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sakuraryomen01 · 6 months

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Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ .o9

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, Gojo getting a drink of water and healing up his cheek, soft! sukuna, fairly fluffy morning with sukuna and gojo, gaming with geto, a new pov!

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

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

words: 4.256k

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

a/n:: not only am I starting to cook something up in my lil pea brain, i am making more fanfictions on wattpad as well! i don't know if i've let y'all know that yet but i felt i needed to tell you! there's going to be some only-wattpad reads on there (unless taken down ofc) that are hopefully gonna be good!

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

. . .

At first, Gojo thought that the night had started pretty decently.

He got a few new numbers at a party with Geto, aka his best friend, and a quick blow job from a lil blonde in the bathroom. He can’t exactly recall where the loo was since he was just a smidge drunk. Normally, his head would be throbbing from the alcohol within a few minutes, but it was just a light buzz. Either way, the end of the night didn’t turn out that way sadly.

He had waddled on home after Geto dropped him off at the male’s dormitory to go park, his bunned up hair and silver rings flashing in the lamplight of a pole before he spun off to the student’s designated parking lot.

Gojo had started walking back, fumbling with his keys and phone. A drunken smile on his face while he hiccuped and a coo eliciting his throat, although he looked up and saw a very sexy silhouette walking his way from his base of origin. Quickly though, he saw that it was just you, a very flustered little mess walking from the building in your casual attire. Adorable.

Messing with you was like Gojo’s favorite pastime.

He stumbled over as best he could towards you, seeing just over his shifted sunglasses with the smallest of smiles on your face. But, it disappeared and changed into a concerned gasp. Gojo felt a soft hand on his forehead, though was somewhat shocked that you had the potential to reach such a height. Though he was leaning forward, sloppy and dirty this Satoru was.

He heard you speak, but the first half was blurred. You had asked him a question out of concern. “..Are you high, drunk, or sick?”

“My girl, you're judgy so muchy~ Let me live without demands!” Gojo said in a very matter of faculty way, at least that’s what he thought. Although, he was more curious as to why you were at the male’s dorm. It wasn’t a tutoring night, was it? Oh?

Maybe something else was happening? Hm? Sounds exciting and gossip worthy.

Sadly, there was very little to offer as you fixed him up before patting his shoulder and parting ways. Well, at least that’s how it was going until a pink haired blurr rushed over and there was a loud crack sound. There was also a thump sound, but Gojo’s eyes had already closed and a groan was leaving him before everything went black.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

“You’re kidding me, right? You had to knock his ass out?”

What..?? Who?

“He was kissing your cheek, what was I supposed to do?!”

Oh, so like a pervert? Huh, I wonder who that is..

“It’s Satoru Gojo, he’s not that big a pervert, idiot! Honestly, now he’s going to have a sore jaw or something worse!”

Gojo’s hearing was definitely coming back, there was no ringing anymore. That’s a win. And there’s two people fighting over him, one of them was a girl– he could tell. Also win. The other was a guy. Still a win, but it depends on how he looks. Either way, Gojo’s eyes slowly began to open and the light of the tv was starting to register for him. The room he was in was a living room, with a blanket poorly draped over his middle and left leg.

It wasn’t that big a deal though, seeing as he was tall as fuck and not many blankets covered him now.

“..Mghh..” He grumbles, pressing his brows together and lifting a sore hand up to his cheek. Feeling the damage, there was just a sore ache and a bump. But thankfully, whoever found him gave him an ice pack for the swelling. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Oh he’s awake?” A man’s voice rings through Gojo’s ears and there’s a sudden twinge of annoyance with it. “Finally. He’s stinking up my couch.”

“You’ve gotten really dramatic,” A woman’s voice spoke back, a sigh of annoyance before stepping over to check on the currently disgruntled Gojo.

Gojo’s eyes managed to adjust to the light and landed on you, smiling and reaching up to pat your thigh. “Oh, so you are the one fighting with some guy over me. I’m touched.”

You chuckle at this before removing the ice pack, checking his jaw and cheek before returning it to its spot. Looking over at the man at the kitchen counter, Gojo recognized the pink fluffy hair and sat up. Seeing a very ruffled freshman with drooping eyelids and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. Eyes glued to Gojo and you being close with a slight annoyance on his face.

I mean, of course he would. You’d be mad if you knocked someone’s lights out and they were moved into your living room to recover.

“So, can he go now?” Sukuna muttered, pressing his brows together and letting out another sigh of annoyance. Clearly Sukuna didn’t like having other guys over. It’s giving, no friends?

“Just relax,” You said, giving Gojo’s head a pat and huffing. “He’s not that bad of a stay.”

A dark look crossed the pink haired punk's face at the mention of Gojo, but it quickly faded as he made his way over to the kitchen’s fridge. He pulled out what seemed to be either a beer or a soda can and cracked it open, taking a sip and walking over. Letting his free black nail painted hand sit comfortable on his hip, looking down at the situation with a disapproving glare.

Gojo chuckled weakly at this and sighs, rubbing his jaw and returning the glare. “What~ Don’t trust me?”

“Not really,“ Sukuna replied flatly and grumbled, lowering his drink from his lips and nodding towards his room. “Either way, she’s gonna be sleeping in there. You.. You just stay there. I’ve heard about you and your moments with girls.”

While you sat there, watching the obvious alpha vs alpha moment– total cringe by the way– you laughed and grabbed some blankets and pillows that decorated the couch and started getting the space ready for two men to sleep in.

“Boys,” Is all you said while you roll your eyes, taking the bundle of warmth into the next room while the said boys continued their little staring contest.

You quickly made a place for Gojo and Sukuna to both sleep in the living room, although everything in your mind said to just switch with Sukuna instead. You couldn’t go into Sukuna’s room, it’s too embarrassing and personal wasn’t it? For him at least?

Nonetheless, you finished setting up your bed and quickly making sure with Sukuna that it was absolutely alright to sleep in there, you badgered him into watching three different horror movies with Gojo. Picking between the three though, it was a little tougher than you had planned it to be.

“Friday the 13th is one of the dumbest horror movies,” Sukuna said, arms crossed on his end of the coffee table.”I like seeing tits as much as the next guy, but Nightmare on Elm Street has more story.”

Oof, you got him there, Sukuna.

“At least Friday the 13th is better than Halloween!” Gojo whined in response, lifting up the movie’s case and shaking it. Pointing at the label, right under the “uncut” bit of it. “At least it’s not this garbage! This has almost no plot other than a psycho chasing after his baby sister like a weirdo.”

True, true..

While the boys continued to rant and grumble, you stood from your cushion on the floor and grabbed the movie you had chosen. It was fairly recent, kinda creepy and gross, and with a dancing clown. Opening the case, the crack caught the attention of the two guys at the table and you pop in the DVD. There was a triumphant smile on your face as you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed three bowls and spoons.

“What did you put in?” Sukuna asked, his brows furrowed in obvious annoyance. “We agreed we would be coming to a decision together.”

You shrug and pull out a big tub of ice cream you had purchased earlier when Sukuna had gotten sick. “Y’all keep bickering so I decided to choose mine. It’s a little spooky, a little gross, and has a clown in it.”

The white haired, blue eyed, slightly drunk Gojo shuddered and pressed his brows together. He had seen this movie with Geto before and the fear inside him made him cringe. “Really? It? Did you have to choose that creepy movie?”

