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yuujispinkhair · 3 months

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You are watching Sukuna. And Sukuna is watching his brother's girlfriend... Until he is watching you.

-> This is Part 2 of this drabble

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Fluff + angst with a happy end. Word count: 4k. Angst, lots of pining, unrequited love at first, mentions of alcohol. There is no cheating. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end. Minors don't interact.

This small series was inspired by this beautiful art by @nayasch.

Also, for the best experience, I recommend listening to "Is there somewhere" by Halsey while reading this. I had it on repeat while writing. Divider @/hitobaby

It's a spilled drink that brings you closer to Sukuna.

Just a moment ago, you were holding your breath as you walked past the tattooed, pink-haired boy who makes your heart race, too shy to even look his way when you were so close to him. But then someone knocked into you, and now you are standing there like a deer in the headlights, your hands wet, your shirt ruined, staring wide-eyed at the big red stain soaking the front of your crush's white t-shirt.

You faintly hear some guy behind you apologizing. You have no idea if he is apologizing to you or to Sukuna. All you know is that Sukuna is glaring daggers at him,

"Get out of my sight before I punch your stupid face!"

And then those beautiful maroon eyes snap to you, and you forget how to breathe. You wished for Sukuna's gaze to find you, dreamed about it all the time. Hoped he would notice you, hoped that fate would hand you a chance to get closer to him. But now that it happens so unexpectedly, you don't know what to do. A muttered "S... sorry." leaves your lips.

Sukuna's gaze travels from your face down to your shirt, which is just as soaked as his. And that attractive lopsided smirk appears on his face, the one that gives you butterflies, especially now when he is standing right in front of you, close enough to touch. He shrugs,

"Wasn't your fault. I'm gonna change into a fresh shirt. What about you? Want one, too?"

You barely manage a nod before Sukuna starts walking away, and you quickly follow him to his room with your heart beating up to your throat.

He doesn't bother turning away but just pulls his soaked shirt off right in front of you, making your stomach flutter and your face heat when you see his firm abs and chest adorned with those sexy tattoos.

He laughs softly, probably seeing how flustered you are by his bare chest. But he doesn't comment on it and hands you one of his clean shirts, a white one like the one he was wearing before you spilled your drink over it.

He leaves the room after slipping into a fresh shirt, leaving you alone in his room so you can change in peace.

You sit on his bed afterward, pulse fluttering as you feel the soft fabric of Sukuna's shirt on your skin. You bring it to your nose to inhale its scent. It's fresh out of the laundry, so it mostly smells just of fabric softener, but it was in his dresser with his other things, and you can very faintly smell his cologne on it, making you close your eyes and sigh softly, overcome by a longing so bad it almost makes you choke up.

It's ironic. As if fate is taunting you. Here you are, sitting on Sukuna's bed and wearing his shirt like a girlfriend would. But he is already gone again, back to the party, where he will gaze at his brother's girl with the same longing in his eyes that fills yours, too, when you look his way.

Your hand reaches out to touch Sukuna's pillow, fingers sprawling over it, while you stare longingly at the dent where his head rests every night. What you wouldn't give to sleep in this bed with him. Feeling his strong arms around you, your body snuggled against his. Holding him, loving him, showing him that he can have all those things he longs for.

If only things were different.

It's hard to pull yourself away and leave Sukuna's room again. You feel a strange mix of emotions as you walk back to the party. Exhilaration upon getting Sukuna's shirt and being in his room, mixed with that familiar heavy feeling in your chest because you know he isn't yours, and he probably never will be.

You enter the living room and see him leaning casually against the wall in his fresh shirt, tattooed arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexed enticingly, head tilted back, a bottle of vodka pressed to his lips as his eyes are once again on his brother and his girlfriend, who are dancing in the middle of the room.

You leave the party shortly after to go home and crawl into your bed, still wearing Sukuna's shirt, hugging your pillow to your chest, wishing it was him.

Is he alone in his bed, too? Does he yearn, too? Does he, too, think about the one he craves but cannot have?

The thought makes your heart throb painfully.

Another party, another evening of watching the boy you secretly love from your safe space across the room. His gaze is unsurprisingly on the girl standing next to his brother. Yuuji says something to her, and she laughs happily and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. And you see Sukuna's jaw tighten, see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps hard, see the burning jealousy and pain in his eyes.

You blink against the tears threatening to well up in your eyes. His pain is almost palpable to you, but no one else seems to see it. No one seems to care enough to really look at Sukuna. They all just see Sukuna's mocking smirk and the arrogance and roughness he wears like armor. They don't see the pain in those beautiful maroon eyes. They don't see that his heart is aching.

Maybe you only recognize the signs because you feel the same way.

Maybe it is this all too familiar pain you see on his face that makes you brave tonight. And after all, you have a good excuse to walk up to him and stop in front of him, tilting your head to look up at his beautiful face, and say softly,

"Hey, Sukuna... thank you for the shirt you gave me last week. I wanted to give it back to you."

You don't really want to give it back. You have slept every night in it since last week, snuggling into it, inhaling the faint traces of Sukuna's scent, dreaming about having him in your bed, hugging him, feeling the warmth of his body seep through the thin fabric of the t-shirt.

