?

His vermillion eyes never left your figure as you put your bag down and awkwardly sat across from him, looking down at the carpeted floors. 

"Why are you that surprised ?" he added flatly, "I told you, I'm paying for this shit."

You weren't a confrontational person; or at least, you did your best to avoid confrontation. But you'd been tired last week, and his whole little disrespectful charade had pushed you over the edge. You weren't sure you were up to deal with it again.

Your lack of response seemed to irritate him; he picked up a small handheld console from his lap, immediately busying himself in a game like your presence held no meaning to him.

You took a small breath, not wanting your temper to rise again; if you wanted this to work, you'd need to be the first to give the olive branch. You put on a nice, professional smile: "Let's put everything to the side for a moment, start over. Maybe we could both introduce ourselves again ?"

His thumbs toyed with the joysticks on his handheld, disinterest palpable."Why? I know who you are."

You could have strangled him.

"Nevermind," you smiled so forcefully it hurt your cheeks. "So, you're here for Lit 3250, Absurdism in Literature. That's a fun class."

"I'm only taking it because I have to," he grumbled. "I'm in computer programming. They make us take a class in the humanities department because the education system is fucked."

You raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised: "They're making you do literature in computer science ?"

He shrugged, his eyes going back to the game on the small screen with obvious boredom.

"Told you. The system is fucked."

You pulled out the little manilla file you had prepared for him from your bag, spreading a few documents on the table between the two of you. For a second, you could have sworn his bored expression flickered into something new, but it was gone before you could register it.

"Well, I might not be able to do much about that, but I can try and make the class easier," you smiled a little more genuinely this time as he put his handheld to the side to look at the papers you had slid in front of him.

To your complete astonishment, as you guided him through the material, the man listened, never once taking notes, yet able to answer any question you threw his way in the shortest, most concise way possible. He seemingly absorbed the information while looking wholeheartedly disinterested, like remembering the words was barely any more work than eating or breathing. You had to wonder if the programmer in him coded the sentences in his mind, imputing every word as little lines of binary code, or if he was just this naturally, annoyingly smart.

"Alright, that's it for today," you concluded, noticing you had gone over the material you had planned for two sessions in just the last two hours. "I didn't take you for the kind of guy to listen to a tutor, but you've done a really good job today."

You gave him an honest smile, hoping to finally mend the bridge from last weekend's incident. Instead, he promptly looked away, lips tightening into a thin line.

"S' just cause I need to pass the class to get my diploma. I don't really give a shit about any of this stuff."

If he saw your face fall at that, he didn't show it. He grabbed his handheld and shoved it in his front pocket, promptly throwing his ragged backpack over his shoulder, as if the last thing he wanted was to stay here a minute longer with you.

"I'll see you next week, then," you hesitantly said, more a question than a statement. He didn't look back at you when he spoke with a grunt, already making his way out.

"Whatever."

---

"So Camus' thing is society is fucked, and as soon as you realize it you gotta kill yourself, right ?"

"Basically !" you beamed excitedly, circling a paragraph in the text facing him with the tip of your finger. "It's the idea that when you understand your role as just a cog in the machine in a mindless daily life, you have to either ignore it to rejoin society, or leave society altogether." 

A small smile danced on Shigaraki's chapped lips, as smug and mocking as all his smiles were. You sometimes wondered if his face could ever express pure, genuine happiness, or if it was perpetually stuck with that self-satisfied expression. 

"Yeah, I can get behind that."

It fit him, in a strange way. And he had every reason to be pompous: in three weeks, you had both gone through double the material you had planned for his first sessions, as be blasted each lesson like a simple tutorial fight in one of the many video games you'd catch him play before each lesson.

"Me too, actually," you agreed.

He looked at you disbelievingly: "You? Feeling like you're not a part of society? Give me a break, you're a tutor in university, there's probably a normie award for that."

"Well, even us normies are really just always doing the same thing, aren't we ?" you explained, laying your chin against your hand pensively. "Take the two of us. We always meet here at four o'clock on Wednesdays, at the same library, at the same table. We don't go through the motions because we want to, we do it because we have to, and that's what everyone expects from us. Kinda makes you want to quit society too, doesn't it ?"

