#...Man I feel like I usually have so much more to say here

[lcriedlastnight]

Hii! I have a request:

Lando's 'friend' (who actually has a crush on him) is rude to his girlfriend (Reader), and reader doesn't say anything because she doesn't want to cause problems. But Lando finds out somehow and decides to show his 'friend' just how much he loves his girlfriend.

I see it more as a kind of smut, but whatever you're comfortable with is fine!

hi! tysm, i don't think i'm completely comfortable with smut, sorry!!

if you see any mistakes you actually didn't because i don't make mistakes that's actually just how those words and spelled now.

1.5k words

"does she not bother you?" carlos asks you as he watches her throw herself all over your boyfriend. you watch along as well because what were you supposed to do? you sure as hell weren't saying anything to him, they had been friends longer than you had even known lando and you were not the type of girlfriend who told her boyfriend who he can and can't friends with, even if one of them is so clearly throwing herself at him and does not want a platonic relationship with him.

"it just baffles me how he doesn't even notice it. he's completely oblivious. it's insane." you reply back to the spaniard. "she's so rude to me too. i don't think she's ever been nice to me."

carlos scoffs, knowing all too well what she was like, i mean he's had to deal with her for a great deal longer than what you've had to. you're heart does go out to him, poor boy.

before carlos can actually reply to you though, lando makes his way over and of course she is hanging off his arm, like usual. you've never said anything to lando before because you can see every single way that the conversation goes pear shaped but she is acting like she's the one dating your boyfriend and you're just clinging onto him. if nothing it's embarrassing for you and you're friends hadn't been as kind when they told you how looked from the outside.

lando walks over to stand right beside you with his 'best friend' on his other side. carlos give you a look that almost makes you laugh. it was supposed to be a serious look but carlos did not pull it off as effectively as he would've wanted with the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"hey." you greet them both, giving lando a little side hug then taking your arms off him completely. lando looks confused but he doesn't even get the chance to say anything about it because she is opening her mouth and her voice hurts everyone's ears, you're sure of it.

"you not even gonna say hello to your mans best friend?" she slurs, you aren't sure how much she's had to drink but it explains how handsy she was tonight. she's never usually this bold when you were around.

"i did, i was saying hello to you both." you try to clear up. being sober you were not in the mood to argue with some drunk girl who so clearly wanted what you have.

"mhm, sure. you just wish that you and lan are as close as we are!" she giggles. carlos can't even hold in the noise he makes at that and he knows that he has to leave before he says something he might regret in the morning. he leaves with a 'goodbye mate' to lando and a sympathetic look to you, feeling bad for you leaving you.

"why aren't you drinking, lanny?" she asks, voice all high pitched it makes your ears ring. god, you have never wanted to leave somewhere as quick as you did here.

lando gives you a look that you don't have time to decipher before he turns back around to her to answer.

"well, we are going out tomorrow and i don't want to have hangover tomorrow." it's a simple explanation and it's the exact same he had told you when you were both getting ready at his. she grunts and grips his bicep maybe a little too tight for a friend, but again, what were you to do about it?

"ugh, you should just drink! remember when we used to go out partying all night? those were the days huh? no one tying us down?" this tips you over the edge and you decide that it's maybe better for you to leave before you can't control your words or actions anymore.

"i think i'm going to head home." you tell lando, no explanation. lando frowns - you can tell he wants to ask you whats wrong but he can't because she's literally pulling him away from you and towards the bar with what you can only describe as an evil smile on her face.

you decided that lando has to know. this conversation was not going to be easy.

★・・・・・・★

after talking to lando you realise that he actually did start to notice how weird she was acting so it did make you feel a little better. what you weren't looking forward to though was a dinner to celebrate her birthday that you had both been invited to. you were kind of surprised that you had even been invited but still you both decided to dress up and attend the fancy dinner.

lando had promised you in the car that he wasn't putting up with her bullshit tonight and he was just going to tell her directly - her birthday or not. it didn't make you want to attend the dinner anymore than before though.

as lando pulls the car into a parking space around the side of the building, he pulls the hand break up and pulls your hand into his with a promising look in his eyes.

"i know you really didn't want to come tonight - you don't know how much it means to me that you have. i promise the minute she starts i'll call her out and put a stop to it. in front of everyone if i have to." the look in his eyes is enough to tell you that his words hold meaning so you believe him and let his press a sweet kiss to your hand before he;s running around the front of the car to open your car door for you and lead you into the restaurant.

making your way inside you catch the eyes of all of her posh, stuck up friends and they all give you the exact same dirty look that, if it was anyone else, would've made you curl up and wish the night to end so you could go home and cry about it but that was not on the cards for tonight, so you put on a brave face and walk towards the two free seats, clinging onto lando's hand. he gives you a quick squeeze.

the dinner doesn't actually go too bad, but you think that's because you aren't seated close enough to her for her to actually interact with you or lando. you both just keep to yourselves until the end of the night approaches and offers of heading to a nearby club to celebrate further are being thrown around the table like confetti from a canon.

"you'll come out with us, right?" you hear her call from the other end of the table, she was always so desperate to make conversation with lando she would scream at him from miles away. it wouldn't take an idiot to notice lando's discomfort so that's when he decides to excuse himself and head to the toilets to 'freshen up', leaving you alone in your own personal version of hell.

the table was loud, it had been all night but you can hear the words she brags loudly, almost like she wanted you to hear over the bustling crowd surrounding you.

"yeah she's just place holder, lando told me that i was the one for him and that he's just looking for an excuse to throw her to the curb!" her voice is as shrill as usual, maybe even more.

you don't think yourself to be a secure person much but you think this moment may go down as the one moment in your relationship with lando that you think that you are the girl you would pick over anyone else. you feel the rage boil up inside you and just before you can stand up to call her out of her complete and utter bullshit of a lie, a hand is resting softly on your shoulder and before you know it you get a fleeting glimpse of your boyfriend's cheeky smile before he is practically eating you whole.

you and lando have had your fair share of passionate kisses throughout the course of your relationship but every single one of them had been in the privacy of one of your homes, so to kiss him like this where anyone could see, where she could see? it filled you with so much joy and possessiveness that you could never imagine you were even capable of.

lando pulls away with a smile but is leaning back in for a few more quick kisses like he can't get enough of you before he is properly pulling away and holding a hand out for you to take. the entire table is silent, the first time the whole night you think. holding your hand just like when you both arrived, lando throws some cash on the table.

"that's for our meals, thanks for the invite but i don't think we'll be seeing each other again...ever." lando says before practically dragging you to the car, desperate to get you home.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch3: grade a(sshole) || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

The sounds of metal clanging and engines revving are somehow more grating than usual as Sukuna hangs the phone back on the wall. His head rests against the smooth surface beside the phone and he lets out a deep sigh, thankful you can’t see the frustration strewn across his face. Of fucking course Uraume’s in class right now and really, why had he ever expected his uncle to pick up? If he were good for anything, Sukuna wouldn’t be a parent to his siblings while in college.

“Ryomen! I need a hand!”

He rolls his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension in his body from having no other choice but to call you, the source of all of his problems as of late, before pushing off the wall. He doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to his colleague, ignoring the man’s questioning. Just like everyone else in his life, his colleague doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The day drags on for Sukuna. He’s sluggish and worn out, covered in a sheen of sweat and grease and he can feel the oil he accidentally combed through his hair without thinking while speaking on the phone with you.

And then there’s you. Why the fuck won’t you leave his head? Why the fuck did he have to loosen and re-tighten the bolts on a set of tires because the thought of you had distracted him so much he’d tightened them a few too many times? Why had he done it on multiple tires?

As the day wraps up and he leaves the shop, the cool night air is welcome on his skin. He lets out a sigh as he begins to walk home, running a hand through his tousled hair once again. The feeling of oil coating his bare hand leaves him with a scowl and he wipes it on his coveralls, but they have enough grease on them that it hardly helps. His lip curls in disgust as he shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at the sidewalk as he makes his way back to his apartment.