But you reluctantly put it in the washing machine yesterday, folded it neatly, and put it in your bag to return it to him tonight.

You hand him the shirt, and Sukuna takes it, his large hand with the tattoos and various rings brushing over yours, sending the butterflies fluttering in your stomach like crazy. You know how nervous you must look when you smile a shaky smile at him,

"Thank you again. That was really nice of you."

There is surprise in his eyes as if no one ever tells him he is nice. Maybe he isn't. Or maybe people just don't see the small, nice things he does sometimes. Maybe he doesn't want them to see.

"No problem, princess."

You lie awake that night, in your own shirt this time, but with Sukuna's low, velvety voice playing over and over in your mind, calling you princess. You know it means nothing, but it still makes your heart race and a giddy smile lift your lips.

You clutch your drink tightly as you watch the boy you secretly love from across the room, just like you do every weekend. If only you weren't so shy. If only you were brave enough to walk over to him without needing a reason like giving back his shirt.

You sigh longingly as your eyes trail over Sukuna's face. Longing is what you can see on his face, too, as his gaze is on the happy couple at the other end of the room. Your chest feels so tight that it hurts.

I want to take the pain away from you, Sukuna. I wish I could be the one to make you happy.

But you are standing here, and he is standing over there with his eyes on someone else.

A sad love song starts playing and the air in the room feels suffocating all of a sudden.

Maybe you should leave.

What are you even doing at this party, where you are surrounded by so many people but feel more alone than at home, where it is only you and your bed?

What are you doing, coming here week after week just to stare at a boy you can't have? Hurting yourself when you see him looking at someone else. Drowning in desperation when you realize week after week that he is just as alone in his pain as you are and that you will probably never be able to break through his walls.

He is in pain, and you are in pain, and nothing will change about that.

Might as well leave and never come back. Stay away from those stupid parties. Find other places to go to. Maybe after some time, you will be able to forget about pink hair and black tattoos and maroon eyes.

Right when you push yourself off the wall, Sukuna turns his head. That beautiful maroon gaze lands on you, and all you can do is stare back at him.

Time seems to slow down as you and Sukuna look at each other across the room. You are sure he can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the pain in your eyes, can recognize it for what it is because he carries the same pain in his eyes.

Maybe that shared pain is what makes him slowly walk over to you. He stops in front of you, his typical teasing smirk on his lips, but the same sadness still unveiled in his eyes.

For a moment, you think he will ask you to go to his room with him to fuck. And it fills you with dread because you know you would just be a rebound. You would just be someone he uses for sex to take his mind off the girl he really wants. It would mean nothing to him. And yet, you know that you would say yes. You would go with him, would lay down in his bed, would let him take everything he needs from you until you have nothing left. And in turn, you would take anything he is willing to give you, too, even if it was just meaningless sex. Because even if he just used you to distract himself, it would still be better than nothing. Even if it were just impersonal sex, without any feelings involved from his side, you would still go with him just to feel his skin on yours.

But to your relief, the question never comes. Instead, he says in that calm, low voice,

"You look like you aren't enjoying this stupid party either. Even the pizza tastes disgusting. I'll make something myself. Wanna join me?"

You follow him as if you are in a daze. Everything around you is blurred as you walk behind Sukuna's tall figure, following him to the kitchen, your head spinning, making you feel light-headed even though you barely drank any alcohol.

You sit on the kitchen counter while he cooks. Studying his beautiful face while he is focusing on the pan in front of him. The pain in his eyes is not as burning anymore while he stirs the vegetables and adds various spices. Maybe this is why he wanted to come here. Maybe cooking distracts him enough to ease the pain at least a little.

Those maroon eyes you love so much meet yours while Sukuna tells you how tired he is of those parties all the time and those people he cannot stand in his apartment. He doesn't say what he really means, but you know. How tired his heart is of the longing, of the pain, of having to pretend like he is ok.

You tell him he is a good cook when he hands you a spoon to try, and a smile flickers over his face. A genuine smile, not the typical smirk. And it makes you fall. Makes you tumble down an abyss that you know you will never be able to get out of again. As if you needed to fall even more for him. As if you weren't already too in love with him.

You know you are lost. Lost in everything that makes Sukuna Sukuna. You thought you knew him and already fell in love with what you knew about him on a surface level. But now you have caught glimpses of the boy beneath the surface, and it makes you fall even deeper in love with him. Makes your chest hurt even more. Makes your every fiber scream with longing.

He hoists himself up on the kitchen counter next to you, handing you a plate and grabbing one for himself, too. You sit in silence, eating side by side, while the sounds of the party dimly drift to your ears through the closed door.

You praise his cooking skills some more because you are too nervous to think of anything else to say and because you like the way his lips curl in a smile again and how the pain in his eyes is almost completely gone when he turns to look at you.

He tells you where he got the recipe, how he adjusted it over several weeks, and that he enjoys cooking a lot. The way he says it doesn't sound like he is simply doing small talk, but rather as if he is letting you in on a secret. As if this is a side of Sukuna that people aren't supposed to know.

And you smile softly at him, hoping it conveys that you are grateful that he lets you share this moment with him.