For a moment, he said nothing. There was something unsettling in the way his ruby eyes bore into you, like he was judging your very soul. You felt your cheeks unwillingly redden after a few seconds under his piercing stare, looking away in slight embarrassment. If a few weeks spent with him were enough to convince you he wasn't a serial killer, you still found yourself troubled whenever he'd look at you too long.

He finally seemed satisfied with whatever he found looking into you, eyes mercifully leaving your face before settling on something on the table.

"That's a Plus Ultra sticker," he commented flatly.

You followed his gaze to your cellphone, face down, the small video game logo barely visible on the cover. How had he even noticed it? 

It wasn't that you were ashamed of gaming in your free time, but you knew for a fact the entire literature department bore a clear disdain for any media not printed onto pages. They laughed off anything else as childish and a waste of time. Needless to say, you had never shared that passion with anyone on campus before that moment.

But damn, did you love Plus Ultra.

You couldn't help but grin excitedly at him: "Oh wow, you play too !"

"Sometimes," he shrugged with obviously fake disinterest, his crimson eyes brighter than you had ever seen them before."It's not the best game or anything, but it's alright. I feel like the whole hero fantasy trope is kinda overplayed."

He suddenly clammed up, like he had just remembered who he was talking to. The classic sour, haughty look you had gotten to know reappeared on his face.

"I just didn't know any girls played that game," he mumbled.

And there he was, the asshole you had met on that first rainy day. 

"Well," you replied drily, "I play, and I'm actually one of the top All Might players in the country."

His pale fingers tremored at that, the excited brightness that he was trying very hard to conceal back in his eyes. It was so childish it was almost endearing, in a way.

"Well, what a coincidence. I'm also a top All Might player, except I was in the world ranking, last time I checked," he bragged, nonchalantly picking at his fingernails. "Maybe I could teach you a thing or two later." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the implication of a "later", of a world where you would be together outside of the required tutoring time, seemed to dawn on him. He stammered wordlessly, red spreading like fire on his pale face. It was... a lot more endearing than you would have thought.

"F-forget it. That was stupid."

You couldn't help but soften at that. Maybe, underneath the dirty hoodie and the deadly glare, he was as timid and insecure as you felt he was. The lashing out, the quips, the bratty entitlement- were they all just a facade for a guy who genuinely didn't know how to interact with others?

 "Well," you hummed, "maybe after you're done with your midterms you could come over to my dorm for a match. There's a big communal TV you can pair consoles with."

The cold, detached mask was back, but it was much harder to believe with the pink coloring that reached the very tip of his ears.

"Yeah, maybe."

---

A month passed before you encountered your first hurdle in your tutoring work with Shigaraki, in the form of a "CLOSED" sign glaring back at you from the library's glass doors.

"Damn it," you mumbled, opening up your phone to find an unread message from the faculty announcing a temporary shutdown. Shigaraki, who had taken up the habit of coming on time for your sessions, looked incredibly pissed.

"So the fuckers think they can send one email and be done with it ?" he angrily snapped, kicking the library's plexiglas door so harshly it made you flinch. You took a mental note to never do anything to find yourself on the wrong side of that kick.

"Well, we can reschedule for tomorrow!" you chirped. Perhaps he'd appreciate you trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

The look he gave you could have turned you into dust.

"I'm already here. And I'm busy tomorrow. I have important things to do."

Briefly, you wondered if by important things he meant staying home and gaming. The college's main campus wasn't very large, and in the few years you had studied here, you had never caught a glimpse of him once. He had the kind of dim presence one could easily forget, but if you had passed him before, you would have known.

"I think the law building lets you take rooms for study sessions, " you proposed.

He sighed, voice raspy with irritation. "It's full of pretentious assholes," he replied drily, "and it's almost a thirty minutes walk from here."

"You're kind of a pretentious asshole yourself", you thought silently. It was clear he wasn't going to help or do anything that required too much effort on his part. When Shigaraki wanted to be annoying, he was really annoying.

"You got a better option ?" you mumbled, frustrated.

He looked down at his shoes, suddenly silent. "Ah ha", you thought victoriously, "didn't think so".

Then, words you could have never expected came out of his mouth: "Yeah. Come to my place."

You looked at him incredulously. He looked as surprised as you did, like he wasn't the one who had just talked.