Sukuna waves a hand, watching you put ice cream into the bowls from the massive tub you had bought. “Hold on, is it the 1990 version or the 2019 one?”

You sigh and shake your head as you finish putting up the ice cream and make your way over to the table. Placing the bowls on the table and making at least one of the boys smile, while sitting between them and lifting the remote to skip through the previews that were already playing. Sukuna grumbles under his breath, something he appears to be doing often, and you play the movie. The scene starts on a thundering day in Derry, the gray sky giving an ominous feel to the already creepy music that was playing. The camera pans to a large and abundant home that held two brothers, Billy the oldest, and Georgie the youngest.

The pair are currently working on a paper boat, Billy smiling once he finishes and turns to his little brother. Asking him to go and get some wax to finish their little paper boat, but Georgie complained until he was finally convinced to go get the wax.

During this, Gojo had managed to scoot his way over to join you and face the TV screen. Actively scooping his ice cream with a childish gleam in his eye as he watched the movie, while Sukuna sat somewhat farther away, side eyeing the both of you with a huff and an upset look on his pouty face. While you wanted to tease and make fun of the face, you stayed quiet as the movie played on.

The iconic 2019 scene with Georgie and Pennywise started, the clown being played by the fabulous Bill Skarsgård. You smile and look between the two men before smirking and announcing suddenly;

“Bill is really pretty.”

The sudden confession earned you a confused side eye from the boys, their brows raising in perfect harmony. “Sorry?” Gojo started, still sucking on his cream covered spoon between his pink lips. You chuckle at the dumbfounded looks and stay quiet, letting their minds fester in confusion until the scene where Pennywise and Georgie meet and start to talk.

Sukuna’s tongue clicks at the cgi that plays later, making you giggle and lean back against the couch, continuing to munch on the ice cream and snuggling into your blankets. Smiling as the boys also got comfortable. Sukuna puts his bowl on the table once his dessert is gone, Gojo’s already on the table since he finished a while ago.

While you wanted to stay up and watch more movies with them, your eyes started to slowly close. And while the main group of the movie started getting hallucinations of Pennywise, and their darkest fears, you had fallen asleep. Head resting on Sukuna’s shoulder and thoroughly surprising him.

Gojo glanced over with half his face behind the blankets and chuckles, smiling slightly at the cutesy scene before him. “Aren’t you two snuggly~? Kinda cute of you to act like that, punk.”

“Says the punk,” Sukuna grumbled back, brows pressed together in a quiet attempt to regain some dignity. Though, that didn’t come back as he lifted you into his strong and warm arms, biceps flexing under the weight. “I’ll get her to bed. You just.. don't touch anything."

Gojo lifts a hand and uses his other to make a cross across his chest, turning his attention back to the movie and letting Sukuna take you to bed. (But once Sukuna got back, he was definitely convinced that Gojo used it as an excuse to get more ice cream.) The trip wasn’t long, and Sukuna couldn’t help but glance down at your sleeping face before entering his own room, seeing your cute little lips still as plump as before. Doing that same pout they always did whenever you slept.

The pink haired bad boy wasn’t particularly proud that he remembered your sleeping face from years ago, but he still did. It doesn’t matter anyways. Sukuna didn’t want to get cuddly anymore.

He’s not the kid he once was, the one that followed you around during school so that he could keep an eye on you. To protect you from all the other snot nosed fourth graders that dared side-eye you a certain way. That wasn’t the same Sukuna Ryomen that was carrying you to bed right now.

Once he had placed you on the mattress, he let his mind wander for a moment and he brushed his fingers lightly against your cheek. Pushing some stray hairs behind your ear with a small hum– he didn’t want to enjoy it, despite all the little holes inside him begging to.

With much restraint, Sukuna’s hand removed itself from your cheek. There was a weird twinge in his chest at this, his hand even clamping up and turning into a fist as he stood. Patting his shorts off though, the feeling soon left. But he felt it linger in his heart when he left the room and closed the door, walking back into the living room to see that Gojo had already claimed the couch and was nuzzling into a pillow asleep.

Woe is the one with no bed to slumber..

With a sigh, Sukuna gathered the empty bowls and went to wash them up in the sink. Letting the warm water from the faucet wash away all the bubbles and cloudy thoughts in his head. Watching the suds foam around his fingers and the sponge, wiping away the ice cream residue on the bowels and spoons. The urge to get a beer and fall in bed with you though was powerful, so all his restraint was holding him back from doing so.

“What the hell..” He muttered to himself, letting one of the spoons slip from his grip and clang in the metal sink. “Ah, shit..”

When did he become so soft? It’s been a month, hasn’t it?

Sukuna stills, squeezing the sponge lightly in his grip. Realizing that it took just a month– maybe even a few weeks– for you to already worm your way back into his heart. He didn’t want that, he didn’t need it. That little childish promise he made all those years ago was just some little dream he once had. It had no real meaning, no need to further investigate.

“..That’s it..” Sukuna says quietly to himself, rinsing off the bowls and spoons before putting them on the rack. Wiping off his hands and going to get a spare change of clothes quickly, making sure to keep quiet as best he can to not wake you or the punk on his couch.

He got his coat and his shoes, grabbing his keys and taking one last glance back at his now full dormitory. Grimacing at the pervert on his couch, and the girl in his bed, he left and locked up the apartment. Rushing down the hall, despite it being almost twelve at night, to find a girl willing to release himself on. Sukuna had to get you out of his head, he didn’t care how, he didn’t care who.

Letting you control over his heart was something he didn’t want you to do to him again.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

After you had woken up in your childhood best friend’s bed, you were quick to clean up the room as best you could before leaving to ask to borrow the shower. What you didn’t expect was to find Sukuna missing from his sleeping area on the floor. You were curious but didn’t want to call him, seeing as he was an adult and could take care of himself.

While you were anxious about using it without permission, you stripped in his room and got a towel to wrap yourself up in. Putting your dirty laundry and undies into the washing machine before heading into the bedroom to use the shower. You went to work washing your body, making sure to take care of your hair and face properly, even though you didn’t have your face washing items with you on hand.

Then again, you didn’t plan on staying the night at Sukuna’s dorm.

Now that you thought about it, sleeping in Sukuna’s bed was a lot more embarrassing than you thought. Letting your thoughts wander, you started to remember how warm the bed actually was. It was comfortable, with sheets as soft as clouds, and a pillow that hugged your face and relaxed your neck throughout the spine.

Blissfully remembering your sleep and the peaceful dreams that clouded them, you got out of the shower and dried off. Wrapping a towel around your chest, taking special care to make sure the slit of the towel was covered before leaving the bathroom only to be startled and slam the door closed just as quickly as you had opened it.

Sukuna. Behind the door.

“...What the hell?” His voice croaked out after a second– once you had finished screaming your heart out of course. “What are you doing in a towel?!”

“SHOWERING, OBVIOUSLY!!”

There was more silence between you two, before you cracked the door open to see Sukuna rummaging through his drawers for something. Completely shielding his view of you, which made your heart throb slightly. Doki Doki? You got out of the bathroom and squirmed in your spot by the door before Sukuna tossed a large shirt over his shoulder at you and grabbed some shorts as well.

His brows pressed together with a gruff tone to his voice. “Go on, put them on.”

“Ah, Sukuna..” You blush slightly at the gesture, shaking your head when you catch the shirt. “R-Really, I’m okay–”

“I’m not letting you walk around with your pussy out. Put it on.”