His thumb brushes over the corner of your lips to scoop up some stray sauce, making your heart beat so fast you think you will black out.

When you leave an hour later, you tell him that you really enjoyed yourself,

"Thank you for letting me try your food. It tasted delicious... and I..."

You want to tell him how happy it made you to spend time with him, just the two of you in the kitchen. That you will always keep those moments in your heart like a treasure. But you are too shy to say those words out loud, and so you trail off sheepishly, smiling nervously at him and nodding awkwardly.

"Bye, Sukuna. Have a nice rest of the night."

He watches you closely with those beautiful maroon eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face, saying nothing. But he holds the door open for you like a gentleman in those old movies.

You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin when you lie in bed with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your chest for the first time after coming home after one of those parties.

You are standing in a corner, taking a sip from your drink as your gaze wanders to the tall figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tattooed face and arms, pink hair, and maroon eyes.

You are prepared to see his gaze glued to his brother's girl. You are prepared to see the familiar longing and pain on his face. But you frown when you realize Sukuna's gaze isn't staring at a fixed place but instead wandering slowly through the room, scanning it as if he is searching for something or someone, even though the object of his pining is right in front of him. And yet that gaze slips over her and continues to wander.

Until it lands on you.

It catches you so off guard that you spill your drink again. This time, only over your own shirt, but you cannot bring yourself to look at the mess. Your eyes are on Sukuna, watching wide-eyed as he walks toward you, brushing past the girl you thought he would look at without so much as sparing a glance at her.

He looks amused when he takes in the mess on your shirt. A raised eyebrow, a boyish grin lifting the corners of his lips, a long tattooed finger pointing at your chest,

"Need one of my shirts again?"

You are back in his room a few minutes later, changing into one of his clean shirts while he has his back turned to you, making your heart beat so fast that you fear he can hear it thundering in your chest.

He leans against his desk while you sit on his bed, finding it hard to breathe with how nervous you are. With how lovesick you are for him. The longing to hold him so bad that you feel dizzy from it.

And he talks to you, tells you about a new recipe he tried, about a cooking show he watched, about this and that. Like he wants to keep you here in his room. Like he wants a reason to stay here and not go out to the party again. Like you are his escape.

His shirt feels soft on your skin, his bed so tempting under you. You grab a small pillow to hug to your chest, and the butterflies flutter like crazy when you smell Sukuna's cologne wafting off it.

He jokingly asks you,

"Did you spill your drink intentionally so you could get one of my shirts again? Liked it so much, huh?"

And you chuckle and tell him,

"Well, the end justifies the means. That shirt you gave me last time was really comfy. I slept in it a whole week."

You feel your face heat up when you realize what you just admitted. But Sukuna just laughs, and those beautiful maroon eyes sparkle like two precious jewels.

He tells you to keep his shirt this time.

"So you have something to sleep in."

And your voice wavers nervously, but you still tell him:

"You are really nice, Sukuna. Do you know that?"

He scrunches his nose at that,

"That's something I've never heard anyone tell me before. Are you sure you got the right Sukuna?"

"Yeah. In my eyes, you are nice. At least when you want to. You give me your shirts, and you let me try your self-cooked meals, and you hold open doors and talk to me and... make me feel less alone on these parties."

The last part comes out in a whisper, your emotions threatening to choke you up as you are overcome by your feelings for him. Being so close to him, spending time with him, seeing him smile and joke around with you. Sharing those moments with him that seem like something special.

Sukuna's eyes widen, an emotion flickering over his face that you cannot place. Surprise, maybe, but also something else. Something much softer. He looks away for a moment, staring at his wall that is adorned with pictures of pretty landscapes and bright red shrines and an old man standing in the middle of two pink-haired boys.

When he looks at you again, there is a vulnerability in his eyes you have never seen before. His voice is soft when he tells you,

"You make me feel less alone, too."

Sukuna kisses you for the first time at a party two weeks later. And it is not a kiss in the middle of the party. It is not a kiss in front of his brother and his girlfriend. It is not a kiss meant for someone else. It is not a kiss to make someone jealous. It is not a kiss only for the show.

No, it is a kiss that is real. In his room, where he sits next to you on his bed. It is soft and slow. Sukuna's hand is cupping your cheek gently, his lips brushing over yours slowly as if he is scared to hurt you or hurt himself. As if he is scared that he is fucking things up. Or maybe as if he fears he doesn't deserve this.

It's a kiss that makes you fall apart and makes you whole at the same time.

You kiss him back as tenderly as he kisses you. Slow and gentle, your eyes closed, your hand landing on his neck and caressing the short stubble of his undercut. You kiss him like you are writing poetry for him with your lips against his, putting all the words you are too shy to say into this kiss, all your longing for him, all the tenderness you feel for him, all your love. And he kisses you like he is a drowning man who finally reached the saving shore.

You walk out of his room side by side. Sukuna holds your hand, tugging you along to the kitchen to cook another homemade meal he wants to share with you.

Your heart feels like bursting with happiness. No traces of pain are left in Sukuna's eyes when he hands you a plate of stir-fried rice. And that smile is lighting up his face again. He is so beautiful, and you tell him so without worrying that he will make fun of you.