"I live like ten minutes from here," he explained hurriedly, glaring down at the asphalt like it might melt and swallow him whole, "it'll take way less time."

It wasn't as if you didn't know the guy at all, but to say you knew him enough to go to his house, alone, was a stretch.

Although you had been able to shake off your initial fear of him, you still felt something dark and looming in the way he carried himself. For as easy as it was to read him when he was embarrassed or caught off guard, the calculating, sharp gaze he seemed to judge the world with still left you at a loss. Even more so right now, when it was directed at you.

"Ok," you eventually said before you could decide against it. What was the worst that could happen?

At first, you hadn't had much reason to worry; you walked along the main streets that cornered the campus, still filled with quite a few students going about their business. But then, he took you into a small alleyway. And then another, and another, and another, to the point where you couldn't recognize what part of the city you were even in. The buildings you passed had gotten older and older the more you walked, most of the ones surrounding you were now decrepit and abandoned. They loomed over you and Shigaraki, fully blocking the sun, a claustrophobic maze of old bricks and concrete.

You realized that you had drifted closer to Shigaraki unconsciously, your shoulder almost brushing against his. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away, the simple proximity of someone you at least relatively knew reassuring to your mind.

If Shigaraki noticed, he said nothing, his long, lanky legs moving forward without hesitation. You took a moment to discreetly observe the man, his features more detailed now that you stood next to him. The scarring was much worse than you had first realized. It spread from the small glimpses of his forehead you could see behind strands of shaggy white hair, to the start of his chest hidden by his black shirt. In some spots, the skin looked dry, old; in others, it was like it had been freshly ripped apart by sharp and uneven nails. You had found it worrying for yourself, at first, when you thought he was some kind of junkie; but now you found yourself worrying over how much the bruising hurt him.

His hand protectively grabbed his neck when he noticed your staring, thin eyebrows frowning in annoyance.

"Before you ask, yes, I've tried creams and ointment and all that shit the doctors send you to buy at the drugstore. It doesn't work. I know I'm ugly, you don't need to rub it in."

A pang of guilt hit your chest. You didn't think before honestly replying: "I don't think you're ugly."

He looked at you coldly, any trace of friendliness gone: "You think you're real smart playing with me, don't you?"

"No, I mean it, I don't think you're ugly!" you hurriedly exclaimed. "Just, ok, look."

You quickly pulled back the sleeve of your shirt, showing him the inside of your forearm with insistence. His eyes narrowed suspiciously: "What the hell am I supposed to look at?"

"A scar," you replied, showing him the thin pale line that crossed your skin. "I got it as a kid when I fell from a tree in kindergarten. Oh, and I also have this one!"

You tugged at your pants to reveal a darker webbed mark on your ankle, the skin smoothed by time: "That one is really stupid, I got it from wearing heels three sizes too small at my high school prom and falling down a flight of stairs. And I also have this other one-" 

"I get it !" he interrupted, frustrated. "Yeah, alright, you have some scars too, but it's not the same thing as me."

"I know it's not," you replied calmly. "I'm not trying to say it is. But... I don't think having scars makes me ugly. I think they show I've been through something, and I'm still here to tell the story. And I think you might have been through a lot, but you're still standing here with me. So... if you don't think my scars make me ugly, then you shouldn't think yours do."

 

He didn't reply, silently making his way forward. Had you made him feel angrier, or even embarrassed? In one last effort to get your point across, you added:

"I think they kind of make you like Eraserhead in Plus Ultra 3."

That made him stop right in his tracks.

"You...think I look like Eraserhead ?" he hesitantly asked.

You nodded, and his cheeks reddened slightly. He took a few seconds before letting out the next words:

"Don't laugh," he warned you, "or I'm leaving you here. You can just find your own way back or get murked in an alley for all I care."

You crossed your fingers, presenting them to him ceremoniously.

"I won't laugh. Promise."

"I actually decided to grow out my hair to look like him."

Cute.

That was the first word to come into your mind. Cute. 

You quickly chased the very strange and unwelcome thought away, in case Shigaraki interpreted your pause as a laugh. 

"Well," you replied, "when I was seventeen, I dyed my hair bright yellow to look like All Might. I think I definitely got the short end of the stick in the idea department. "

He laughed, honest to God laughed, a raspy and genuine sound that made something foreign in your chest tightened. You started laughing too, and soon, you were nothing but two giggling idiots in the absolute middle of nowhere.