The walk is too short to deliberate what the hell he’s even gonna say to you when he knows for a fact he owes you. Again. Yet that’s hardly the issue, when he knows he hurt you when he saw you last and now here he is asking for a favor. Fuck, how it pisses him off.

His hand pauses over his front door before he knows it, letting out a sigh as he unlocks the door and pushes through. He’s met immediately with the sight of you, dressed in a skirt and a beige knit sweater sitting on the couch. He goes to drop his keys on the table beside the door but pauses before they can clatter on the wood as he realizes Choso is sound asleep on top of you.

He sucks in a sharp breath, meeting your gaze. The world seems to hold its breath as you both stare at one another, completely silent.

“Hey,” your voice is smaller than you intended as you decide to break the tense silence. Sukuna’s piercing gaze flickers between you and Choso before he finally shuts the door behind him, his expression unreadable.

“They fell asleep?” He grunts.

Grimacing as he blatantly ignores your greeting, you nod. “Yeah. Choso wanted one more movie, but-” you pause, casting a glance at the young boy. “He didn’t make it long.”

Sukuna takes a step forward to look at the TV, quietly playing The Iron Giant. “That’s his favorite.”

You nod slowly, but your eyes never once leave Sukuna. He looks tired as ever again, like he hasn’t had a break in a long time, but you know better than to offer help now. That, and the way he hurt you still hangs over your head even if you aren’t upset with him.

“He really likes sad movies,” you comment in an effort to cut through the tension in the air, but it hardly helps, enveloping you in its grasp once more.

A puff of air leaves Sukuna’s nose in an acknowledging laugh. “You watched The Land Before Time didn’t ya?” There’s a hint of a smile on his face that you mirror back at him despite the lingering unease.

“And Pokemon.”

Sukuna’s brow raises as he nods. “Yeah. Dunno why, he’s always liked those three.”

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you offer a teasing smirk. “Maybe he takes after you. These are all your movies, aren’t they?”

Sukuna looks between the TV and you again, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Staring down at his hand that he forgot was covered in oil, he huffs at the realization that it’s now on his face. “They were,” he mindlessly answers, turning back towards you. He gently sets his keys on the table, noting the fact that you have a little smirk and are very obviously staring where he just wiped his hand. Yeah, he has oil on his forehead. “D’ya mind staying while I shower? I’ll be ten minutes. I’ll carry Cho to his room after.”

“That’s fine, you could use a showe-”

“Shut- your mouth, Prom Queen,” he quietly hisses, his tone lacking the aggravation of someone truly frustrated.

You shoot him a small smile, laughing quietly as a semblance of normalcy finally returns. When he kicks off his shoes and pads quietly further into the apartment, disappearing into the washroom, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting this to be uncomfortable, but you’d expected Sukuna to be as brash and vexing as usual, not whatever this is. The palpable tension, the somber silence and the complete and utter lack of frustration from Sukuna- it’s like you’re treading through a potential minefield, yet now you have no clue what could set him off this time. Do you even owe him that given how he snapped at you when you last saw him?

Throwing your head against the back of the couch, you sigh, deciding to give your attention back to the movie to force yourself not to get overwhelmed by your own overthinking. Choso shuffles in your arms, snoring softly as his hair falls over his face.

The sounds of doors opening and closing only a few minutes later makes your heart speed up when Sukuna emerges after a moment, dressed in a tight black tank top that hardly leaves anything to the imagination and gray sweatpants. You blink a few times as you make a conscious effort not to stare at his abs but god is it hard.

It’s almost like your mind forgets that you’re upset with him because he’s just that attractive, and that only makes your cheeks heat up because, come on. You’re better than this. Swallowing, you force yourself not to look at his bulging biceps or the veins in his forearms or the obvious six pack that the tank top doesn’t hide one bit. Why is it so tight anyway? Is he showing off?

But Sukuna hardly seems to notice your turmoil, his usual frown plastered on his face as he runs a hand through his hair, now oil-free. He closes the distance between you as he crosses the living room in two easy strides, standing tall in front of you.

“How’s Yuji?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“He’s been asleep most of the day but he didn’t throw up after I got here. He had a couple of spoonfuls of soup but he’s not hungry.”

He nods. “Good. I think.” Tense silence settles between you and you have to avert your gaze as you grow uncomfortable. “I’ll take Cho to his bed,” Sukuna mumbles, effortlessly lifting the young boy into his arms. Choso doesn’t so much as shuffle as Sukuna carries him to his and Yuji’s room. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you stare in the direction Sukuna left. He’s back in only a few moments, looking relieved as ever that the day is over.

“Um, are you o-” you begin, realizing too late that both you and Sukuna have begun talking at the same time.

“You can go home.”

You stare at one another with wide eyes as you both speak over one another. Laughing uncomfortably, you chew on your lip. “You don’t want to talk about…?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows. There’s his irritation. Of course he would think the best thing to do is avoid the subject entirely.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks in an impatient tone as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Your lips part as you search for words, treading carefully now that you have Sukuna’s attention. “You were a dick,” you offer as a starter, knowing that of all of the things you could say, this wouldn’t actually bother him that much.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sukuna mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re still being a dick.”

He pauses this time, narrowed eyes observing the way you’re fiddling with your nails and chewing on your lip. He sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m an asshole,” he agrees. “I-” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his eyes in exasperation. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, somewhat muffled as he rubs his hand over his face.

Your eyes widen, blinking once, twice, three times at him. In your experience with him, he usually avoided apologies and thanks, as though they taste bitter on his tongue. Even now, he seems to be avoiding the subject as best as he can, muttering it behind his hand like the weight of the word is too much to bear.

“I didn’t get everything handed to me on a silver platter, you know.”

Sukuna stares out the window across the apartment. “Didn’t think ya did.”

“Then why did you say it?” You ask, tilting your head.

“‘Cause I was pissed, okay? I apologized already,” he grumbles, wanting to be done with this conversation. Everything about it makes his skin crawl between the way your brows are knit together and the hurt that glimmers in your eyes to the way you look so small and uncertain in front of him. God, the way his throat tightened when he saw his little brother asleep on top of you too, his hair stood on end in discomfort at the feeling.

He doesn’t know what to make of you and he hates that he pushed you away only to need you. To need your help. To embarrassingly need to call you three times and grovel for you to look after his brothers that only you know about because you just keep slithering your way into his life. He wants to blame it so badly on you being a pain in the ass, but you’re not. You’re kind. You’re kind and thoughtful and you’re only here because you’re a good person.

You’re still here even after he treated you as though you were replaceable, because you’re a better person than he could ever be.

Sukuna sighs loudly in exasperation, rubbing his temples. “Just… fuckin’ ignore me, okay? I was just taking shit out on you.”

“Like a dick.”

Sukuna lowers his hand from his face, staring at you with narrowed eyes. “Do you just really want me to say I was a dick?”

You tilt your head with a saccharine sweet smile. “Mhmm.”

“Does it really make that much of a fuckin’ difference?”

“I want to hear you say it.” Your tone has a teasing sort of charm to it that has him huffing and puffing in front of you.

“You gonna forgive me if I do?”

“I’ll think about it,” you grin back at him.

“Fuck, fine. Fine. I was a dick.”

You giggle as the burly man scowls at you, crossing his arms over his broad chest again. Once your laughter subsides, you offer a more sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry too, Sukuna. I shouldn’t have pushed you to begin with.”

His brow twitches as you apologize. He can’t in his right mind figure out why you think you would need to apologize for his outburst when really you weren’t all that pushy. The last thing he needs right now is to get stuck in this conversation that feels as though it’s physically bringing him pain for any longer than necessary, so he lets it go with a hum.

“Did the brats give you a hard time?”

You shake your head, relieved as the tension fades and Sukuna takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, legs spread as he slumps into the cushions. “Yuji was crying when I got here, but he quieted down pretty quickly. Choso seemed a bit worried but he helped me cook and just wanted to watch movies,” you twist your body to face him as you speak.