He kisses you again when he walks you to the door, right there in the hallway where anyone can see, his lips lingering against yours before he pulls away as if he doesn't want to let you leave.

You smile at him and nod when he tells you to text him once you are safely home.

"I like you."

Sukuna tells you in a soft voice while you are straddling his lap, currently cleaning some food experiment gone wrong off his tattooed face with a wet kitchen towel.

Wide, terrified maroon eyes look at you as if their owner thinks he just handed you a knife for you to ram into his chest and twist in his heart. It makes your own heart throb painfully even as you feel elated to hear that your feelings are reciprocated. Seeing this rough boy so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of admitting them. Scared what you will do with that confession. Because all he knows about love is that it is painful and that it hurts and never gets returned.

You want to cry for him. For the boy who, until now, only knew meaningless sex and hopeless longing for what he thought he couldn't have. For the boy who believed that love wasn't meant for someone like him.

The first tear slips out of the corner of your left eye as Sukuna's large hands sprawl over your waist possessively, and he repeats his words despite the fear so evident in his low voice, the words nothing more than a hoarse whisper,

"I like you so fucking much."

Your hand with the towel is hovering in midair, your lips twitch, and finally, you cannot hold back anymore, and the tears spill over, running down your cheeks in hot rivulets. A broken sob falls from your lips, followed by a choked-up sounding:

"I like you too."

Sukuna closes his eyes for a moment, long black lashes fanning over his skin, a beautiful image that makes you drop the kitchen towel and cup his cheek with your hand. Your thumb brushes tenderly over the tattooed lines on his skin when those beautiful eyes open again and look deeply into yours.

He is braver than you are. Adding more to his confession. Making sure you can destroy him fully, if you like,

"Do you know what I mean? I.. I think I am in love with you."

"Sukuna..."

Your voice is thick with tears, but you continue despite the fresh tears welling up in your eyes, despite how much you are trembling in his arms,

"I... I am in love with you, too. Have been for months. Or maybe I was in love with an idea of you back then. But now I know the real you, and I fell even deeper in love with you."

You can see in his eyes that he half expected to get turned down, and it breaks your heart for him, even while happy laughter bubbles out of your trembling lips.

You cling to him when he kisses you, never wanting to let go again. Filled with the need to show him that this love won't hurt. That it won't slip through his fingers. That love can be good and safe and give him peace. That he deserves love, too, and that you are here to love him with everything you have.

It's another Saturday, and you are at Sukuna and Yuuji's apartment two hours before the party starts, helping them with the preparations. Yuuji's girlfriend is there too. You feel a bit awkward, a bit uneasy when you see her. But she smiles a genuine smile at you and greets you with a hug.

You work next to her for an hour and realize that she probably never was aware of Sukuna's feelings. She might look at Sukuna, but she doesn't truly see him. She only sees Yuuji. Her gaze is filled with love when she looks at him with an expression on her face that lets you know she has found her person.

You turn around to glance at Sukuna, a mix of fear and hope in your heart. What you see makes your chest fill with warmth. Sukuna isn't looking at Yuuji's girl. He is looking at you. Looking at you with the same expression as Yuuji's girlfriend when she looks at Yuuji. And you know that Sukuna has found his person, too.

You wake up in Sukuna's bed with his tall, firm body behind you, just like you do almost every morning now. You feel his lips against your skin, trailing gentle kisses up and down your neck. His voice is still hoarse from sleeping when he murmurs,

"Mine."

His arms tighten around you and pull you even closer to him. And you answer with a smile audible in your voice,

"All yours."

Your cheeks almost hurt from smiling so broadly when you feel Sukuna's matching smile against your neck and hear his whispered:

"Just like I am all yours."

I cried so much while writing this and listening to the song and looking at the beautiful fanart and the sadness in Sukuna's eyes. This version of Sukuna is my Achilles heel. I love this broken mess of a boy so much. I want to love him so bad and make him happy :(( This story hit me so hard, and the kissing scene is one of my favorite scenes I ever wrote. I am so emotional right now, but also so happy to share it with you.

Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first part of this story, wishing for a happy end. I needed a happy end too, and I am so glad I wrote this!! This story is very personal. I could relate to Reader 100%, and I got the impression that a lot of people could see themselves in her, too. So I hope you could enjoy your happy end with Sukuna, just like I did 🖤

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff

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sepsisklock · 1 year

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Nobody loves an ironic graphic tee more than Zara. She will fight you over this fact with great ferocity.

#digital art #artist #lesbian oc #lesbian #butch #stud #original character #oc art #oc artist #ironic t-shirt #gaymer

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atomic-chronoscaph · 2 months

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Pinball Wizard t-shirt iron-on art by Ed Newton - Roach Studios (1974)

#ed newton #pinball wizard #roach studions #vintage t-shirts #vintage iron-ons #70s fashion #iron on transfers #70s arcade #seventies #1974

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kakecomics · 1 day

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THE 40s: THE QUEEN AND TRADE YEARS 1. is barely out of his teens 2. is a queen 3. or a bit of a rough trade 4. dances with strangers 5. works in an office 6. or wears a uniform 7. has big hair 8. smiles sweetly 9. knows how to dance a Finnish waltz 10. irons his trousers 11. wears shoes 12. a sports jacket 13. and doesn't shrink from a bow tie 14. has serious eyebrows 15. has a narrow waist 16. and likes it to be close to yours (is that a gun in your pocket?)