"Guess you're not that smart after all, miss tutor," he commented with a smirk.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately chose against it. He continued walking without a word, and you followed him the rest of the way in companionable silence, never straying far from his side.

---

It was a bar.

Or rather, the remains of something that once was a bar. A dingy neon sign with the three-letter word hung precariously above the door, the large "B" flashing within an ounce of its life. The walls were covered in graffiti and grime, a suspiciously moldy smell seemingly emanating from the bricks themselves.

"You... live here?" you asked hesitantly as Shigaraki made his way towards the building with no hesitation.

"Yeah," he let out, head snapping back around and eyes narrowing defensively. "You have a problem with that?"

Yes, several, including the probability of being stabbed to death here and my remains being found in the back of a garbage truck.

"No, no problem," you said.

He answered that with a grunt. The small staircase that lead to the entrance creaked under his weight, and he pushed the front door open.

"Wait here," he commanded. It was clear the subject wasn't up for discussion, so you opted for nodding along. "I'll come get you when I'm done with something."

It was all starting to feel like a terrible idea. So what if he liked the same games you did and actually seemed to listen to you rant about literature? You barely knew anything else about him. 

You knew he felt lost in society and rejected by the world. You knew his whole face would become red as a tomato anytime he felt embarrassed or flustered. You knew he would bite his lip in concentration when he played on his handheld, and that his leg would bounce up and down like a puppy's tail every time he got close to winning. You knew his eyes were unlike any you had seen before.

But what did you really know?

"You lost ?"

You spun around so fast you stumbled on your own feet, almost falling straight onto the dirty pavement.

The man standing in front of you had sneaked by so silently you had never registered his presence, even with how close he had gotten. He seemed very amused at the way you backed away in fear, your eyes wide.

"No, no I'm fine, I'm- I'm waiting for a friend, actually," you managed to stammer out.

Somehow, he didn't look like he believed that at all.

He was the picture-perfect example of men your parents had told you to stay away from. His skin was covered in dark tattoos, their shapes incomprehensibly mingled with what appeared to be burn scars, seemingly spreading all over his body. In the dark, one could mistake him for a walking corpse, blue eyes glistening unnaturally in the middle of a patchwork face.

The man dragged his cigarette across his lips, letting a dark puff of smoke escape.

"What a friend, making you wait outside in the cold," he commented, the burnt and inked skin around his mouth moving in a manner you could only describe as uncanny. "Pretty stupid of you to hang out with people from here, princess. Lots of creeps in the area."

He moved closer, so close you could smell the tobacco off his breath, and the instinctive need to run coursed through your body.

"No need to be scared though," he let out with a smirk that screamed the absolute contrary. "I can stay with you for a while. Protect ya."

He was too close for you to run, now; if you tried, he could easily grab you with the large hand that was nonchalantly making its way toward your waist. 

"Dabi."

Your head spun towards the entrance at the same time as the man's did. Relief spread through your body at the sight of Shigaraki, standing in front of the door where he had left you. His crimson gaze, which usually never left your form alone for more than a few seconds, was not focused on you, but on the stranger, who looked back at you with an utterly flabbergasted expression. Whoever he was, Shigaraki wasn't happy to see him.

"That's your friend ?" the stranger snorted as he started laughing uncontrollably, like he had just heard the funniest joke in his life. "Holy shit, you're even dumber than I thought you were !"

Clearly, Shigaraki did not find that funny in the slightest. You had forgotten how cold his expression had been when you first met him, uncaring and eerie. This was that, but colder, angrier, like the ripples that started forming in the water as a devastating storm would approach.

"Dabi," he repeated, and his tone was dark, final. For the first time in weeks, you felt something akin to fear at the sight of him, even knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. Had he always looked so unnervingly intimidating?

"Ok, ok, she's all yours, boss," the man finally said as he backed away, dropping the butt of his cigarette before unceremoniously stomping it. "Didn't mean to touch the property."

Tomura silently walked towards you, a rigid, cold hand forcefully grabbing yours and pulling you towards him. He headed back in, fingers so tightly clutched against yours that it hurt, and you followed without protest. You threw one last look at the man he called Dabi, a look of pure amusement on his face.