The vulgarity in his words make your face flush bright red. Steaming so badly you swore you heard the sounds of a kettle whistling in your head. With a shaky sigh, you lift the shirt over your still damp hair and turn to face the bathroom. The cool fabric touches your skin, sending small waves of goosebumps across your arms and legs. Once the shirt was on fully, you pulled the towel out from underneath the shirt and patted down the bum portion and front a little before looking back to Sukuna.

“..N-Now the shorts.” He says calmly, averting his attention from you and tossing over the shorts, sitting on the bed with a hand covering a good portion of his face. “Hurry up. The breakfast I got for you and that twink is gonna get cold.”

“Oh? That’s where you went?”

Pulling up the shorts over your legs and waist, Sukuna nods and slowly starts making his way out of the room. Face still covered in what you could only imagine as pure embarrassment of the situation. Sorry Sukuna..

You made yourself look normal, drying your hair out and applying some lotion you got from the bathroom, before getting out of the room and into the main living area where Gojo was already up and rubbing his sore and sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” He said, a pout to his lip at the sudden disturbance of being awake. “Shower? You smell nice.”

You nod and pet his head, chuckling before heading over to the counter and looking at the breakfast Sukuna claimed to have brought home. He lifts a bag with a bright label and begins pulling out platters. The see-through lids reveal hotcakes with other assortments of breakfast items and some syrup. Sukuna placed these platters on the counter while you stood next to him and watched his movements.

Personally, he thought this was kinda cute. He wouldn’t tell you that though. He’s not that kind of guy to get all mushy over feelings.

So, he settles for a small pat on the head, a ruffling of your still damp hair and hums. “Grab a platter and some utensils. It’s messy too so get a few napkins.”

You raise a brow and look over at the pink haired man, pursing your lips. “I’m not a messy eater, you know that!”

“That’s not what the younger you would say,” Sukuna teases, sitting at the couch– practically crushing Gojo’s legs– and flipping through channels on the TV until he found the news station. Letting your broil in your own embarrassment at the mention of your childhood eating habits.

“Y-You.. Just.. shut up.”

There was a triumphant smirk on his face. He won.

You gathered the remaining food and sat on the floor between the two, handing Gojo a platter as well and starting to eat. Giving thanks for the food before watching the TV as well, grumbling to yourself. “Can’t we watch some cartoons or something? It’s a Saturday!”

“Cartoons are for babies,” Sukuna responded while shoveling down a pancake. Whole. Like a damn snack. “I want to see the weather at least.”

“That’s so old of you,” Gojo huffed. “Be cool for once.”

Sukuna returned with an authoritative grunt and quietly watched the screen as the weather analysis was brought up. “Silence and eat.”

The forecast predicted sunshine during the morning and afternoon with relatively calm winds and decent heat. During the evening though, there was a slight chance of rainfall or a mild thunderstorm. It didn’t matter much to you, seeing as you’ll be at your dormitory gaming with Geto later.

“Nice, now you know what’s gonna happen,” You say, turning your attention back to Sukuna. His maroon eyes turned to you, glazed over with some kind of annoyance. You smirk and lift your hand over your shoulder for the remote, wiggling your fingertips slightly. “May I, sir?”

He takes a deep breath and hands over the remote and slowly goes insane as some cartoons were flipped to. Their annoying intro songs playing and driving him even deeper into a Hell he didn’t wish to go down.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

That day during your classes, they felt like a fever dream.

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Everything went by in a blur, and you kept replaying the events of this morning in your head. Seeing Sukuna in such a calm state, it made your chest ache. You felt a small twinge at the thought of how he was every morning. Borderline obsessing over it.

It wasn’t until you had a talk with Geto did you clear your head.

Kicking someone’s ass at Mario Kart was every child's gamer dream.

Geto’s fingers tapped at the buttons, as did you. Focused on the screen as you discussed your struggling, somewhat creative love life– slash friendship recovery. That’s what it was supposed to be in the first place.

“So.. what you’re saying is..” Geto trailed, turning a sharp corner on the rainbow bridge and grumbling. “..Sukuna saw the goods?”

Your cheeks burn a little and you pout your lips, clicking the toggles and buttons. “No.. He just saw me from out the shower in a towel. He also got breakfast, and then drove me to classes today too.”

Geto side eyes you with a small smile and hums. “Interesting.”

“And then he says to not worry about it and that he’ll return my clothing once they’re done by tomorrow ‘cause he’s going to the gym and he’ll swing by. Swing by? Not only does he do things like this for me, but he also let me keep one of his old shirts! He’s sending mixed signals all the time! He’s more confusing than most of my history homework.”

Geto nods, still focusing his game, he listens with a smirk to his face. His brain worked overdrive just imagining all the drama that was going on. To him, he knew what the problem was. No one told anyone anything, letting the problems arise and fester. Letting their feelings just bubble in their chests but never say anything.

Such a troubled couple. Just talk, not that hard.

“Well, my advice is to relax more around him,” He says quietly, rushing over the finishing line and turning to look at you. “If you let your guard down a little, he’ll open up more– I think anyways. Sukuna’s a tough person, just let him lean on you. He clearly needs that.”

You stare at Geto in silence, somewhat stunned by the advice before nodding a little.

“Alright.”

Geto nods and stands, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a drink to have before heading off to his dorm and going to sleep. You had turned off the console you both played on, removing the game as well and giving your goodnights. Geto returned the pleasantries and headed out, leaving you and your already sleeping roommate alone in the home.

You got to bed rather quickly, showering quickly and putting your things away, changing into your pjs and folding Sukuna’s clothes neatly into your chair. You rolled around in your bed before facing said chair and staring at them, fiddling with your pillow casing and pressing my brows together.

“Sukuna.. What are you thinking..?”

. . .

a/n: how is y'all doing today? i hope you're doing good ^^;; i am currently struggling with my gen psychology class, it's nothing fancy rn but omg does my brain hurt. anyways, if u guys read the top, i have a wattpad now! there's nothing special about it right now since it's got the current fanfictions on there but yeah wanted to lyk!!!

a/n (.2):: i finished my gen psychology class with a B! i'm literally so proud oml but now i gotta struggle with history ~~;;; also, i'm trying to get back into thr groove for writing my drabbles again ~~;; lmao i'm literally so used to writing for fanfictions right now XD

Chapter Song Theme: — Play Date / Melanie Martinez / lyric video

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

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liliawrizz · 1 year

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★ NOTEBOOK ★ : BLOG INFO

LILIAWRIZZ . this blog contains dark content that falls under the yandere category.

"Yandere" is derived from the Japanese words yanderu, meaning insane or sick, and deredere, meaning affectionate or loving. Simply put, a yandere is someone who is lovesick, someone who has been driven to insanity by extreme obsession or love, thus resulting in abnormal behavior if not violence.

O1 . welcome, welcome! this blog is dedicated to SFW & slight NSFW yandere writings. the definition of yandere is written above next to the bullet point!!!

O2 . request status is open at the moment. thus meaning you may send in requests you’d like to see me write. when my request status is closed, please refrain from sending in requests!

O3 . emoji anons are welcome! ex: “may i be known as 💗 anon?” so anytime you send in a request; you’ll sign off with that emoji!!