THE 50s: THE LUMBERJACK YEARS 1. is in his early 20s 2. gets a haircut 3. keeps smiling 4. lives in the great outdoors 5. gets his muscles from logging trees 6. keeps that [waist], though! 7. has a knife 8. wears wading boots for work 9. really likes wood 10. starts wearing blue jeans 11. goes where his feet take him 12. has small nipples 13. and a washboard stomach 14. loses those eyebrows 15. knows how to handle a big stick 16. but doesn't have sex on his mind

THE 60s: THE BIKER YEARS 1. is in his late 20s 2. wears biker boots (machine's parked outside) 3. starts going to the gym 4. doesn't forget his pecs 5. grows a wider waist 6. grows his hair in a fringe 7. and sideburns 8. has lots of body hair 9. grows serious nipples 10. wears a soft leather cap 11. with a phallic logo 12. smokes 13. likes tight white T-shirts 14. doesn't go anywhere without his leather jacket 15. lives in his jeans 16. button fly, of course! 17. lost his belt 18. starts bursting at the seams 19. has 'fucker' written on his back (just in case) 20. is popular in bars 21. guess what he's after 22. smiles less 23. but is very happy to see you

THE 70s: THE CLONE YEARS 1. is in his early 30s 2. gets a serious haircut 3. but keeps the sideburns 4. and tries out a moustache 5. doesn't have a bike but gets around 6. grows veins 7. goes to gay bars 8. looks happy but doesn't smile 9. always has his poppers handy 10. gets a Tom belt 11. buys leather shorts 12. with a zip fly 13. wears biker boots 14. loses his body hair 15. likes a bit of SM 16. and doesn't spare the whip 17. knows his hankie code 18. gets his ear pierced 19. keeps up at the gym (late afternoon) 20. and grows his pecs 21. because he knows bigger is better

THE 80s: THE FETISHIST YEARS 1. in his late 30s (pushing 40?) 2. after '85 is often black 3. gets his head shaved 4. or has a mohican 5. and loses his sideburns 6. develops a love for hard leather caps 7. and starts to smile again 8. grows a big moustache 9. pumps more iron than ever 10. and knows big tits are here to stay 11. (not sure what happened to those nipples, though) 12. has cast iron hips 13. and his neck outgrows his face 14. sometimes has a foreskin 15. gets a sword-belt 16. jodhpurs 17. with a button fly 18. and a wide belt 19. wears riding boots 20. is clearly identifiable as one of Tom's men 21. uses a condom 22. and knows biggest is best

TOM'S MEN Tom of Finland: The Art of Pleasure

#Tom of Finland #Tom of Finland: The Art of Pleasure #Tom's Men #vintage gay #*#**#gayedit #holesrus #gay leather #men in uniform

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copperbadge · 7 months

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Lying in bed this morning, working on a bit in the novel about defining "shoulder season" for the reader, I realized what my personal aesthetic is currently: Tourist Gothic.

Tourist Gothic as a fashion statement is based on the following precepts.

1. Comfort. Comfortable, weather-appropriate clothing is rarely glamorous, but I'm not here to win Drag Race. I'm on vacation and wearing what best combines 'I like how I look in this so you don't have to' with 'I can wander around a strange place for hours.' If everyone you meet is someone you'll never see again, their opinion of you is irrelevant.

2. Loudness. My traveling companions need to be able to spot me easily. A bright floral print or a weird hat is just the thing. (Protip if you like me are prone to wandering away from the group, a really weird hat is the best way to make sure they can find you. I have a newsboy cap with wings sewn onto it for just such a purpose.)

3. Delight. Where else but on vacation can I wear my Costco Hot Dog t-shirt? On vacation it's appropriate whether I'm at a sausage sizzle, a football match, or an art museum.

4. Utility. If I have to, I can wash my entire wardrobe in a hotel room sink. The socks can be soaked and frozen in a plastic bag to use as an ice pack. Everything has pockets and nothing hurts.

5. Sincerity. Nothing a tourist wears is worn ironically. Commitment to the bit must be total.

The central precept of the look is that one is too concerned with both comfort and adventure to conform to dress code. I don't want to blend in, I want you to take me to the best local cuisine you have and overcharge me for it. I am here to admire your architecture and support your economy. Now just apply all that to everyday life, and boom. Tourist Gothic.

If you're wondering how this differs from everyday Dad Wear, your average Tourist Goth has slightly higher emotional investment in sandals and sunscreen and a lower commitment to belts overall.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk, so glad to see so many of you are wearing golf shorts.

#fashion #aesthetic #cottagecore this and dark academic that #im photographing your thatched roof and dribbly candles for the folks back home #where is back home?#mind your business

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silent-stories · 5 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: After moving to Hawkins for a fresh start, you meet a boy with kind, brown eyes who will quickly become a friend and maybe something more. The only problem is: you took something that belongs to him by accident and now you don't know what to do.