"Property", he had said. 

The innards of the bar were much cozier than the outside view let on. It was relatively well kept, with a red counter with a few retro-style stools occupying the majority of the space, the leftover corner dedicated to an old leather couch facing a battered TV. With no windows on the walls, the only light came from a few yellowish neons hanging on the ceiling. The room was empty except for the well-dressed man behind the counter, who you could only assume was the bartender. He merely nodded at your arrival, his face obscured by a cloud of dark hair in the dim light, what you could discern of his body barely a shadow against the wall of bottles.

Shigaraki ignored him, pointedly dragging you to a door at the back, which lead to a small, dark corridor. He only stopped when he reached the last door, swiftly turning the rusty knob.

It wasn't difficult to understand it was his bedroom; the only light came from the double monitor screen connected to an impressive gaming PC. With the exception of a few shelves filled to the brim with trinkets and figurines, the walls were mostly bare, the white coat of paint discolored and yellowed. Visibly dirty clothes were pilled up in a corner, as if someone had hurriedly picked them up for the floor and tossed them there in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal them.

"Sit anywhere," he grumbled, looking away. "Or don't. Whatever."

He was even worse at hiding his blush than he was at hiding his clothes. You couldn't help but smile.

There were only two spots you could sit in the room: the expensive-looking gaming chair, which was clearly the most valuable item in the entire bar, or the messy one-person bed, which seemed to not have seen a washing machine in a while. The last thing you wanted was to anger Shigaraki after the encounter with the man outside, so sitting in his gaming chair seemed like a bad idea. You opted for the bed, praying to God the sheets naturally looked so patchy and discolored.

"W-what the fuck are you doing?" he sputtered immediately as you sat, eyes wide.

"Sitting," you replied simply.

"Not there! Are you stupid or something?" he audibly cringed. Damn it, you had made the wrong call. "Just sit on the floor. It's not dirty or anything, Kurogiri cleaned it recently."

You glanced doubtfully at the impressive amount of energy drinks and used tissues littering the room before lowering yourself down out of fear of seeming rude. Briefly, you wondered if Kurogiri was the man you saw mend to the bar. He looked nothing like Shigaraki, and referred to him far too politely to be family. He was too young to be his father either way. Was he both the bartender and the housekeeper?

"But why would Shigaraki have a housekeeper?", you wondered silently

"The guy outside, Dabi," you finally said. "He called you boss."

Shigaraki didn't even bother turning around to answer flatly: "And ?"

"Do you... own this place?"

"Something like that. Here."

He handed you a controller you immediately recognized, your hands automatically wrapping themselves around it just like with the one you had spent countless hours playing with at home. Shigaraki smirked slightly at the sight of you already being ready for combat.

"So, spill it out. What's your tragic backstory ?" you asked, leaning your back to the wall with a mischievous smile.

"What ?" he replied, seemingly caught off guard.

"C'mon," you pressed. "I've never seen you wear anything other than a black hoodie over a black shirt and black sweatpants. You're not subtle about it."

"I don't think you've unlocked that dialogue option yet," he retorted, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "How about you? What's your tragic backstory ?"

You chuckled: "What makes you think I have one?"

"You'd have to be a little fucked up to follow some guy you barely know into a shady bar in the middle of an abandoned factory district," he replied, raising an eyebrow, a wicked smile on his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at that; he was right. "Well, I don't think you've unlocked that yet either, Shigaraki."

"Just call me Tomura," he offered, a touch of resignation in his voice. Was he finally warming up to you? "Might as well if I'm stuck with you for the rest of the semester."

Maybe not. But something felt oddly nice about this, about him, and no matter how weird it all was, you couldn't help but let yourself bask in the strange feeling.

The computer let out a familiar little tune as the game booted up on the screen. Shigaraki visibly hesitated between sitting on his own chair or the floor, ultimately selecting the floor while keeping a reasonable distance from you. You had a feeling he wasn't very comfortable with women. But what he may have lacked in social skills, he definitely made up in gaming: his eyes burnt with fiery passion as the title screen appeared on the monitor, his hands tight around the controller. The look he threw you was one of pure confidence:

"C'mon. Show me what you're made of."