He sighs, an elongated curse falling from his lips as he stares at the ceiling. “I owe ya. I already paid the sitter, but I’ll-”

“Don’t worry about it!”

He stares at you like you’ve grown another limb. “What? This shit took up your whole day.”

“I like spending time with them,” you insist with a shrug. “They remind me of simpler times.”

“What if you get sick?” At this point, Sukuna is reaching for something, anything, so that you’ll give in to him. But that’s just not who you are, is it? You’re selfless and kind, and you won’t accept anything he throws at you and that thought absolutely wrenches his gut. It twists in a type of discomfort that’s becoming entirely too familiar and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Then I get sick. Oh well,” you shrug again, shooting him that same sweet smile from earlier.

A muscle in his jaw tightens as he stares at you. “Are you always this much of a pain?”

You scoff humorously. “I don’t take your money and I’m a pain?” Your tone is teasing as you lean towards him.

“A pain,” Sukuna emphasizes the word as he stretches an arm along the sofa, his fingers draped along the back near your face. “That’s how shit like this is supposed to work. I pay you, you look after the brats.” He looks expectantly at you.

Your eyes soften as you realize just how different your views of the world are. Of course Sukuna wouldn’t expect someone to help them out of the goodness of their heart if it was just something he’d never experienced before. In his eyes, everything is transactional. You know he hates the idea of asking for help as well, so you can only assume that he would want to return the favor if it means it isn’t a plea for help. It’s an exchange of services. It makes it easier on his ego.

“Consider it a thank you for turning in the visual portion of our project on time,” you insist, trying to worm your way carefully between the thin line that separates this being help and this being an exchange.

“What?” He lifts a brow in disbelief, crimson irises narrowed as he observes you. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. That’s my project, too.”

“Well-” you pause, staring down at your manicured nails. “I honestly just thought you hadn’t made it on time.”

His finger taps the back of the couch by your head. “What gave you the idea I just wouldn’t turn my own project in?”

“Well you didn’t show up to our second meeti-”

“Y’know what?” He flicks your forehead with a mischievous smirk, all thoughts of repaying you gone from his mind. “Forget I asked. Don’t answer that.”

You pout at him, bringing a hand up to rub your forehead although it didn’t hurt. “Dick.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whine about it,” he grumbles, but he’s smirking as he eyes you. You can’t help but giggle at his behavior, something about it comforting as Sukuna relaxes into the cushions. He mindlessly rolls his neck, leaning back as silence falls over you.

The sound of cars outside and the quiet dialogue from The Iron Giant is nothing but background noise as you bask in the comfortable air of the still apartment. Being around Sukuna feels almost nostalgic in a sense- sure you had only been apart for a week and a half, but after ‘getting over him,’ as Shoko put it, it almost feels like a warm hug.

It’s a shame it can never last as long as you’d like, as you catch a glimpse of the window and realize it’s dark. Afraid of intruding, you get to your feet and make your way to the door. “I should head out,” you tell him. His eyes follow you, though he gives no other indication of hearing your words. “Will I see you in class on Friday? We get our grade for the project.”

“Nah, not if the brat’s sick. Just email me our grade.”

Your lip twitches downward, and you can only pray Sukuna doesn’t notice. He gives no indication that he does, so you do your best to plaster a look of understanding on your face. “See you around?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything more, still spread across the couch. He’s so tall and bulky that somehow the three-person couch looks too small for him, it may as well be a feat.

“Later, Kuna!” You trill in a sing-song voice as you make your way to the door.

“Night, Prom Queen,” he huffs, a humorous sneer to his tone.

–

Although he’s stuck at home with Yuji, Sukuna sends you a couple of emails updating you on him. The first one caught you off-guard but it warms your heart that he seems to want to talk to you beyond the project. Each email causes your chest to flutter a little more but you don’t entertain the thought that it’s anything more than physical attraction. There’s no point, really, when you can’t seem to go a single day without upsetting him in some manner.

Not that Shoko seems to agree with that sentiment.

“Hey!” She calls as you wait at your usual spot to make your way to the lunch hall.

“Hey, Sho!” You reply cheerily.

“So are we not best friends anymore, or…?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.

Incredulously, you blink at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t text me to tell me how last night went.”

“Oh, with Sukuna?”

With a deadpan stare, she sighs. “Girl, don’t act stupid.”

Harsh. “Sorry, it was pretty late when I got back, I would have otherwise!” You apologize with a wry smile. “It’s not all that interesting anyway. I just looked after the kids until he got back and then I went home.”

“You’re impossible. That’s obviously not what I’m asking about,” she groans, pushing you further as you beat around the bush of the situation. “You literally haven’t seen him in like a week and a half because he was such a prick, puh-lease tell me he apologized. You better not let him step on you.”

You sigh, giving in to her nosiness. “Yes, he apologized. I think it caused him physical pain,” you giggle to yourself.

“Good,” she snorts, “he deserves it for hurting you and he’s lucky I haven’t smacked him yet for breaking your heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart,” you roll your eyes as the two of you find your way to your usual table at the lunch hall.

Shoko takes her usual seat across from you. “No of course not, you were just sulking for fun.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my best friend?” You ask in an effort to derail the conversation as Haibara and Nanami take their seats beside you.

“That’s why I’m grilling you over that asshole in the first place,” she grins.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be giving me a hard time,” you counter but she just shoots you a sweet smile as Gojo and Geto arrive. Even she won’t subject you to their form of torture when it comes to teasing.

Nanami clearly catches on to what’s going on from where he sits beside you. Leaning over, he keeps his voice down as his observant mahogany eyes take in that you seem fairly bright today in comparison to the last few days.

“He apologized, yes?”

You nod.

“Good. Don’t be afraid to ask for my help, okay?”

“I’m fine, Ken, I promise,” you insist. Satisfied, he smiles and pulls out his lunch. You do the same, pulling out a container of fruit and a panini sandwich. For the first time in just under two weeks, you don’t feel a miserable wrench in your chest as you stare at the sandwich.

–

It’s no surprise when Friday rolls around and Sukuna doesn’t show up to class. Yuji is sick, and that’s his priority, as it should be. You feel a pang of disappointment but it’s heartwarming just how much he cares for his little brothers when he comes across as cold and indifferent a majority of the time. Even if he’s a bit rough around the edges, there’s a certain charm to the quiet and docile moments you’ve shared since working with him.

You can hardly sit still through the class as you await your grade, easily the most stressful part of projects worth this much. Your entire scholarship hinges on each of these massive projects and tests and you can’t risk the consequences of failing.

Ten minutes before the end of the lecture, just as the professor is about to go over the project, the door slowly inches open, and a tall and broad-shouldered student slips in with his hood up. The professor is used to it by now and doesn’t say a word. Rather than heading to his usual seat, the student quietly slips into the seat beside you, nudging you softly. He pulls down his hood and your eyes light up at the sight of your project partner.

“You made it!” You whisper, grinning up at him. Your stomach flutters as he smirks, setting his forearm on the back of your chair as he leans closer to you. Heat radiates from his body as his breath fans your neck, warming your skin despite the shiver that runs up your spine.

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told ya I needed to stay home, so I pulled some strings.”

You tilt your head to look at him, feeling your breath hitch when you realize just how close he is to your ear. Your cheeks undeniably heat up as you force yourself to stare at the front of the class. “I didn’t look like a kicked puppy. I was just… hoping you could make it.”

“Yeah, well, can’t have the Prom Queen thinkin’ I don’t show up now, can I?”

Your cheeks are burning so hot you think your head might be spinning and it’s only when he finally leans back into his own chair that you realize you were holding your breath. Rubbing a hand over your face in an effort to cool your cheeks down, you cast a glance at Sukuna.