Part 1

When your alarm went off the next morning, you nearly fell out of bed.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, raising a hand to cover your eyes hit by the sun's rays streaming through the window of your messy bedroom.

As you got out of bed, you suddenly remembered that the night before you had fallen asleep after reading the first sentence written in the notebook that you had found in your bag and that most likely belonged to Eddie.

You found it at the foot of the bed and picked it up, making sure the picture of the unknown woman was still inside it and put it inside the backpack you were going to take to school without really knowing what to do with it.

You grabbed the first pair of ripped jeans you found in the corner and put them on with a random shirt before leaving your room. To do that you stepped over an old art project and a mannequin foot left on the floor, and you mentally promised yourself that if you ever moved again in your life you wouldn't take all that stuff with you. You hoped that you would soon find the will to sort out your things.

“Aren't you having breakfast?” Your aunt asked when she saw you ready to leave the house.

“No, I'm already late. And I promised Eddie we'd meet in the parking lot in front of school.”

“Oh, alright.” She commented with her usual smirk when you talked about Eddie.

“I told you not to look at me with that face!” You yelled at her with a laugh as you left the house.

You crossed the garden and got into your car. “Hey, Casper.” You spoke to the skeleton sitting in the passenger seat as you started driving towards school.

“If you were in my place what would you do, hm?” You asked the inanimate object, “I know that keeping the notebook is not the right choice: it doesn't belong to me. But what can I tell him “hey, I found a notebook where you wrote a lot of personal facts about yourself but don't worry, I know it sounds incredible but I haven't even opened it. I just know it's most likely yours."

You sighed. "It's ridiculous. If I give it back he'll think I read it anyway, won't he? So I can read it anyway, right?"

The only response you got was the sound of bones rattling and hitting each other when you drove over one of the bumps in the road.

You knew they said that curiosity killed the cat but you couldn't help but think that you wanted to read everything written in that notebook.

You parked your car in the first free space you found in front of the school, some students looked at your car with a mixture of surprise and concern, and to your big surprise, you saw Eddie with his arms crossed and his back against what must have been his van talking to Dustin, the boy you had met the previous morning.

Did everyone in that town know each other or was it a coincidence?

Whatever they were chatting about didn't really matter because when you reached them they stopped talking, Eddie looked up and when his eyes met yours, he had a smile on his lips. "Hey stranger." He greeted you.

You wondered if he had that reaction with everyone or if it was something he reserved only for you but you doubted the first option was the right answer, and just thinking about that made you smile the same way.

"Hey."

“Wait, you guys already know each other?” Dustin asked, moving his gaze between you and Eddie.

“Well, I called her a stranger, of course not.” Eddie joked and you rolled your eyes. He was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt and the same denim vest as the previous day.

"Yeah, something like that." You said to the kid, "and he promised me a tour of the school. I hope he hasn't forgotten already."

“Oh, how could I?” He brought a hand to his chest pretending that your supposition hurt him, "I have an honor to respect. I made a promise to a fair lady and i need to respect it."

You chuckled. "Then lead the way."

You said a quick "bye" to Dustin before Eddie walked off towards school and you followed him until he suddenly stopped.

"But first I really have to ask you something."

For a moment you thought it was about the notebook, your mouth went dry in a few seconds.

“Where the hell did you find that thing?” He pointed to the skeleton sitting in your car a few feet away from you.

You burst out laughing both for the relief that his question didn't involve his lost item and for the funny way he asked you the question.

"Well, it was my last day of school and I was in my old biology class..."

During the tour, you realized that the jogs must not have liked Eddie very much and the feeling was definitely mutual. The first time a boy in a green and white jacket, identical to the one worn by the guy who tried to steal Dustin's hat, had shouldered Eddie while you were walking down the halls you thought it was an accident. The second time must have been a coincidence. The third time you understood that they were doing it on purpose.

"Don't worry about them, they try to act tough but they're all assholes who like to annoy people like me." You stopped in front of English class, the first one of your day, a sign that the tour was over. From the way he spoke, it almost seemed like he was trying to reassure you even if you didn't need it.

"Like you?"

"Yeah, the freaks."

You tilted your head to the side, studying his expression and trying to figure out if he was serious or joking. "You are not a freak."

"Well, you might be surprised by the rumors going around Hawkings about me." His brown eyes were kind, as always.

"What rumors?"

The bell rang and the students began to enter their respective classrooms.

"Oh, I think you'll find out soon. See you, okay?"

“O-Okay…” You mumbled before Eddie walked away and disappeared into the sea of students.

You sighed, then walked into the classroom and sat at an empty desk at the back.

If he didn't want to talk about his secrets then you would find out on your own.

You opened your backpack and grabbed the little brown notebook.

You started reading as the teacher started talking about an old poem you didn't really care about.

I realized that I almost don't remember her anymore and that's the thing that scares me the most. I don't want to forget her.

She's been gone for years now, and I thought I had a grip on the memories, but they're starting to slip away now and I'm so fucking scared one day I won't remember her at all.