He immediately selected All Might in the character selection, implicitly daring you to do the same. All Might was the most powerful character in all the game, but he was famously the hardest one to master, with his controls requiring intense speed and dexterity. You could tell Shigaraki hadn't been lying about being one of the greatest All Might players; his fingers were already lined up on the buttons for a noticeably hard deadly combo. But you weren't one to back down on a challenge.

"5 rounds. No bonus power-ups," you smiled right back at him, pressing the button to also select All Might. The screen flashed red as the game loaded the fighting arena.

"You're playing a pretty dangerous game, you know that, player two ?" he commented, a hint of warning in his tone.

"I don't intend on losing," you replied with a grin.

And if the wild spark in his eyes meant anything, neither did he.

[thevoidstaredback]

Today has been a day

Let's see if I can get this in order.

So, today was the event that the last two days have been Load-Ins for. It was a lot of fun. I came in fully prepared to be put in the sun, but I was put at the ADA/Credentialed elevators on the south end of the stadium. Before I was placed, though, me and Supervisor Bre and a coworker did a loop of Lot 1 (where I was the last two days) and then a loop of the road (blocked off for the event). It was a lot of walking.

It was pretty slow because it was a credential check. I was there at 7, but the gates didn't open until 10, so I wasn't really doing anything because all credentials were allowed past me.

We (me and two others from a different company) had our rush from 10:15 to about 13:30. We kept the elevators (two of them) as clear as we could for staff, ADA, and strollers/wagons, but some people simply refused to walk up the stairs.

There was a miscommunication with credentials, but we got it figured out. There was also a credential leak somewhere, still not sure where, but people were getting into the venue without having their tickets scanned. It was a whole thing.

About 16:00, they finally staffed the elevators so that me and S didn't have to worry about it. At 16:30ish, they turned the elevators to manual, taking away our ability to call them down. Which, I get it, because there were so many people trying to go everywhere, but the elevator staff ignored floor one for almost an hour. We had a lobby full of staff needing to get to the third floor, parents with strollers and wagons, handicap, and concessions all waiting for way too long. We sent as many as we could to the stairs, but it didn't go well. Eventually, S called her boss and basically said "This is unacceptable." then they came back to floor one and ran on a better pattern. Still shit, but better.

The lobby and elevators were all credentials, but there's a door in the back that leads to the lower concourse with direct stadium floor access. Only credentials C, B, A, AA, AA Escort, and staff were allowed back there. Unfortunately, the bathrooms are visible from the lobby. A lot of people were upset that we were making them use the portapotties, but there was one asshole in particular who called us dickheads for it every time we turned him away. His credential was D, so he wasn't allowed back there. Not our fault. He wants better credentials, he needs to take it up with the Tour.

My friend B was in that hallway, checking credentials as well because of the split credential access to the area. Last week, while she was working at the stadium (the one where they put me in the wind tunnel), she almost had to go to the hospital. Managers E and A had put her in the sun and didn't check on her once. Supervisor C was the one who found her and had to call EMTs because she had heatstroke. (The EMTs ripped E and A a new one. I told B she should sue. She won't)

Anyway, B's recovering from Heatstroke, so she's freezing. She asked Supervisor Bre if she could be someone warmer, but he said no. I gave her my hoodie to add to her four layers. One of the building staff turned on the heater for her. She finally warmed up about 14:00.

If you've ever been to or worked at an outdoor venue, then you've probably heard the term Weather Watch. Well, lighting decided to strike about 10 miles from the stadium, so we went on a WW. Then, it moved to 12 miles out before coming back to 8 miles out, making them stall the race by 15 minutes. When it was 6 miles out, they started to evacuate (evac) the building. Everyone was packed on the main concourse like fucking sardines. Then, some idiots decided to hide under a tarp and not get to safety, so I was called up to help. Well, I was going opposite everyone else, trying to get there, people couldn't/wouldn't get out of my way, and I had some guy yell at me for trying to get past. Then, the officers got there and took care of it, so I had to turn around. But, I hate being in large groups of people, especially when they're packed together like that, so I hid in the Guest Services Office until it cleared enough that I could walk around without touching anyone. I may have had a small panic attack, but that's between me and GS. The storm didn't stay, so the race was back on.