He’s manspreading right into your personal space, leaning back into his chair as he listens to the professor with a look of indifference. In a rare circumstance, he looks more well-rested than usual and seems fairly at ease. His leg isn’t subtly shaking and his eyes aren’t darting down to his watch as he debates when to leave for his next shift. For once, he isn’t Sukuna with two jobs, two dependants, and the world on his shoulders, he’s just a student.

Your heart aches at the realization that he’s so drained from the weight of the world that it’s only in rare moments like this one that you see more of the real Sukuna. A man who smirks and teases, who relaxes into his seat and simply lets life go on. He’s not always cold and tense, there’s a side to him that only those lucky enough to get close to him get to see and the worst part about this realization…

… is that you want to see more of it. Not out of the goodness of your heart and a want to do something nice for someone deserving, although that is a part of it, but for selfish reasons.

Fuck. Shoko is right. Shoko is right and you’re hopelessly crushing over the notoriously hot campus asshole.

You swallow hard, pulling your gaze forward as you realize you’ve been staring. Chewing on your lip, you hardly put together that the professor is passing out project grades until he stops in front of your seats. You blink a few times to reorient yourself.

“You two surprised me immensely as a pairing,” he begins. Although you weren’t paying attention, Sukuna is well aware of the fact that the professor had been dismissing other students as he passes out grades, opting to bring yours up last. He can only assume that means one thing and he’s already smirking. “Although I would prefer you keep the in-class chatter to a minimum-” he pauses to shoot a glance at Sukuna, who’s now huffing with a glance to the side as the smirk falls from his face, “-this is by far the best iteration of this project I’ve seen in all my years of teaching.”

Your jaw hangs ajar, eyes wide as you process his words. Sukuna’s smirking again, hardly seeming shocked.

“Your thesis is worded eloquently and explores the depths of the meanings of each painting, while your visual portion is stunning and displays an understanding of the importance behind each piece to the artist,” he explains. The cocky grin on Sukuna’s face doesn’t leave as he outstretches his arm onto your chair. “This is the first time I’ve ever given out a perfect score, and for that reason I’d like to have you both present your work in front of the class.”

You pale, shooting a fearful glance at Sukuna. He seems mildly irritated by the thought, but shrugs, returning your glance. “Whattaya say?” He asks, his calm facade faltering as he takes in your expression. Crimson irises flit between your eyes as you slowly shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate meekly, not loving the idea of standing before a lecture hall of students, under far too many pairs of watchful and judgmental eyes.

His gaze drops to the way you’re fidgeting with your fingers, just as you had when you were nervous a couple of nights ago as he puts together that this isn’t something you’re comfortable with. It’s not like that isn’t written across your face right now, but it’s abundantly clear to him through your actions that this isn’t just discomfort, you’re genuinely nervous.

“We’ll do it,” Sukuna says. Your head flips towards him, eyes wide in disbelief as he makes the decision for you.

Before you have a chance to protest, the professor claps his hands together. “Great. I’ll have you present at the end of class next Friday. You don’t have to prepare anything fancy but I will make sure you get extra credit for this.”

You have half a mind to wish he started by mentioning the extra credit portion, you certainly would have hesitated less, but it doesn’t change just how badly you don’t want to do this.

As the professor walks away, you whirl around to face Sukuna. “What the hell, Sukuna?” You whisper-yell, though there isn’t anyone in your vicinity.

He chuckles. “Pick your jaw up off the ground, you’ll be fine. I’ll be there the whole time with you, yeah? I can do as much of the talkin’ as you want.” He leans towards you, setting a hand on the table in front of you both. “‘Sides, you weren’t gonna say no to extra credit. We both know that.”

You chew on your lip, brows knit together as you stare down at your hands, mindlessly fiddling with your nails again. “I guess you’re right.”

The tattooed man lets the silence hang for a moment as he contemplates how shy you’ve suddenly become. You’re meek at times, but this is almost perplexing to him given how bold and saccharine you are towards him when he isn’t purposely pushing your buttons. “So let me get this straight, you were Prom Queen but you don’t like talkin’ in front of people?” Sukuna tilts his head in thought as he shifts to lean on his forearm, edging closer to you.

“That- That felt different,” you insist, leaning forward on your palm as if mirroring his actions. Your eyes trail away from him and Sukuna narrows his eyes.

“I don’t get how that shit’s any different. Aren’t there less people in this class?” He asks, bringing a hand up to scratch his chest. Your eyes flicker over to watch the movement, as though anything is more interesting than actually looking up at him.

“Well, yeah- but-” you pause, your leg now beginning to bounce. Clearly you’re bothered now, but Sukuna can’t wrap his head around what’s made you so shy suddenly- you who so boldly walked your way into his life. He knows people perceive him as scary at a glance, yet that never stopped you. Hell, you hang around Satoru Gojo of all people and Sukuna doesn’t get that either, finding his boisterous presence loud and irritating, but he’s fairly sure that makes you part of a group that would normally be considered popular.

So what in the hell are you so scared of? He doesn’t understand.

“But what?” He pushes, leaning closer to you.

You can feel his breath fanning your face again now that he’s leaning closer to you. It only serves as another distraction and you already can’t seem to find your words. “I- I don’t know, Sukuna!” You huff, pulling back a bit to cross your arms over your chest and put some distance between you.

Sukuna's face twists in confusion, frustration etching itself into his features. “C’mon, it’s easy extra credit. What’s got you so worked up?” He asks with a hint of a sneer as he grows impatient with your avoidance of the subject.

“You wouldn’t get it.” Your voice is firm and there’s a hint of ice forming at the edges of your words that surprises your project partner.

“Try me,” he grunts, leaning as far forward as he can without his chair tipping over.

Your hands move gradually from their position crossed over your chest to hug your frame as your expression turns from one of frustration to a more solemn one. “It’s because I was Prom Queen that I don’t like talking in front of people.”

“Hm?”

“It was a pretty big thing at my school, so some people were jealous, and others were pushy, it’s not like in the movies,” you shrug, as if that’s any sort of explanation in Sukuna’s eyes. Confusion dances across his narrowed red irises and you sigh, letting your guard down. “I don’t know, some girls got pretty jealous, and some people were a bit pushy trying to get my attention and it just ended up being an embarrassment. It was just a lot and I don’t love being in front of groups anymore,” you shrug.

Sukuna sits up straight, staring down at you with a scowl. “Aren’t they supposed to wanna be you or somethin’?” He asks with a frown.

“I mean, they did.”

He supposes you have a point, his observant stare taking in the way you shrink into yourself. “Well this ain’t high school and those assholes aren’t here. Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs in an attempt to reassure you. You finally meet his gaze again, a look of uncertainty painting your wide eyes. “No one is stupid enough to talk about ya like that with me beside you.”

A small smile pulls at your lips and Sukuna’s heart stumbles. He blinks a few times at the feeling in an effort to push it away, focusing instead on the way your eyes brighten. Fuck, that’s not helping him either. He coughs lightly into his elbow, rubbing a hand over his face as you smile shyly at him.

“Thanks, Sukuna. You’re kinda sweet sometimes, in your own way.”

He scowls. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from deep within your chest at his scrunched nose and frown, but you don’t give him an answer, beginning to pack up your bags. Sukuna huffs when you begin to pack up, facing forward with his chin leaning on his palm.

“Hey, thanks for coming in to get our grade.”

He raises a brow. “I didn’t do it for you.”

You pause, gripping your textbook in your bag as you cast a glance at Sukuna. His usual aloof expression has returned, no indication of your prior teasing found on his face.

“What happened to emailing you our grade then?”

Sukuna’s eye twitches as he watches you, returning your stare. “It was a joke.”

Your lips quirk upwards. “Right, how could I forget? It was so funny,” you mock him, reveling in the way he’s on his feet the next moment, the chair scraping across the floor as he glares at you with all the irritation he can muster, that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He sneers, taking a step towards you. He towers over you, shoving his hands into his pockets as your cocky demeanor shifts, your eyes widening when he leans down until his face is mere inches from yours. Your breath hitches as he chuckles darkly when he gets the exact reaction he wants from you. “You were all talk two seconds ago, what happened?”