I used to hear her voice in my head, clear as day. Now, it's like tuning into a distant radio station with too much static. I find myself straining to remember the way she'd say my name or the casual "How was your day?" It's fucking frustrating, and it scares me that one day, even those snippets will be probably gone.

I don't wanna forget her.

At night, I close my eyes, trying to summon the feeling of being wrapped up in her arms. It's elusive, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm losing something fundamental. I miss that safe place and it's fucking embarassing.

I'm an adult now and I still miss my mom. Embarassing.

I catch glimpses of her in old photographs, frozen moments that I clutch onto desperately. But even those are starting to feel like stories I've heard rather than moments I've lived.

And it scares me. It scares me because it feels like losing her all over again.

You looked away from the notebook. You closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled air through your nose, the teacher's voice only a backdrop to your thoughts much louder than her words.

What you had read were private things, things you shouldn't have read and yet you couldn't help but continue to do so.

They were things he had probably never talked about to anyone if he felt the need to write them there, it was a vulnerable part of himself that he had decided to hide in that notebook and you were invading it.

The single page you had read had made you want to give the biggest hug to that boy who you had only known for a little more than a day and who was probably way sweeter than he wanted to let others see.

"Shit." You muttered to yourself for the second time that day.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

The only good thing: @corrodedseraphine @definitionwanderlust @paleidiot

Okay I'm already losing interest in this series sorry lol if you won't seen an update in years you know why

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x alt!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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sizzleissues · 2 months

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Gift (Core 4 and Adrien thinks, writing exercise)

“You didn’t have to!” Marinette says, squealing as she turns the t-shirt over in her hands. On its front is the visualiser art for Jagged Stones obscure first release, faded now by years of love and soap. Alya beams, leaning forward to see the gift through Marinette’s ecstatic eyes.

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You just happened to mention you’d discovered Crocodile Mania on the phone as I passed the second-hand store. It was fate really.” She shrugs but her pleasure in a successful gifting is betrayed by her smile.

Adrien can’t but feel slightly envious of her fortune. Marinette had loved the various gifts he’d given her (for example the blanket draped across her knees. While he couldn’t knit or sew, he knew that she was in dire need of something to keep her warm during the night because she kept shivering and denying it. He’d ironed on a few cat themed patches to the front and she’d glowed upon receiving it.) But nothing had quite elicited the same reaction (well, nothing material at least…)

Marinette puts the t-shirt to her face, giggling and falling back. As Nino hands his gift to Alya, she slips it on, cradling her arms around her chest. It fits perfectly.

“This is really nice Alya, I hope you didn’t spend too much. Memorabilia like this is usually-.”

Alya turns, her new set of earmuffs in her hands, and shakes her head. “It’s fine Marinette, it really wasn’t that much.”

“Alya,” she complains.

Adrien sighs internally. Always eager to give but chronically unable to receive, as Ladybug or as Marinette. At some point he’d figured out as Chat Noir that his roses weren’t rejected out of apathy or lack of feelings but by her inability to accept them. At first because she didn’t feel he was sincere, and then because she despised the money spent on it.

“It’s just too much,” she’d say. “Money better spent elsewhere.”

“It’s just too much,” she says to Alya now. “Money better spent elsewhere.”

“But for the look on your face? Priceless,” Alya assuages and partially convinces Marinette to relax her anxious frown. Adrien huffs, when he’d used that line last year she’d balked at him.

Money is it. The insecurity of it. The lack of it. Something he has in spades but his friends do not. That was the source.

The conversation moves on, the ‘friend exchange gifts in a circle with a STRICT spending limit’ over because none of them could agree what to call it. White elephant was too ostentatious according to Alya, sick of its results in her own family. She’d ended up with a bag of baby carrots, three golden Easter eggs the size of her head and a miniature chicken carved out of broccoli over the course of the years. Secret Santa deemed pointless by Nino because there were so little of them around they’d figure it out immediately. Finally Marinette vetoed grab bag for similar reasons to Nino. In the end, it mostly resembled regular gift giving.

“Speaking of Jagged Stone, did you see he’s performing in a few weeks. Tickets are crazy.” Nino lifts up his phone to show the dates and ticket price.

“That’s insane.”

“Who can afford that?”

“That’s not too bad-,” Adrien pauses, realising his response didn’t fit the other ones yelled out by the others. “That’s awful,” he corrects. Luckily, he only receives one odd glance from Marinette against his chest.

“Like maybe if it was later, but that’s so close. No one commissions me during January,” Marinette muses, playing with his arm as she speaks. Her hands make their way to his, intertwining and twisting until settling together. It’s quite distracting.

“Same here. Work doesn’t really pick back up until after they’ll be sold out. And then there’s definitely no getting them.” Alya groans and flops against the back of the couch. Balancing university and work had become the main struggle for many of them. To afford it they needed to work but to pass class they needed to study.

Notably not Adrien. The difference had become ever more starkly present since leaving collegé. While his friends took up odd jobs and dived for spare change, he continued modelling only because the evenings became incredibly boring with his friends often scattered across Paris, being more adult than him. He could quit, he should quit after everything, but then it was just be more obvious the free time his financial status afforded him. It wasn’t like he didn’t offer to help. But from there you ran into a different problem. Pride.