The rest of the night was pretty slow, but me and S made friends with one of the concessions guys. We didn't get any, but we were freaking out when he had to take a tower of Cups of Dirt to the VIP room. (Crushed Oreos, pudding of choice, gummy worms mixed together in a cup). We scared the people in the lobby. It was funny.

Also, Monster treats their employees well. I got so much free caffeine today! Also, one of the Big Wigs™ for Monster gave us some drinks himself. He's cool. I liked his jacket and hat. He's also funny.

We had 3 medical emergencies, only one of which had to go to the hospital; 6 missing children, five of which were reported just after the evac, all were found; 1 lightning delay; 1 evac.

Because parking is shit and neither of us were going to ride the train, me and B had to walk from the stadium to the hospital. About a mile. Both of us carry knives on us, especially if we know we're gonna be out at night, and we had B's mom on the phone the whole walk to her car at the hospital parking lot.

B's mom said she had a bad feeling, so she drove to the hospital and waited in the parking lot for us, taking B's phone the whole time. When we got there, a white van started to follow us and we got catcalled. We were ready to stab a bitch, but B's mom (K) scared him off.

I think I covered everything....

I've worked 39 hours in 3 days with 10.5 hours of sleep the whole time. I'mma go to sleep now. Good night!

[deke-rivers-1957]

ECU High - Mikey's Dare

It's now October and the weather starts to get cooler. Mike puts on his sweater and is about to head to his car.

"Mikey don't forget your glasses."

He stops to groan. It was only recently that Mike was told he needed glasses by his optometrist. Despite being very important to his ability to drive, Mike feels embarrassed. Sure he smiled when his mom took a picture of him with them on, but Mike feels that he'll be made fun of if he's seen driving to school wearing them.

"Yes, mom."

He grabs his glasses and puts them on.

"Alright, I'm heading out."

"Stay safe, sweetie."

Mike heads out to the car and starts driving to school. As soon as he stops at a red light he takes them off.

"I'm 18 years old and never had an accident. I can drive to school without them."

As much as Mike has a lot of confidence in himself, he still has someone honk at him for drifting too close in the parking lot.

"Hey I'm trying to park!"

Mike then slams on the brakes when he sees someone walk in front of the car.

"Mikey the hell're ya doin?"

"Huh?"

As he gets closer, Mike realizes that it's Jodie.

"Jodie? Where did you come from?"

"The hell ya think Ah came from? Ah got the only damn truck from the 1950s in this lot."

Mike looks down.

"Can you move so I can park?"

"Put yer damn glasses on!"

He sighs and puts them on.

"Alright now you can park."

Jodie moves so Mike can park.

"Happy now?"

"Hey don't get on mah ass just cause yer blind without yer glasses, Mikey."

Mike gets out of the car.

"Who says I'm blind? I can see just fine."

The two start walking to the school's entrance.

"Full a crap, Mikey. Ya wouldn't've almost hit me when Ah was right in front a you if ya weren't blind."

"But I didn't hit you so quit whining."

Jodie rolls his eyes.

"Bet ya can't even drive home after school without 'em."

"Is that a dare?"

Jodie turns his head drolly.

"No cause Ah know ya can't do it. Only thing yer gonna accomplish's either gettin yerself or others killed."

"And since when did you get a perfect driving record?"

"Hell Ah might speed but Ah ain't that much a dumbass ta think it's safe ta drive when ya can't see."

Mike shakes his head.

"Fine I'll prove to you that I can drive home just fine without glasses. I'll drive you over to my house."

"Aw hell no. Ah ain't gettin in that car if ya won't have yer glasses on. Ah'll follow ya wit mah truck."

Mike scoffs.

"Suit yourself."

The first bell rings and the seniors go their separate ways. They don't meet up until later that day.

"Awright Mikey. Prove me wrong."

"Oh I will Jodie. You'll be shining my tires when we get to my house safe and sound."

Mike starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. Jodie follows him with his old pick up truck. It was a good thing he did. Mike turns the corner and starts driving to the main intersection. Even though it's a green light, the walk sign is up. Jodie honks his horn as he slows down.

"Mikey stop!"

But Mike doesn't stop. Jodie immediately pulls over and puts the truck in park. He gets out and sees who he hit.

"Holy *expletive* Mikey! You just hit Mike!"

"Oh my god!"

He gets out of the car to check on him. A crowd is form around them.