“I- um-” Getting your bearings, you shove his chest playfully. “You’re a dick,” you mumble.

Sukuna doesn’t move an inch when you shove him, a grin plastered across his face. “Thought we were done with callin’ me a dick,” he teases.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Yeah, until you decided to be one again.”

Sukuna’s sharp pupils flicker between your eyes for a moment before he stands up straight. Your heart beats in your ears as you’re freed from the close proximity. “Yeah, whatever you say,” he chuckles, calmly smirking at you. He glances down at the watch on his wrist, letting out a breath of air. “I gotta get back home. Uraume only had an hour to watch the brats.”

Tilting your head, you blink up at him, a hand over your chest to slow your thundering heart. “How’s Yuji?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Better than Wednesday. He’s still got a fever, though.”

“I hope he feels better soon,” you say, hesitating as you take a chance. “Let me know if you need me to watch them.”

Sukuna’s expression is unreadable as he examines you, gears visibly turning in his mind. Without another word, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and throws his hood back up, pausing to look at you before he leaves.

Sighing, he pushes his hair from his forehead beneath his hood. “I swear this’ll be the last time. I got offered a shift Sunday.”

He doesn’t voice his question to watch the kids, it’s an unspoken question because he doesn’t want to ask. The question puts him in a position where he’s asking for help and he so badly wants that not to be what this is.

You smile softly. “I’m free on Sunday.”

Pulling his airpods from a case in his pocket and putting them in his ears, he grunts. “Come by mine Sunday at 8:30.”

You purse your lips. “At night, right?” You ask, your gaze following after the man as he casually descends the lecture hall to the door. “At night, right?” You ask, this time louder to get his attention over his music.

Sukuna heard you the first time, shooting you a sly smirk just before he leaves.

Well, fuck that.

–

With a backpack slung over your shoulder filled with textbooks and study materials, as well as your GameCube, you sigh as you click the buzzer button for Sukuna’s apartment. As you wait for one of the three siblings to let you in, you shiver at the chill air. It’s far too early for you to be awake on a Sunday and your body agrees as you find yourself yawning every few seconds.

Between the cool fall air and the early morning, you couldn’t be bothered to dress in your usual preppy style, opting for a cute deep red hoodie with hello kitty on it and a pair of leggings. It’s still cute, but it’s a contrast to your blouses, skirts and heels.

When the door loudly buzzes, you make your way inside with your hood up over your hair, yawning as you rub your tired eyes. Before you can even knock on the door, Sukuna opens it, leaving your fist stagnant in the air. You drop it by your side, staring up at him through your lashes.

Sukuna’s in his polo shirt that seems so out of place on him you would almost assume he was someone else. “Blue’s not your color,” you comment with a yawn. His amused smile at your tired expression twists in offense at your comment.

“Morning to you too, dick.”

You giggle at his teasing. “You got me up early, I’m allowed to be one.”

“Oh, my bad, you fuckin’ princess,” Sukuna scoffs, an air of playfulness surrounding his words that makes you giggle more. He opens the door to let you into the apartment, his gaze trailing your outfit. It’s not your usual attire but something about how different it is on you while still suiting you stirs something within him. The bigger hoodie draping over your body makes him wonder what his own clothes would-

What the fuck is he thinking? He shakes his head, shutting the door and glancing over to the hall where the pitter patter of small feet sounds. Yuji goes running up to Sukuna, a bundle of blankets wrapped around his tiny form. “Don’t go, big brother.” His voice is lower than usual, clearly still sick as he clings onto his brother’s leg.

Crimson eyes flicker down to the little bundle of blankets. “I’ll be back soon, Yu. Play some MarioKart or whatever.”

Yuji’s curious eyes search the room at the sound of MarioKart. You pull down your hood and wave as he spots you. His eyes widen and he gasps, running up and hugging your legs now. You grin down at him, ruffling his unkempt hair.

Sukuna scoffs. “See? You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“Come play with us!” Yuji insists at the sound of his brother’s comment, still clutching your knee as he turns to plead with his brother.

Sukuna’s hardened indifference cracks, something akin to guilt or sadness flickering in his eyes for a split-second. It’s such a short moment that you wonder if you imagined it. He sighs, crouching down in front of Yuji. Even crouching, he’s still monstrously tall and dwarfs his little brother. You suppose that’s what happens when you’re almost seven feet tall and made of solid muscle.

“Maybe later, kid.” He ruffles his hair just as you did moments ago and gets back to his feet. “I owe ya one,” he sighs, brow furrowed as he stares off to the side with a tight jaw.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask-” you pause, a mix of emotions flooding you as you contemplate dropping the question, but ultimately decide it’s worth it. “I could use a hand studying for history.” You chew on your lip. “You know, just if you have time, no big deal if you don’t!” You smile sheepishly.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker between yours, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, sure.” He turns away, trudging to the door. “Be back at 5:30,” he mumbles before he’s gone. You sigh at the sight of the shut and locked door, turning your groggy attention to Yuji, who coughs into his bundle of blankets at your feet.

It’s a miracle you aren’t sick already, and you hope that miracle stays with you again today.

You’re able to study while the boys play games throughout most of the day once Choso wakes up. They’re easy to look after and they add a certain brightness to your day that only they can, reminding you of just how simple life is when you don’t have three projects due and finals on the horizon.

There’s a weight in your chest at the thought of managing that workload alongside two jobs and two kids, something you find yourself pondering often, but if Sukuna won’t accept your help, then what more can you do? Sure, you’re helping him now, but you know he won’t let this go without repayment, which you would happily take in the form of a study buddy. While that’s likely less stressful for him than cash, it’s still another sliver of his already limited time taken up.

“I’m hungry,” Choso mumbles, looking at you as if he didn’t scarf down the lunch you made only a couple of hours ago.

A lopsided smile dons your face as you contemplate making dinner or letting him know to wait for Sukuna, but if he’s hungry, who are you to say no?

“What would you like?”

“Cereal!” Yuji excitedly calls from where he sits on the floor, stifling a cough when his voice cracks.

“That’s not dinner…” Choso mumbles, brow furrowing in thought as he looks at his younger brother, who’s been so picky while he’s been sick that most of their meals have been the same few things that he can stomach. “What about mac and cheese?”

Yuji takes a moment to think, before he decides this is acceptable and nods excitedly.

“I’m sure I can make that happen,” you agree, getting to your feet to peruse the kitchen that you’re growing more accustomed to. Yuji stays in the living room, the sounds of a terrified Luigi echoing throughout the apartment as Choso follows closely behind you. You’ve noticed over your time with Sukuna and his brothers that Choso seems to have a penchant for cooking and loves to help. It’s too cute and your heart swells each time he finds a way to lend a hand while you cook.

Plus, you get a helper, which means less work. It’s a win-win situation, really.

As you work your way through the kitchen, boiling water and letting Choso salt and stir the noodles before pouring them into a casserole dish, you sprinkle cheese between and over the noodles as you wait for the oven to eat up, explaining each step along the way for Sukuna’s brother. Stirring the cheese into the noodles along with some herbs and spices, you tilt your head at the dish.

It’s almost ready for the oven, but not quite.

“Do you have breadcrumbs?”

Choso stares up at the pantry shelves. “Uhh…” He pushes around a few boxes before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you have bread?”

“Yeah, but it’s old.”

“Old like mouldy or old like stale?” You ask with a thoughtful expression.

“Stale.”

“Perfect!”

Choso wrinkles his nose as he hands the loaf of bread to you. It’s in moments like these that his resemblance to his older brother really becomes apparent.

“I’ll show you how to make breadcrumbs,” you grin. Choso doesn’t seem to have a grasp on what you need breadcrumbs for when mac and cheese’s ingredients are literally listed in the name, but he still watches with intrigue anyway. You cut up the slices of bread into tiny pieces, throwing them in the oven until they’ve dried out, and then tossing them over the mac and cheese and placing the extra crumbs aside.

“Trust the process, Cho.”