Case and point.

“I could get the tickets-,” he begins.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

“Adrien no. Bad.”

“Don’t even suggest it.”

“And you can pay it back once things pick up again.” He finishes. Marinette relaxes her sudden iron grip on his hand.

“Oh.” The let out collectively.

From under his head Marinette hums. “That could work. I usually get work in February anyway.”

“Exactly,” he says. “It has no downsides.”

Wow. I can write again. Unfortunately it’s the present tense calling to me which isn’t my usual. Forgive, I’m stretching my bones.

Anyway this is sort of based off the discussions I’ve been seeing about Adrien and gift giving. Idk if it really hits it but I had fun and it was nice to play around in these characters heads again after so long.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml fanfic #sizzle writes #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe

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bunnypeew · 3 months

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Under star-lit skies - Moon/Sun x reader part 1

Okay so I started writing this cuz my obsession for Sun and Moon came back since I keep getting posts and fanart of them so here is the first part of the fanfic you can read it on Ao3 linked in my bio :3c

it was one of those days, one where you and your class had to go to a stupid location outside of town. You weren’t eager about it since you preferred being closed in the confinement of your dorm room, but an outing was necessary even for you. You got up from your bed unwillingly and started getting dressed, some sweatpants a t-shirt and a hoodie on top, was pretty easygoing and comfortable for a day out.

you weren’t sure where you were going until it came into focus, the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex for some reason you weren’t going to question it since your school did choose some random places all the time, not caring if it’s educational or not, but you guessed it was because of the way the pizzaplex was built, could be really interesting or maybe how the animatronics worked. You all went into the pizzaplex being greeted by some basic-looking bots holding maps

“Take a map, take a map,,

you take one and look the other way a little creeped out, you hope those poor things weren’t sentient like the bigger ones otherwise this would’ve been fucked up. The tour starts then, going around the entire pizzaplex from Gator golf to Roxy raceway, it was pleasant meeting the big animatronics in charge of entertainment. Roxy, in charge of Roxy Raceway, was a wolf animatronic with long grey hair and a puff of green in the front, while Gator Golf was attended by Monty, an alligator-like animatronic with icon star-shaped sunglasses, he was pretty cool. Then you arrived at the star of the gang Freddy Fazbear himself, he was a nice bear animatronic with a little top hat on his head and an iconic earring on his left ear. He waved at everyone with a happy smile on his face, you waved back catching his attention, noticing you he winked at you also doing finger guns, you smiled and blushed a little bit at that (blushing over an animatronic? Are you okay??)

You then arrived at your last stop, the Superstar Daycare. It was a place full of kids, also full of toys and arts&crafts stuff (of course like the name said it was a daycare) but something caught your eye, the animatronic that was attending the children, it was a jester-like robot with a sun for a head that could spin around when it wanted to

“Hello everyone! I am Sun! the daycare attendant I hope you guys had a lovely tour so far!,,

he says lively his rays on his head spinning around happily, Sun huh? (ironic isn’t it) You were fascinated by him, he was really, pretty? I guess you could call him pretty.

When you got back to your dorm you picked up your laptop right away and started doing research on Fazbear Entertainment, finding a lot of weird stuff about some lawsuits and shit like that, you didn’t care you went on to look if the pizzaplex out of town was looking for a job, you really needed one and that was a big place so maybe they did need some human personal, you were also hoping you’d get to work near or in the daycare, you wanted to know more about Sun. Thinking about that you looked up the Superstar Daycare for some more information and found yet another lawsuit about the daycare this time, you read through it.

“my son was traumatised by your stupid daycare attendant and can’t sleep with the lights off anymore, whatever that thing did to him. You should decommission it right away it is not safe for children,,

you scrunch up your nose at that, because there is no way this person was talking about Sun seemed like a nice guy! So you did more research finding out the animatronic they were talking about was not Sun, but an animatronic called Moon, he was the nap time attendant and apparently, they were two separate animatronics, which intrigued you even more.

Doing even more research you find out they were actually looking to hire someone, it didn't say in which position but you weren't one to complain about stuff like that so you wrote an email and sent it, you weren't expecting a reply right away so you decided to go to bed.

It was dark, and something was bothering you but you couldn't put your finger on it, you found yourself in a jungle gym of some sort crumbled up like a pretzel, you started moving in front of you or what you thought was in front of you, while moving you could hear some sort of music, like a soft melody getting closer and closer until it stopped, you stopped as well, looking around now trying to understand where you were.

clang.

BOOM.

You wake up in your bed full of sweat and your heart beating super fast, you get your phone from your nightstand only to see it is 2 am, you definitely can't sleep after this weird ass nightmare you just add so you decide to start scrolling through social media. Before you get the chance to do that tho you get a notification from your emails, saying that Fazbear Entertainment sent a reply to your email, accepting your application!

You get up to do a little victory dance happy for it to begin.

tomorrow is another day.

this is how they will look in the fanfic since they are separate animatronics here the one in the middle is my persona ignore them I insert myself in every fandom I go in lol!!

#moondrop #sundrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf sb #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fanart #fnaf fandom #ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #archive of our own

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