"Jodie call 9-1-1!"

"Yeah Ah'm goin back ta the school."

He rushes back to the truck and drives back to school for help.

"I'm sorry Mike. Please don't die on me. I shouldn't have ever made that bet with Jodie!"

Little does he know that the trouble he's about to be in is only beginning. The police arrive shortly after with an ambulance. The entire street is closed off as Mike's questioned at the scene.

"This was all my fault! I should've had my glasses on. I wanted to prove I can drive without my glasses but I was wrong! And now Mike could die because of me!"

Mike of course is taken to the police station as his Saturn is towed to the pound. His parents are called and Jodie is brought in as a witness for his testimony.

"Jodie there's no finger pointing or any blame game here. We just want to know what you saw since you had Mr. Gates call us."

"Ah was followin Mikey in mah truck because Ah was."

He hesitates to say this.

"Afraid. Ah didn't wanna be in his car in case he had an accident. He awready awmost hit me in the parkin lot earlier today. So Ah told 'em Ah bet he couldn't drive home without his glasses. He took the bet and just a few minutes ago got in the car without his glasses. Ah followed 'em outta the parkin lot, saw 'em turn the corner."

He takes a breath.

"The light was green for us so he weren't tryna run a red light. But he didn't see someone crossin cause the walk sign was up. Ah started slowin down and tried honkin the horn a mah truck ta tell 'em ta stop but Ah guess it was too late. He was goin the speed limit and hit someone. Wasn't till Ah parked mah truck after pullin over that Ah saw he hit Mike."

Everything was written down.

"And what happened then?"

"We both kinda panicked for a sec. Mikey told me ta go call 9-1-1. Ah don't got a cellphone so Ah told 'em Ah'd drive back ta the school ta do it. Principal Gates made the call and Ah drove back ta the intersection."

"And that's it?"

Jodie nods.

"Yeah. That's when y'all showed up and me come wit ya. Ah ain't gonna get a ticket am Ah?"

The officer sighs once the report is done.

"No. Given the circumstances you had to leave the scene of the accident to report an accident. Since you weren't actually in the car with Mike W. the accident wouldn't have been because of you. If anything by slowing down you were trying to prevent one. Just take this as a strong tongue lashing about making a bet like that."

"Well Ah guess it was never a real bet. We never shook hands or really said what'd happen if we were wrong. Ah just told 'em he couldn't do it and he said he'd prove me wrong but that's it. Ah didn't even want 'em ta do it but Mkey said he could."

The office shakes his head.

"Alright. Thanks for your cooperation. You can go. No tickets. No charges."

"Thanks officer."

Jodie gets up and leaves. On his way out he sees Mike holding his head in his hands as he sits in a holding cell. Knowing there's nothing he could say that would help he says nothing. Mike on the other hand could only say one thing to himself.

"I should've never made it a dare."

Tagging: @mercsandmonsters, @vintagepresley, @thetaoofzoe, @elvismylove04, @ashtag6887,

@tupelomiss, @thedaisymaisy, @richardslady121, @arrolyn1114, @theelviseffect,

@elvisbooty76, @theladyofmylife, @xanatenshi, @just-another-boring-bisexual, @aliengoth3, 

@phil2135561, @gayforelvis, @ash-omalley, @eptodaytommorowforever, @wildhorseinkansas,

@alienelvisobsession, @comebackep, @presley72elvis, @leopardandstuds, @ellie-24, 

@heart-of-ep, @thatbanditqueen, @starboybutler, @be-my-ally, @myradiaz, 

@jaqueline19997, @louisejoy86, @peskybedtime, @lookingforrainbows, @kiankiwi, 

@your-nanas-house, @januarypresley1969, @justrae9903, @codalysssssworld, @burnthheparaphilia,

@joshuntildawn13, @briefpandatimemachine, @sillybookmarks, @tacozebra051, @cattcb, 

@perfectpresley, @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s, @lett-them-eatt-cake, @precious-little-scoundrel, @j-v-9-2,

@almightybigbrain, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @miniaturerunawaykid, @msamarican, @hooked-on-elvis,

@doll-elvis, @idk583838, @queencreole1958, @queenncreole, @them-rts,

@halieghhh, @notelvisbutitry, @thelonelyheart, and @theelvisprincess.