He tilts his head curiously as you place the mac and cheese on a rack in the oven. “Trust the process?”

“It means… it may not make sense to you in the moment, maybe it’s messy or confusing, but the end result will be more than worth it.”

“Oh. Okay. Trust the process,” he parrots, before making his way back to the living room just as his brother is sucking up a ghost with a vacuum in Luigi’s Mansion.

While the meal bakes, you grab your history textbook again and get some more studying in. It doesn’t take long for the timer to go off and Choso comes running up with wide eyes to stare at the prepared meal. Yuji follows slowly in his bundle of blankets, happily taking a bowl as you warn them both it’s hot.

“So?”

With a mouth full of macaroni, Choso smiles. “Trust the process,” comes his muffled happiness. The boys chow down on what you assume will be their dinner given that Sukuna should be home soon, and Choso returns to help you clean up.

He grabs a ziploc bag to place the extra breadcrumbs in, holding it open for you. Just as you’re pouring the food into the bag, the front door swings open and you jolt in surprise, causing bread crumbs to go flying.

Sukuna drops his keys on the table by the door, his eyes scanning the room as he spots Yuji before his aloof expression crumbles when he arches a brow at the absolute mess that his kitchen is. Your cheeks heat up as you and Choso stare at him with guilty expressions.

Really, you should be blaming Sukuna for scaring you.

“I’m not fuckin’ cleaning that,” he grumbles, walking slowly over the mess of cables in the living room as he pulls his shirt up over his head in the most ungodly slutty way you could possibly imagine and you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes from the sight of his toned back.

Of course, you always knew Sukuna was muscular, but seeing it first hand makes it hard to shake the image from your mind. He could be hung on the wall of a museum, his muscles are so sculpted, rippling with every movement and decorated in tattoos that suit him so well he could be an actual god and you wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Choso pulls you from your thoughts as they border on inappropriate, by tugging at your sleeve.

“We should clean.”

“Right!” You squeak, shaking the image of shirtless Sukuna as best as you can from your mind as you stare at the scattered mess.

“Okay let’s… start with the counter.”

It doesn’t take too long to clean up the mess and there’s still enough bread crumbs left over for Sukuna to make something if he wanted, so it could have gone over worse.

Speak of the devil, he rounds the corner wearing a black muscle shirt with a metal band logo you don’t recognize scrawled across the front and sleeves cut so deep it hardly counts as a shirt, like he’s showing off or something. You don’t even want to begin to think about the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants as well like some sort of tease who probably just threw on the first thing he saw and it didn’t even cross his mind how stupidly hot he is.

You avert your eyes, attempting to keep your cheeks from heating up any more than they already have. Sukuna crosses the living room to the kitchen in a few long strides, peering at the floor in search of crumbs.

“The fuck even happened over here?”

“You scared me when you opened the door,” you mumble, leaning back against the kitchen counter where your textbook is resting.

“So you threw shit everywhere?”

Your brow furrows at his accusation. “I just fumbled a bit and spilled what was on the pan.”

“Mm.” Sukuna’s gaze scans the kitchen until he finds the macaroni and cheese casserole sitting just behind your textbook. With a hint of a smirk, he takes a step forward, so close to you that his body heat warms your skin, his abs and chest just barely brushing against the plush of your breasts as he dips his finger into the dish.

Pulling his arm back, he slyly locks eyes with you, not bothering to take a step back even as you press your spine into the counter. He slips his finger between his lips, sucking the cheese from it with a pop!

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, caught between him and the hard countertop behind you like a deer in the headlights, frozen. If you move even an inch, he’ll be pressed up against you, and- don’t let your thoughts spiral again.

Sukuna smirks, lidded eyes smug as though he’s got you just where he wants you, amused to pull such a reaction from you. He’s become increasingly aware of the effect he has on you and everything he’s been doing has absolutely been on purpose, even if you don’t know it. He’s making a show out of his muscles, getting close to you, sucking on his finger, all to get a rise out of you.

He’s not sure he understands it himself, but he loves your little reactions. He loves the way your eyes widen, your breath hitches, and your muscles tense as though you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. He’s sure it all boils down to lust, but he’ll make the most of it while he has you here.

He clicks his tongue after a thoughtful moment. “Not bad. The breadcrumbs are a nice touch.”

“T-Thanks,” you stammer quietly. Sukuna chuckles lowly as he finally gives you space, turning to open the fridge and grab a protein drink. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bringing a hand up to slow your pounding heart.

“You stickin’ around to study?”

“I- um-” you pause, clearing your throat in an effort to calm your flustered state. “If you have time, that would be great. I mean, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. The brats are quiet while you’re around.” He brings the protein drink up to his lips, downing it in one go and tossing the bottle into a bucket in the corner of the room as though he’s done it a thousand times.

With the boys distracted by the GameCube, Sukuna sits down at the table in the back of his apartment with you and a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Scooting his chair closer to you, his eyes scan the page you’re on.

“Is this for History 209?” He asks, briefly flipping to the textbook cover.

You nod.

“Mm.”

Sukuna briefly scans the upcoming pages before diving into explanations of the textbook, from memory. He clearly has a fondness for history that seems to come naturally to him as he explains anything you ask questions on without needing to even glance at the textbook. It’s like second nature to him.

“What years did the cold war take place?” He quizzes without so much as glancing up at you as he flips through the textbook pages without reading at all as though it’s a picture book.

“Uh-” You stare up at the ceiling. “1952 to 89?”

“47 to 89. Tell me about the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

“Um- Cuba felt like the US was about to invade, so they asked the Soviet Union to install missiles in-”

“Who asked?”

“Cuba?”

Sukuna glances up at you, his expression unimpressed. “No shit. What leader?”

“Oh. Castro.”

Hours pass by and you hardly even notice until your eyes begin to grow heavy and your yawning sets in. Sukuna gradually begins leaning further on his knuckles over the table, launching question after question at you without even a lick of help from the textbook. It would almost be impressive, if you didn’t already know how smart Sukuna is.

“How did the modern revolution affect the environment?”

You chew on your lip, the last bit of energy you were working with fizzling out suddenly as you’re left staring blankly at the table, completely burnt out.

Sukuna’s been only half paying attention for the past few minutes, growing equally as worn out and unable to focus as you are, though he hasn’t noticed just how spent you are given his inattention. It’s not until you don’t respond that his attention snaps to you, staring off into space.

He glances over your features, eyes dropping to your oversized hoodie. His thoughts stray to places they shouldn’t be again, so he wills himself to look back at your eyes, but the way you’re chewing on your lip-

It’s then that he realizes how close you are. Over the course of the past couple of hours, Sukuna has leaned further forward in his chair and you’ve scooted closer in an effort to look at the pages of your textbook while he explains. It’s weird, the way the close proximity seems to draw him in, as though he belongs in your space, but he knows better. He knows you exist in different worlds.

Still, as you space out further, a piece of your hair falls out of place, blocking the blank and tired expression on your face, and Sukuna doesn’t even have a moment to process his actions before he moves. It’s almost delicate, the way he slowly moves the hand he isn’t leaning on to tenderly brush the strand of hair behind your ear.

His action draws your attention, and along with it a steady heat that rises to your cheeks, reaching your ears and down to your neck. Sukuna doesn’t even seem phased by what he’s done, as if it’s completely natural and something the two of you just do. As though he isn’t pushing the balance of your strange friendship, if it could even be called that.

You lick your lip as you will your thoughts to stop bouncing all over the place, trying not to read too much into his actions, but it’s hard not to when his pupils dart down to follow your tongue as it swipes your lower lip. His pupils grow suddenly, and you don’t know how not to read into that, and now your thoughts are spiraling, and you’re wondering if all of Sukuna’s actions today are premeditated or-

As if Sukuna’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, he clears his throat and sits back. His pupils shrink and he crosses his arms over his chest, placing distance between you.

“You should head home before it’s too dark.”