O4 . id love to make some new friends! please no one under 15 ask to bmf. i feel uncomfy chatting with people younger than that. you can ask to bmf through my request box, messages, or as a comment under my post! (please don’t ask to bmf with anon on!!)

O5 . my tag directory is below! these tags help identify a posts’ purpose. take a look;

#liliawrizz (to show that this is my post / work. featured under every post of mine)

#liliacommuni (not a piece of writing / fanfiction but instead is me just posting a random thought / opinion of mine)

#liliarespo (the tag i’ll feature when answering an anon ask / send in)

O5 b . other tags will be added under a post depending on what fandom i wrote the fanfiction for!

O6 . my writings are all yandere. if that makes you uncomfortable, please go find another blog. i won’t be writing anything but yandere content. if you don’t specify yandere in your ask, i’ll automatically assume it was meant to be a yandere ask. if you send in anything that’s not intended to be yandere, i will delete your ask.

O7 . reader will be GN unless specified to be female. this means no pronouns will be mentioned / specified unless the ask mentions a female reader. i only write for fem and GN reader. any requests that ask for a male reader will be ignored and deleted.

O8 . reader will never be yandere in any of my fanfics. if you’re looking for yandere reader content, you’ll need to find some other blog that’s not mine.

O9 . yandere is always male. i don’t write for fem yanderes since i personally enjoy the concept of male yanderes more.

#liliawrizz #blog info #info #yandere #yandere content #dark content #dark content warning #yandere x reader #character x reader #yandere character x reader #fem reader #gn reader #x reader #fanfiction #blog rules #make sure to read #important info #important announcement

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unovasrose · 1 year

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∗ o8﹕ what time of day do you feel you create your best work ? ∗ 10﹕ is there a piece of your character’s canon that you refuse to accept ? ∗ 11﹕ what is a headcanon you have for rosa, blue, or emi that you haven’t posted ? ∗ 12﹕ do you prefer extensive plotting , or writing things on a whim ?

experience yourself / accepting!

08. Without a doubt, I’m a late-morning writer. Years of working the swing shift and rising early-ish just to write fanfiction sort of molded me into this. Unfortunately, my current work schedule doesn’t really allow for it very often and so I suffer. :’)

10. Canon doesn’t really give me a ton of stuff to work with, at least game-wise, just because I write a protag. There’s plenty of fanon for Rosa that people take as canon, though, and one I’m adamantly against is her being a bubbly, clueless airhead. I will fight it until the day I die.

11. The first one that comes to mind is about Blue and it has to do with Silph, Co. I’ve talked about it a few times with you and I think Psy but I like to think that Blue played a key part in getting Red up to the top of the tower. Part of it was battle support, but the bigger part of it was her dressing up as a Grunt and getting her hand on a Card Key so they could get through the building. She is, of course, also very familiar with the building layout so she’d have been able to help Red navigate the maze within. I don’t know why I haven’t posted this yet.

12. I like a happy medium, at least a little bit of plotting to have an idea of where things should go. Winging things sometimes doesn’t go anywhere and too much plotting sometimes just spoils you and takes away the element of surprise because you know exactly what to expect, if that makes any sense at all.

#🌹 answered.#🌹 ooc.#thanks Reo <3

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amerrierworld · 2 years

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No Spoons Left

Request: could you please write Lou x reader where she feels protected by you when your spooning her and her arms around around yours

Summary: Lou isn’t used to camping!

Characters: Lou Miller x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff! some lovely dove relationship communications

Camping with Lou was an abhorrent idea at first. You didn’t think she’d be able to get out of her high-fashion New York style to peruse the wilderness with you. You, on the other hand, were dying to get out of the city if only for a little while. And convincing your girlfriend to come along was easier said than done.

But then she had nicked a camper van and you found yourself bouncing with glee when she had agreed not to sell it, but to use it.

The trip to the campsite itself was without flaw. Lou drove carefully while you jabbered on about the excitement of being away from city-life again. Lou grinned from behind her large sunglasses as you bustled around in the back with the food and supplies.

It felt a bit cliché to go camping in the autumn with your girlfriend, bringing every plaid blanket you had, many marshmallows, and a tripod for blurry (but aesthetic) photos. The only thing missing would have been a large dog with non-stop slobber and matching bandanas.

Lou, begrudgingly, had to give up her chic street-style for a complete lesbian lumberjack look. Not that you complained. And then once you arrived, she had insisted she would put up the tent when you suggested to spend the first night outside of the van by the campfire. Now, you were leaning against the front of the vehicle, bemused from watching her fight with the tarp and connecting the frame.

Lou’s hair was pulled back with her fringe just brushing her eyelashes. She was wearing flannel and, heavens above, jeans with hiking boots. You grinned over your cup of hot chocolate as she sneered at the manual, kicking it to the side like a dad on a trip refusing to use directions and thus getting hopelessly lost.

“Let me help,” you offered again.

“Absolutely not.” She had too much pride to give in now, even though she had been struggling for close to an hour now.

“Babe, have you really gone camping before?” you asked.

“Totally. We just didn’t use tents back then. We endured the weather throughout the whole night regardless of the conditions.”

“Are you calling me a snowflake for wanting to have shelter in the night?” you scoffed.

“No, but I do think you’ve been way too pampered by the city,” she huffed. Ah yes, a lovely hypocritical response. You looked at your furry hiking boots and luxurious camping outfit and lifted her chin at her.

“I believe you mean pampered by my incessant gift-giving and spoiling girlfriend.”

“Guilty as charged.”

The tent eventually came together, quite sturdily. Dinner consisted of pre-cooked hot dogs and pre-packaged salads you had bought on the road. You already had a stash of canned soups, bread for sandwiches, and enough snacks to last you a life time, but tomorrow you wanted to try to go fishing and see if you could catch a meal that way, just for the sake of the ‘camping spirit’. If unsuccessful, there was a convenience store right by the camping grounds. You had to find a camping location with modern technology and access close by just for the sake of keeping Lou sane when you ran out of her favourite brand of ice tea.

You got in the tent for the night and were surprised by the space of it inside, but not so by the haphazard assembly of the frame, which stuck out in some places.

Lou followed in from behind you, wearing her silk pyjama set and grumbling incoherently. It was cute, you thought, but hopefully she’d cheer up soon otherwise this would be a lousy weekend.

“Lou, why on earth are you wearing that here? You’ll freeze during the night.”

“It’s the only thing I have to comfortably sleep in,” she muttered, shoving herself into a sleeping bag. “I’ll be fine.”

You grinned and settled in next to her, “you’ve never gone camping before, have you?”

She avoided your gaze and blew a piece of hair out of her face. “I’ve disguised myself as a camper before for a con. They seemed pretty convinced.”

You giggled, not trying to laugh at her sour expression. The camping trip was entirely your idea, and Lou would do anything you wanted just to make you happy. This one probably beat all the jewels and cash she stole for you, simply because you got to spend so much time with her without anyone else around you for once.

A twig snapped and the blonde biker shot up from her position, “What was that?”

“Probably just a raccoon. Don’t worry, I put all the food away.”

She seemed unsettled, which surprised you, “Lou, you live in New York where there’s unending noise happening outside. People yelling, cars honking. You’re not telling me you’re frightened of wildlife sounds?”

“Not frightened!” she quipped, a little too quickly to properly convince you. “It’s so much quieter here, and it’s weird.. What am I supposed to do, Y/N? Adjust to it in one night?” She was scowling again and punched her pillow before falling face first into it.