In the endless sea of your thoughts, all you can do is nod. Snapping yourself back to reality, you begin packing your bag and make your way out to the living room where the two boys are excitedly playing an old copy of the board game Operation after Sukuna had told them no more video games, much to their dismay.

You smile at the sight of poor bundled up little Yuji and his older brother, who clearly cares a great deal for the little salmon-haired boy. The three of them are a sweet little family. Sukuna has a funny way of showing it sometimes but he clearly adores the two boys, or he wouldn’t be doing everything that he is.

At the end of the day, he could have left them to their own devices, thrown them into the fostering system. He could have used legal means to shove them into a relative’s care. He could have done a lot of things, but you can see the way he adores them. The way he loves them so deeply and genuinely that he can’t bear the thought of seeing them thrown to the wolves like that. He’s put a great deal of his life on hold and put his health, both mental and physical, on the line to see the two boys thrive, and it fills your heart with joy.

“You know, I could just leave the GameCu-”

“No.” Sukuna gets to his feet, standing a few feet away.

Yuji and Choso’s heads simultaneously whip around as though they’ve heard the biggest betrayal of their entire lives.

At five and twelve, they very well may have.

“Awwww!”

“Pleaaase, Kuna!”

“No, that’s final.”

You shoot Sukuna an easy smile, giggling to yourself at the sight of his scowl and frustrated huff.

“Don’t get ideas into their heads,” he grumbles at you, brushing past you as you clean up the GameCube and stuff the games into your bag. He grabs some more medication for Yuji, who doesn’t complain as he swallows it with a miserable frown at the bitter taste.

You wait at the door with your bag packed as Sukuna moves around the apartment, putting the medication away before he joins you at the door.

“Thank you so much for your help with studying, Kuna,” you say as you twist the handle and make your way out the door, turning to face him just outside his apartment. He leans on the doorframe, shutting the door slightly behind him and blocking the boys’ vision of you to give you both some privacy. He’s grimacing at the nickname, but he doesn’t complain.

“It’s whatever. Just paying you back for lookin’ after the brats.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. Of course that’s all it is. “Email me if you need me to look after them while Yuji’s still sick.”

A puff of air escapes Sukuna’s nose in a makeshift laugh. “This your excuse to have more time to study?”

You have to resist the urge  to roll your eyes at the way he so obviously is denying that he’s getting help from you. “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” you agree.

He smirks, nodding. “Tuesday at three.”

“Better be in the afternoon this time,” you tease.

“God forbid I take a night shift,” he scoffs, turning to shut the door. He pauses for a split second, turning back to you. You almost think he’s about to thank you, but either you read the situation wrong or he second-guesses himself because- “You better remember who Allen Dulles is on Tuesday.”

Your face contorts as he references the cold war and chuckles at your expression before closing the door.

Dick.

–

Friday comes sooner than you can possibly imagine as you find yourself spending late nights studying with Sukuna after looking after Yuji and Choso. Yuji returned to school on Thursday and Choso on Monday, so you’d gotten into the habit of picking up Choso from school and going back to watch them play games while you studied or worked on projects.

You couldn’t know whether Sukuna would still need help now that Yuji was feeling better, but that was the least of your concerns, because it’s Friday.

And you’ve been dreading this Friday in particular. Worse still, it felt like the world was against you all day too.

You woke up to the first snow of the season, opting to dress in a cute, white knit sweater that was fairly warm, as well as some beige leggings- not to mention all your winter gear.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg, you had to redo your eyeliner after somehow messing it up not once but twice, and then you managed to step in a puddle of mud and get your usual winter boots completely covered in dirt.

With your clean high heeled boots adorning your feet, you make your way to the school and quickly fall into step with Nanami who shares your first class of the day. He’s bundled up warmly in a long coat, a grey scarf accenting his coat. His sharp eyes turn to you as you join him, softening at the sight of you.

“Good morning,” he greets you, a kind smile pulling at his features.

You return his smile half-heartedly, giving him a brief wave. “Hey, Kento. How’re you feeling about finals?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Prepared,” he decides after a moment. “Though I don’t believe there’s such a thing as too much studying.”

“Yeah… I get that,” you agree, watching the snow condense beneath your feet with each step. Comfortable silence falls over you as the crunching of snow and the sounds of passing students fills the air. The warmth of your breath surrounds you as you mindlessly stare at the sparkling coat of flakes across the ground.

After a few moments, Nanami hums again, interrupting the silence and pulling your attention back to him. His gaze flickers between your face and your hands.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

Again, his watchful eyes flicker down to your hands. “You’ve been zipping up and unzipping your jacket since we began walking.”

You purse your lips, finally following his gaze down to your jacket which must have been making a grating zipping noise the whole time that you hadn’t even noticed with how caught up in your thoughts you were.

“Sorry Kento,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Just a bit nervous.”

His head tilts. “What are you nervous about?”

“I have to make a presentation in Art History at the end of the day. No one else in class is presenting.” With a sheepish smile, you proceed to subconsciously begin playing with your zipper again, too caught up in your thoughts to realize you’re doing it.

“I see. Is that what Sukuna was working on this morning?”

“You have a class with him?”

“Yes. He’s in my Accounting class early on Tuesdays and Fridays,” Nanami explains, subtly watching the way you’re messing with your zipper again, though he keeps his mouth shut.

“Oh. He was working on things this morning?”

“I believe so. It didn’t seem like he was paying attention,” Nanami shrugs. “I assumed he was working on something else.”

You let out a breath. “That’s kind of a relief, honestly.”

Arching a brow, Nanami hums questioningly.

“I still don’t like public speaking,” you quietly mumble, zipping your jacket up fully and burying your face into the fabric as your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Hm. I see,” the blonde hums, having been there during your Prom alongside Haibara. He’s well aware of the fallout that came with being named Prom Queen. “Well, you’ll have Sukuna with you, and I highly doubt anyone would comment with Sukuna at your side.”

“Scary dog privilege,” you agree.

“Sorry?” Kento’s brow furrows in confusion, leaving you giggling.

“Don’t worry about it.”

With a shake of his head, Kento opens the door to your next lecture and puts his focus into his notes as usual. You do your best to follow suit, but if your bouncing leg is any indicator, your focus isn’t long for this world and Nanami knows he’s in for a long study session in the coming week.

–

You did debate just not showing up, but if Sukuna was working on the presentation at an early morning class, you don’t have the heart to not show up at least for him. Still, your nerves are frayed at the seams in downright unease at the thought of being the only group to present your project.

The concept of being one of the only two people at the center of everyone’s attention all for being named the ‘best’ at something brings back too many memories for you to care to admit. Taking a deep breath, you do your best to keep your eyes on the prize: the extra credit.

Sukuna was right when he said you wouldn’t turn down extra credit. You would definitely think about turning it down when it came at the cost of your dignity and sanity, but with Sukuna at your side, you think you just might be alright.

At the end of the day, you know you need to keep your grades up if you want to keep your scholarship, and more importantly your parents happy, so with a deep breath, you focus on the class to the best of your ability, pushing aside your mess of anxiety and worries.

That is, until you glance back at Sukuna’s usual seat, only to find it empty and your heart damn near stops. Your eyes widen and in the least subtle way possible, you whip your head around the class in search of him. He has to be here. He promised to handle all the talking, you aren’t prepared, you… You can’t do this alone. Surely the professor will understand that too, right?

“Before I dismiss you all, I’d like to have a couple of exemplary students come up to present the Meaning in Art project I had you all submit a couple of weeks back.”

Your heart is thundering, your breathing growing shallow as panic sets in.

“These students displayed an impeccable understanding of the art and artists they chose to study, demonstrating this understanding through both their written and visual pieces.”

Your mouth is dry, your throat tight. Where the fuck is he? He wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like this, would he? You didn’t prepare anything, you were relying on him.

“With that being said, I’d like to invite these students up to the front of the class to give a short breakdown of their project.” Your name follows this statement, along with Sukuna’s, and the class goes silent.