“Move over,” you eventually said, opening her sleeping bag from your side.

“We won’t fit.”

“Nonsense. I made sure it could fit two when I bought them.” You wriggled yourself further down, eventually feeling Lou’s freezing feet press up against your own.

“You didn’t have to come outside to sleep with me tonight. You could stay in the van if you want.”

“And admit to being a wimp in the outdoors? Over my dead body.”

There was another sound from outside, the screech of a fox this time, and her eyes widened. Her shoulders were shaking slightly. You didn’t know if it was from discomfort or the cold, but nonetheless you snuggled closer to her and wrapped your arms around her from behind.

“Hey I thought I was always the big spoon,” she retorted once she realized what you were doing. Despite her sharp words, her body melted and pressed into yours, gladly accepting the warmth and security you offered. All you did was hum and wormed yourself as close to her as possible.

“You’re impossible,” she grumbled, her voice slurring as she slowly drifted off to sleep. You grinned and kiss the back of her head, hugging her tightly as her hand reached up to grip your wrist before you fell asleep alongside her.

Lou woke up to the sound of a fire crackling and the smell of eggs and bacon. She wormed her way out of the tent while remaining inside the sleeping bag because it was still cozy from your warmth and smell.

You were crouching by the fire cooking breakfast and digging through the cooking supplies you had brought. And, well, you had hoped to heat up some soup for yourself to get started and get some energy for a hike today, but the deeper you dug into the cutlery bag, the more you found knives, forks, and nothing else.

“Lou, baby,” you sighed, looking up at the blonde shuffling out of the tent. “You were supposed to bring all the cutlery right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Did you really?”

Her eyes narrowed, “Why don’t you believe me?”

You held up the two bags marked forks and knives without saying anything. When it clicked, she groaned, folding her body into the sleeping bag and burying her face.

“Lucky for you we have at least one big spoon left,” you chortled, scooping out the bacon and eggs onto a plate for her.

“Very funny,” she grumbled. “What did you want to do today?”

“Fishing!”

She looked... you didn’t know the word, but the closest to her facial expression was aghast.

“Oh, Lou,” you sighed, sitting next to her as she ate. “Why did you agree to come if you clearly despise camping?”

“Because I’m trying to show interest in what you like, isn’t that what a good girlfriend does?”

“Sure, sure. But I also don't want to torture you into living in the outdoors for the weekend.”

“I’m trying,” she said again, digging her fork in the paper plate so roughly that it stabbed through.

“Do you wanna just grab a bite to eat for today? I saw a cafe on the way in.”

She looked at you with a conflicted gaze, wanting to say yes, but also wanting to do what you wanted first.

You nudged her with your arm, before continuing, “and then you can bring a hot latte to the shore to drink and watch while I go fishing?”

That made her smile. She sluggishly got out of the sleeping bag to rush to the van and get ready, the silk not saving her from the chilly night air.

“And on the way we can get some spoons!” you commented as you followed her into the van. Seconds later, her pyjama top slapped you in the face, and you giggled as you closed the van door behind you.

A/N: whoopdeedoo i finished it ahahahaa this idea did not go where it was first planned for but alas i digress pls enjoy

#merry writes #lou miller #lou x reader #lou miller x reader #oceans 8 #ocean's eight #oceans8 #o8 #cate blanchett #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral #fanfiction #ocean's 8 fanfiction #fem reader #male reader #camping!

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estel-of-irysi · 2 years

Text

Starry Night - Chapter Four

Starry Night (20379 words) by hope_s

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

Characters: Lou Miller, Debbie Ocean, Tammy (Ocean's), Daphne Kluger, Amita (Ocean's), Nine Ball (Ocean's), Constance (Ocean's), Rose Weil, Danny Ocean Additional Tags: Future AU, Post-Canon, Gravity crossover AU, Pregnancy, Kidfic, Fluff, Processing Trauma, Smut, Light Angst, Near Future, If you haven't seen Gravity it will mostly still make sense, any inconsistencies with Ocean's 8 itself are intentional

Series: Part 3 of Don't Let Go

Summary:

After everything they've been through, the time is finally right to create the future they've always dreamed of.

Preview:

Debbie’s thoughts turned utterly inward, into some deep, dark part of her that was both new and familiar. She had stepped through a door in herself that had always been there, waiting. Behind it the world was close, warm, and black, like being wrapped up in blankets or wrapped up in Lou.

Here’s the final chapter! I hope you all like it! I probably won’t be writing much for a while, with the new baby and everything, but I’ll still be active on here so never hesitate to reach out! I have absolutely loved writing for all of you. <3

#ocean's 8 #debbie ocean #lou miller #loubbie #heist wives #heistwives #ocean's eight #o8 #debbie x lou #lou x debbie #fanfiction #ao3 #hope_s

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magdalenacats · 3 years

Text

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

It's also a Loubbie Fiction 🧚🏼‍♀️🫐🌌💜

#debbie ocean #fanfiction #fanfic #lou miller #lou miller x debbie ocean #loubbie #oceans 8 #o8 #cate blanchett #sandra bullock #daughter #family #wlw ship #wattpad

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blackacre13 · 8 months

Note

I'm obsessed with your proposal AU - could you write a part 7?

Part 15 is here: Part 16 below!!

“Tell us, Bee. I’m sure your grandma wants to hear everything. Was it love at first sight?”

“Not exactly,” Debbie admitted.

“I’ll give Rusty that,” Grandma Ida smiled, grabbing Lou’s hands. “I must know how you proposed, Lou, my dear. I mean, I assume it was you? I apologize if that’s not how it works. I love my dear Deborah, I just can’t quite imagine our little Debbie taking it upon herself to ask and since she has the ring I just—I’ll stop before I put my foot in my mouth. But please, do tell us.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Debbie smiled wickedly. “I know how much you love telling it. And with such vivid detail too. You’re in for a treat, grandma!”

“We’ll see,” Dennis grumbled, looking at Lou with squints eyes before he threw back the rest of his drink.

Lou shot Debbie a not-so-subtle death glare and Debbie knew it was because Lou was now regretting saying no to Debbie when Debbie had suggested running through how to respond to certain scenarios. Like how they got engaged. You know, especially since they were now at their apparent engagement party where everyone was desperate to know how Lou had popped the question.

Debbie had to admit that she liked watching the blonde squirm under the attention. Lou never got shaken. Even the typical celebrity who came through their halls set on making demands of one Lou Miller was quickly silenced with a mere look or raised eyebrow. Lou called the shots. She did things her way. And they could nod and say thank you or go anywhere else. She was good. More than good. And that earned her a rare kind of respect in the industry that had always held Debbie in awe of her and the power she exuded.

But now Debbie knew the blonde was floundering under the attention. Not that anyone else would be able to pick up on that. She still looked poised and confident as ever but Debbie knew she was far from in her element and she felt a pang in her heart.

A couple of days ago she would’ve thought: good. Let her struggle to tie up all these loose ends. This was her game. Her need. And Debbie was just along for the ride. It would be easy to watch Lou flail a bit only ensuring she didn’t bomb and fail their mission completely. But now—now she could see the panic wedged behind the glint of her blue eyes. The thick swallow of her throat. And something that made Debbie gasp aloud before she could stop it—Lou was grabbing Debbie’s hand. And it wasn’t for show. She was gripping it tight like Debbie was holding her hand through a blood draw or getting big news. And automatically, Debbie squeezed back.

We’ve got this. Because they did. They were a team.

Lou’s grip on Debbie’s hand loosened, but she didn’t dare let go and Debbie shuffled closer to her, leaning her head on Lou’s shoulder. Tracing circles into her palm with her thumb. Supporting her partner. Praying it would help and that they could actually get away with all of their bullshitting.

“It was a simple little thing, really,” Lou waved it off. “You know. Popping the question. The usual.”

“You’re being too modest,” Grandma Ida laughed. Debbie was considering saying the same, moreso to give Lou shit and see her think on her feet to come up with something elaborate, but she was trying to take it easy on her. After all, it was enough to already have multiple eyes on them. Her own palms were starting to sweat and her father was making her beyond anxious.

“There were flowers,” Debbie provided, scrambling to come up with something. Anything. That might be able to help jog Lou’s fake memory.

“Yes,” Lou nodded. Debbie felt her squeeze her hand again. She figured it was a thank you. “Rose petals. Red rose petals. I laid them out.”

“And baby,” Debbie cooed, really leaning into it now. “The candles? I mean—“

“But Debbie’s favorite flower isn’t roses,” her mother interjected.

“Yes, of course,” Lou huffed. “Thank you for that,” she smiled through gritted teeth. “I—I—“

“She was so nervous,” Debbie spoke, stepping in to her rescue. “She left the original flowers at home. Had to run out and get some last minute ones to sprinkle. But it didn’t matter,” Debbie assured her, smiling up at her as Lou’s eyes found hers. “It was perfect.”

Lou was silent for a moment. Their eyes still locked. Lou legitimately staring at her with an emotion that Debbie couldn’t quite peg but it made her chest feel all fluttery and she was going from sweaty palms to icy veins fast.

A throat cleared in the distance but Lou still didn’t look away or keep talking. Her eyes wouldn’t leave Debbie’s and while Debbie wanted to analyze this new situation right now immediately, she knew she needed to step in and wrap up the story to save them both.

But Lou didn’t seem to mind drowning at that moment. She seemed fascinated. She seemed like she was just now seeing Debbie for the very first time, her eyes darting between Debbie’s eyes and lips repeatedly, a blush ghosting across her cheeks.

“They’re so in love,” Grandma Ida whispered, her eyes tearing up. “Our Lou can’t even find words she’s so taken with our Deb.”

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sakuraryomen01 · 1 year

Text

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Female Reader/ .o7

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, sukuna gets a hangover + sick!, being ignored(-ish???), talking about that kiss, pizza and wings with your roomie [brief]

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

words: 3.826k

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

a/n:: I started writing this chapter while I was finishing up chapter .o6 lolol!! also, tell me if u're not getting tagged in the chapters so that i can fix it! thx for the support and i hope you guys enjoy reading this fanfiction to the end! ❤

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy~

. . .

After you had woken up from last night in Sukuna’s arms, you got up to take a small shower. Even though you didn’t want to think about it, it made its way into your mind. What Sukuna had said, the way he touched your body and kissed your neck. Why he mumbled little things like “you’re mine” made your heart ache.

How could you give up on Sukuna when he says things like that?

Reaching down to grab some shampoo, you slick your hair back and start to lather the soapy substance into your hair. You lift your head back and scrub all the worries and thoughts from your mind.

But wishing the thoughts away, or the touches you shared, wasn’t going to change anything. Yes, you managed to defuse the situation, but it wasn’t with a little work.

Sukuna’s mumbling replayed in your mind as you finished washing last night’s events off. Quickly grabbing one of his shirts to borrow and wearing your pants from the night before, you went to his kitchen and looked for something that’d be good for a hangover and breakfast.

You had managed to find some eggs and bacon, adding in some coffee as a drink for Sukuna. Eventually, the sounds of Sukuna showering surfaced as you were plating the meal and adding some butter to a slab of toast you just finished toasting.

"Morning," You heard Sukuna grumble from the hallway.

Seeing that he was clearly hungover and hungry, you guided him to his living room and placed his meal and coffee onto the coffee table in front of him. Also giving him a pat on the back, you went to grab your food to join him. He wasn’t visibly upset by the events of the other night, making you wonder if he really cared at all what happened.

Wasn’t it nerve wracking for him too? Didn’t it make him upset or nervous?

You didn’t get your answer for another few days. Not a text, nor a call. Even during classes, Sukuna was either not attending or he was taking a sick day. It worried you, since he had started skipping his tutoring lessons too. Concerned for his health, and all around well-being, you decided that stopping by with a few gifts would make him feel better.

After classes and work, you took another moment to send Sukuna a text that you’d be stopping by for a few minutes with some Advil for his headache. Although you felt it was cringey, you grabbed him some stomach medicine as well, making your way over to the male’s dorm a little after 10:30 pm.

You knocked on the door of Sukuna’s dorm and patiently waited for some kind of sign that he was home, and awake. Though, you doubted after a while of waiting. Making you wonder if he was intentionally ignoring you after the kiss. You didn’t blame him, if you kissed him and told him he was yours, you’d want to stop talking to him out of embarrassment.

“Sukuna?” You tried after a minute or two of waiting, knocking again before there was a click and the door began to slowly creak open.

Seeing a tired, and disgruntled Sukuna behind it, with messy hair and hoods under his eyes, you let out a small coo of pity. He looked worn out and stressed, making you feel guilty for making him look like this. Sukuna, though, took a breath and mumbled a small greeting before letting you into his home.

“I’m sorry about not going to class,” He finally said, as if to defuse the awkwardness between you. “I haven’t been feeling well, I might’ve caught some bug.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, looking around the living room and seeing tissues strewn across the couch and coffee table. “I thought it was something else. Sorry for bothering you, I just came to tell you about the assignments you were missing.”

Sukuna hummed, sitting back down on his small throne of warm blankets and dirty tissues. “Ah, alright. I noticed you texted me too. Did you really bring Advil? It’d help right about now..”

You nod and sit next to Sukuna on the couch, handing him the bag you brought with you. Inside sat a small container of Advil, a bottle of water, some quick and easy to make chicken noodle soup. He looked at the bag’s contents before handing you the soup and taking out the water and medicine.

“Can you make this for me?” He asked, opening the Advil and water, taking a pill and a sip before laying back on the pillow he had under his head. “You can make yourself something too, but I haven’t been shopping yet.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” You said, standing and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll go out while you’re asleep to get you some things!”

You heard a grunt of disapproval that made you giggle, grabbing a pot from the cupboard and turning on the heat. Turning your attention to Sukuna, you see him lying face up with a pained expression. He looked more tired and ill than you’ve ever seen him before; even as a child it was hard for Sukuna to even get something small.

Half the time, you thought he was invincible while you got the cold a lot during the snowy season.

“The soup should be done in a few minutes,” You announced, walking around the living room and gathering the dirty tissues that littered the room. Grimacing, Sukuna nodded as you got closer. “Let me get your temperature too, just to be safe.”

“Fine,” He grumbled, taking a few steady breaths as you sat down and pressed a cold hand to his forehead. “Mm, your hand feels really nice.”

“‘Cause you’re burning up!” You exclaimed, quickly standing to grab the chicken noodle soup and return with a bowl prepared for Sukuna to eat. “Here, eat some of this okay? I’ll go get you some food for your fridge.”

Sukuna shook his head, sitting up to start eating. “No, that’s fine. I already feel pathetic for your help enough.”

Pathetic? Sukuna? Nah, that couldn’t be true.

“Don’t get all stubborn and pissy with me,” You said, a firm frown placed on your face as Sukuna ate. “Just because you’re sick doesn’t make you pathetic.”

There was a distant look that crossed Sukuna’s face before he went quiet and put down the bowl of soup. “It’s not that I’m sick.”

After waiting for a few minutes for an explanation, you dropped the conversation even though you knew exactly what he was talking about. That kiss. He probably regretted it, or thought what he said was stupid and childish. You pat Sukuna’s shoulder as he looks up at you, a confused expression now on his face.

“Now’s not the best time to talk about that,” You muttered, smiling warmly at the grumpy man. “You need to focus on getting better, and then tutoring for the next few days. Alright?”

Sukuna slowly nods, taking in your words. You didn’t need an explanation right now. Waiting a little while wouldn’t kill you.

“..Okay,” Sukuna muttered, finishing his food and laying back down. Watching you stand and gather your things before leaving the small apartment like home.

You left the male’s dorm to go grab some more medicine when you got a text message. Quickly, you climbed into your car and picked up your phone. It was from Yuji. Thinking back, it had been almost a month since you had last spoken to him on the phone. That is, if you included all the studying you were doing for tests and such.

Yuji- Hey, Y/n! I was wanting to ask you something about Sukuna?

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering if Sukuna had told him about what happened. Maybe he did? No, he’d probably keep something like that secret. Then again, you barely know him now. You’d never know.

You- Yeah? What’s up?

You also added another small excuse for your absence and you almost immediately got a response. The conversation started with Yuji asking about Sukuna’s grades, which you thought were pretty tame and understandable, so you told him point blank what was happening.

You- Sukuna’s kinda struggling in some classes, so my professor asked for me to tutor him. He’s getting better though. Did he tell you he got sick at all?

Yuji- Ah man! That explains it I suppose… I was wondering where he went after telling me what happened between y’all. ><;;

And just like that, you knew your suspicions were confirmed. With a sigh, you asked what he meant for confirmation:

Yuji- He told me about that party. He said something to a guy named Fushiguro about you and him. It was a really random convo, but I thought you knew already?

You were kind of confused for a moment, although you did see them talking you assumed it was about something else. Never did you think it was about you and Sukuna. Starting up the car, you dialed Yuji’s number and waited for him to answer. After a few moments, Yuji’s cheerful voice rang from your phone and you put the device to your cheek. Pulling out of the parking lot, you ask Yuji what Sukuna had talked about.

“It’s the first time we’ve talked on a phone!” Yuji chuckled. “A little weird, but I think I’ll get used to it, haha!”

You laughed with Yuji, starting to drive to the drug store. “I know, it’s a little weird for me too.”

There was a small silence before Yuji brought up the conversation Sukuna had with him.

“He told me that Fushiguro gave him some advice about y’alls relationship. Something like, ‘Just tell her what you’re feeling’, I think. Knowing my brother though, he’d keep all those feelings inside, and nudging him would just piss him off.”

You nodded, as if Yuji would see it, pulling into the parking lot of a local grocery store. The lights were dim, but it was quite apparent to you that it was still open. You unbuckled yourself and stepped out of the car, quickly putting your keys away and making note of what to buy.

“Sorry if this is really sudden, but..” You mumbled, walking through the rows of parked cars and vacant spots, lowering your voice slightly. “How were you and Sukuna after I left?”

You were rewarded with a small silence, a sigh and then a response: “It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated things, Yuji.”

He grumbled, but you understood why. The situation that they were in while you all lived there was rather harsh. Sukuna and Yuji’s dad was in a constant drunken state, making your parents worry a little about your safety and their’s. Often offering help to the boys whenever they needed a break from their father’s yelling and abuse. Although they couldn’t take Sukuna and Yuji in, they ended up like their second parents.

Sukuna and Yuji loved your parents as much as they adored you, and it filled you with guilt now that you were unable to mend things for the past. Even though you couldn’t, you were determined to make it up to Sukuna, to Yuji.

Half of you felt like you were trying to mend your own broken ego, but the other half was telling you that you owed it to them. Unable to swallow down that guilt, you began to accept it as Yuji started to talk to you about the events that transpired after your move.

“While I didn’t have many problems other than our old man, Sukuna kinda..” Yuji trailed, exhaling probably a lot of emotions he didn’t want to feel. “He went out of control, really.

“He got into lots of fights at school, got suspended a lot. Sometimes, he’d yell at me when he wasn’t in a good mood. Started smoking with the older kids. It was a lot for him.”

There was another pause as you got into the shopping area, pushing a cart in front of you and looking at the items that lined the shelves. Looking from ramen to other assorted things you felt were alright, you began to pile some basic things into the cart.

“Sukuna almost dropped out,” Yuji cut into your train of thought, making you stop suddenly in shock. Phone shaking in your hand and making some passerby glance at you with a confused and concerned look on their faces. “He didn’t, don’t worry. He made it to college, didn’t he?”

You pressed your brows and lips together and a frustrated pout. He’s barely passing though. He was gone for a lot of the year and is taking even more sick days right now.

You didn’t tell Yuji this, seeing as it’d worry him. “Y/n?”

“Sorry, I’m shopping right now,” You say sheepishly, laughing weakly as you make your way over to another aisle and looking through a bunch of small pre-made meals that Sukuna might enjoy. “Go ahead, continue.”

“Alright.” Yuji responded, although he whined about bothering you which made you smile. “So, now, I suppose you can say that he’s doing well. He’s still smoking and shit, but that’s expected since it’s a habit. He’s working on it though.”

You let out a small hum, looking through the protein section, gathering what you thought would be good for some breakfast meat. Once Yuji voiced his concern about your silence, you reassured that you were alright.

“I promise, Yu.” You said, stopping once again as you continued to chat on the phone. “Sorry for bringing that stuff up again for you, I know it can be a little hard to talk about it–”

“It’s okay,” Yuji says in an attempt to calm you, with a boyish giggle ringing out from your speaker. “To be completely honest, it helped me relax a little while talking about it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A burn in your heart rested heavy in your chest. The feeling of guilt and worry made you ache, knowing that Sukuna had every right to want nothing to do with you. But the gratitude you felt for it was unimaginable. It was like it lifted your spirits, knowing Sukuna was still there to help if something went wrong. Yuji and you continued to talk on the phone for another few minutes– more like an hour or so –until you were in line to purchase your items.

Once you got to the cashier, you smiled. “I’ll see ya soon, Yuji.”

“Mhm, c’ya!”

“Having a good day, hun?” said the woman at the register. Her messy dark hair up in a very loose bun. Her dark eyes shimmering with a sleepy delight.

“Yea, it’s alright so far,” You answered as she started scanning your items. Looking through your pocket, you pulled out your wallet and began looking for your card. “I’ll be paying with a card.”

She nods at this, bagging things up as she rang your receipt and total. In the midst of this, you looked down at the shirt that you had borrowed from Sukuna. Realizing quickly that you still needed to return it even if you didn’t really want to. It smelled just like him, an almost calming smell that made your heart flutter.

“22.35 is your payment.”

Running the card through the small scanner, you started grabbing bags and piled them back into the cart. Tugging at the ends of the large shirt and pushing the shopping cart outside to where you parked. It had been almost twenty minutes since you got to the store when your phone buzzed with a notification in your back pocket.

You got back into the vehicle and paused to look at the message, seeing Sukuna’s name on your lock screen. “He texted me?”

He’s so sick, I hope he doesn’t end up pushing himself..

The text consisted of a small thank you and to text him when you were finished. While you didn’t think it was much, you decided to text him back.

You– I just got finished. I’ll be coming by shortly. I need to return your shirt to you too lol

Starting up the engine once again you pulled out of the parking spot, making your way over to the main road and turning on your blinker. Your phone buzzed again, but you decided to wait until you got to your college before looking at it. Thoughts raced through your head as you drove back home.

What should you tell Sukuna when you see him? Apologizing wouldn’t do much since it’s already too late, it’d be worth the shot though. You sigh, slowing down as you near your destination.

Sitting in the car quietly and taking a moment to breath and work through all the events that’s happened. You pick up your phone and see Sukuna’s name again, unlocking the device and going to messages to see his text.

Sukuna– Keep it. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it anyways.

There was a small tingle in your body, a shiver that ran up your spine. Unable to make out what this shiver was, you looked down at the dark clothing piece. Seeing an old band name with a few small holes in the bottom of the shirt around the hem, ending just at your mid thigh. It was worn out, a random shirt you grabbed, but it felt like it was more than that to you.

You responded with a small okay, quickly getting out of the car and collecting the groceries. It took a few tries, but you managed to get all the things you purchased up to the male’s dorm.

“Sukuna, I’m back,” Knocking on the door, you waited for a few moments with shaky arms. The weight of all the food was making you tired at this point, and when Sukuna opened the door you rushed inside to put the bags on the counter.

“Haahh!! Finally!”

A shocked expression was written on the sick man’s face mixed with an amused smirk. He closed the door and made his way over to you, looking through all the bags and then at you, taking in your panting figure and chuckling weakly.

“I told you before, you didn’t need to do this.”

“Shush, just accept it,” You sighed, with a small smile on your face in return.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and put down the blanket that covered him on the couch before he started helping you put up things. You bickered and whined about him helping you, but he told you it didn’t matter and that it’d be done faster if he helped. Reluctantly, you agreed and continued putting things in the fridge.

After everything was put away, you turned back and bumped into Sukuna. His maroon eyes angled downward, connecting with yours. Silence clouded over you and him, the air becoming thick again as you both stood in the middle of his kitchen.

“Y’know that it was nothing, right?” He eventually mumbled, his breathing low and voice deep. Sukuna’s words made your stomach churn, an uncomfortable feeling that you didn’t really like boiling in the pit of your gut.

You averted your eyes, pressing your lips together and breaking eye contact. Despite your silence, he continued, crossing his arms as well. “I was drunk, and acted without thinking.”

“..Thought so,” You mumbled quietly, clasping your hands behind your back. “I’ll see you later.”

It had been days since it had happened, and bringing it up so suddenly made you uncomfortable. Your heart ached, your stomach hurt. Everything was in pain. It tore you to bits, but you understood where he was coming from.

He doesn’t want me to get my hopes up.

So, after you had gotten your things and said a quick goodbye, you headed over to your dorm. A heavy heart laid bare in your chest, an ache that you felt wouldn’t be able to heal by tomorrow. With each step farther and farther away from him made the strings inside pluck a sad tune. You had denied you wanted any sort of thing for Sukuna, and for it to be returned, but even so you felt the pain was too much. Too much for your fragile heart, weak mind.

Unlocking the door to your home, you pushed open the door to the smell of pizza and chicken.

“Shoko?” You try, taking a few steps inside and looking around before spotting her in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting some things made for you.” She answered, pushing a place of your favorite pizza and some hot wings with ranch towards you on the counter. “You were missing for a few days, hun. Got me wondering what happened to you.”

With a distasteful sigh, you grab the plate and make your way into the living room and she follows. Sitting on the couch with you and waiting silently to hear any form of a response. You didn’t want to talk, but letting the heartache sit and fester like a disease wouldn’t do you any good.

“I visited Sukuna,” You finally mumble, taking a bite of pizza and letting the flavors sit in your mouth for a moment before swallowing. “He’s sick, so I brought him a few things and some food.”

“...And?” She pressed, scooting closer while her show continued to play on the T.V.

“And nothing. I just said goodbye and will see him later.”

The response obviously didn’t make her happy, her brows pressing together slightly before she huffed and rested her cheek on your fist. Letting her elbow hang from the top of the couch, relaxing her body into the cushions. “That’s odd. Aren’t y’all a thing?”

You cringed. Getou probably said something like that. No, Gojo.

“No. Just friends.”

Shoko shrugged, stealing one of your wings and looking at the T.V. “You two looked like you were dating.”

Whatever that meant, you didn’t let it get to you. No matter how much it made you blush or it made the feelings in your tummy churn. “You and Getou have lost brain cells.”

After you had eaten and said goodnight to Shoko, you made your way into the bathroom and got into the shower. Washing your hair and face, making sure to try and relax despite the fact Shoko’s words didn’t leave you.

“You two looked like you were dating.”

She’s just seeing things then! You said to yourself, pouting your lip a little. Her and Getou acted like a couple too, but it’s not like they were actually dating. They were just fuck buddies that got high together whenever he visited.

Sukuna and I are too different to be dating.

Sukuna doesn’t forgive me either.

Once dried off and dressed, you went into your bedroom to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come easily when you felt a sting in your chest and a never ending flow of nightmares that kept you on your toes.

a/n: i've been worried that my tagging isn't really working >_>;;; but i'll try retagging as many as possible so that you guys get the reading you wanted! ik chapter .o6 was a lot, seeing as we've got a long way to go before the ending, but i wanted some action so that it doesn't get too boring and plain. anyways, thx for the support and hope to see you guys soon! ❤

Chapter Song Theme: — Stela Cole - Love Like Mine (Lyrics) - YouTube

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

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periwinklepuple · 4 years

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hey ocean 8 fandom, i wrote a thing

#Ocean 8 #o8 #rophne #rose weil #daphne kluger #ship #fanfiction #wlw #please check it out #🌈writes

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ricochetmoon · 3 years

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

#fanfiction #fanfiction is hard #writing is hard #o8 fanfic #text post #about me

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widomauked · 4 years

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

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

#this is where i’ve been #lou x debbie #ocean’s 8 #oceans 8 #o8 #o 8 #ocean’s eight #oceans eight #lou miller #debbie ocean #loubbie #heistwives #mine #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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dulciscoeur · 5 years

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

Lapses

Chapter 1: Conquest

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

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

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

Maybe she is.

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

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

Chapter 2: War

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

Lou suspects the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3: Famine

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

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

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

Still.

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

No such luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until now.

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

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

“I’ll hurt y--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 4: Death

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, but then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He says it might make her feel better.

It... doesn’t.

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

“Yeah, to you,” she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s hard.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that everything you need?”

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” she says, flat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence expands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Although in moments like these, Debbie regrets their decision.

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

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

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

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

“Lou,” she says. Sorry, she means.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two things happen:

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

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

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

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

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

Lou wavers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost, anyway.

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

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

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

Fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” Lou says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#fanfiction #my fics #O8's fanfic #ocean's 8 #debbie ocean #lou miller

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