Your hands are trembling as you stare in dismay at the desk sitting at the front of the room where Sukuna’s art is sitting, alongside your written thesis. You swallow hard, forcing down your nerves as all eyes fall to you.

On shaky legs, you slowly make your way down to the front of the class, quietly making your way up to the professor. “I- um-” you take a breath in an effort to calm your nerves. “Can we present next week instead? Sukuna- um- isn’t here,” you quietly whisper.

“Finals are in two weeks. This is the last class for this semester.”

Fuck.

“Right. Sorry, yeah. That’s fine,” you whisper, chewing on your lip as you turn to face the class. Dozens of pairs of judgmental eyes stare back at you and if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, never to be seen again, it would be a better fate than what you were about to do. Alone. 

“Um-” You mumble, clearing your throat as you pick up the printed thesis you wrote together with Sukuna. Surely he would walk through the door in just a few seconds, right? He would show up for you just like you did for him when Yuji was sick, right? This has to be a cruel prank.

“Speak up, please.” Your professor’s voice pulls you from the delusion that Sukuna was ever going to show up. The delusion that Sukuna ever cared.

Fuck, you just admitted to yourself that you like Sukuna.

You just came to terms with the fact that your attraction to him is more than just physical.

You’ve spent weeks defending him, even when he was a dick, but this really takes the cake.

Your chest tightens as you realize just how much he’s let you down. You want to cry, it’s a fight against your own body not to show just how nervous you are.

“For our-” You pause, staring down at the page with your name scrawled alongside Sukuna’s and a perfect score circled in red. “For my project,” you begin, taking a deep breath in an effort to push down the swirling anger, disappointment, and anxiety all threatening to suffocate you.

You launch into an explanation on the three pieces you and Sukuna had chosen, summarizing your thesis while fighting the tremble in your voice, putting every last ounce of effort you can into masking how nervous you are and avoiding the stares of your classmates.

Picking up the art Sukuna drew is when the last shreds of your dignity fall apart and tears prick in your eyes. Your voice wavers and you know everyone can tell. You can hear the whispers, the quiet giggles. You don’t know whether it’s directed at you or if they’re even paying attention to you at all, but each and every noise seems to drag you one inch closer to your own personal hell and you shrink into yourself as you attempt to explain Sukuna’s art.

Alone.

You can’t even say for sure if your words made sense towards the end of your presentation, the whole thing a blur behind tear-filled eyes and the ringing of anxiety in your ears. The only thing you do hear is your professor dismissing you. You don’t even grab your bag and you leave your project on the table, you just need out. You need air.

Your feet carry you out the door, your eyes trained on the ground as you do your best not to collide with anyone as you run for the doors. You don’t hear someone call your name in confusion and you don’t see them chase after you. So focused on fresh air, you forget how cold it is as the freezing air shocks your skin and chills your lungs.

Finding a spot beside the door outside, away from prying eyes and out of the way, you wrap your arms around yourself and wipe your tears, taking deep breaths to slow your racing heart.

“There you are. What happened?”

You blink a couple of times, trying to wipe any evidence of your tears as you lock eyes with familiar mahogany ones.

“Ken?” You barely manage to whisper his name, your breath stolen from your lungs by the anxiety rocking your body.

“What happened?” He pushes again, eyes traveling down to your trembling hands. He can’t tell whether that’s from the cold or your nerves, but like the gentleman he is, he pulls his coat off and throws it over your shoulders, zipping it up over your arms in an effort to keep you from freezing.

“He didn’t show up.”

Nanami’s lips press into a thin line, taking in your expression. You’re barely keeping it together, though the freezing air flooding your lungs is keeping your mind distracted.

With a sigh, Kento sets a hand on your shoulder. “Come back inside. Let’s get your coat.”

Slowly coming back down from your panicked state as his hand on your shoulder grounds you, you pause for a moment to take in the blonde in front of you. He’s in just a knit sweater and slacks, visibly shaking from the cold air now that you’re wrapped in his jacket.

“Shit, sorry Kento,” you mumble, letting him guide you back inside and to your lecture hall, where he takes his coat back and grabs your bags for you to avoid any prying eyes. Handing you your coat, followed by the bag he’s packed up for you, he sighs and leads the way to a secluded area of the History and Science building of the college. You don’t say a word as he sits you down on a bench.

“Are you alright?”

You nod.

“Are you lying?”

Your mouth opens to say no, but one glance at his sharp gaze tells you he sees right through you. “Were you outside my class?”

“Mhm. I wanted to make sure things went well.”

“That’s… Really kind, Nanamin. Thank you.”

He hums quietly, leaning back against the wall behind the bench. Someone walks past mumbling something to themself about failing a test, but it’s otherwise silent in the halls.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better. People were laughing.” You chew on your lip, rubbing your hands over your face.

“I’m certain they weren’t. Students laugh throughout class constantly, they likely weren’t paying attention,” he points out.

You know he has a point, but it doesn’t make the situation any less frustrating and disappointing.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Kento, “that he promised he’d be there with me and wasn’t, or having to relive that stupid moment in high school all over again.”

Your friend grimaces. “Yes, I can imagine that wasn’t pleasant. I’m sorry.” It’s about all he can offer in the moment, but mentally he’s thinking of mentioning what happened to Gojo and Geto and watching the drama that unfolds. The white haired frat boy would relish in the idea of having an actual reason to have beef with Sukuna.

“Why don’t we go grab something to eat?” Nanami suggests in an effort to get your mind off of your horrifying presentation and, more importantly, the man that’s managed to break your heart twice now.

“I’m okay. I think I just want to go home.”

“I would prefer if you weren’t alone,” Nanami protests.

“We just ate, though.”

“We can grab dessert, then. My treat,” he insists.

Silence follows as you look up at Nanami, finding comfort in the concern swirling in those deep mahogany irises. “Fine,” you sigh, relenting finally.

With a sympathetic smile, he gets to his feet and offers you his hand, helping you get to your feet as he leads the way back out into the cold with one goal in mind.

Keep your mind off of Sukuna.

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❦ a/n ; sorry for the delay on this one!! i had a work conference all last week but had a ton of fun writing this when i got back, so i hope you all enjoyed it <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[hoe4hotchner]

I know you are probably so tired of this but I NEED more smoker Hotch, I do know why but the pure thought of Aaron Hotchner smoking just does something to me, I also wanted to say thank you so much for all that you do for the Aaron hotchner fan base and even the criminal minds fandom ❤️

Bad habits | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Smoking cigarettes

A/N: I'm never tired of getting requests (cause let's be honest smoker!hotch is too hot for his own good) Thank you so much for the kind words. It means a lot to hear. 💕💕💕

The first time you caught Aaron smoking, it was in his garage, out of all places. He leaned against the back wall, one foot propped up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow from the overhead bulb cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching. This was Aaron Hotchner, your steadfast, composed partner. The man who was usually all discipline, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever letting it show. And yet, here he was, indulging in what could only be described as a private ritual.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, breaking the silence. “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. His expression didn’t shift much, but you could tell you’d caught him off guard. The hand holding the cigarette hovered near his side like he wasn’t sure whether to hide it or finish it.

“It’s... occasional,” he said after a pause, his voice gravelly, almost sheepish. “Stress, mostly.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the garage. “Stress? Really? You expect me to believe this is a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think I have a habit?”

“Oh, I know you do,” you shot back, your tone teasing. “You’ve clearly done this before. What, do you sneak out here after bad cases? After long nights at work?” You'd meant it as a joke, but deep down, you knew that some of it probably held truth to it.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, the tendrils curling lazily. “Something like that.”

You moved closer, the faint scent of smoke mixed with the familiar aroma of the garage. It should’ve been off-putting, but there was something about the way the cigarette looked in his hand that made your pulse quicken.

“You know, it’s terrible for you,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him.

His lips quirked into a smile, closing his eyes for a split second, more amusement than apology. “So I’ve heard.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You couldn’t stop watching him — the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his jaw tightened as he brought it to his lips, and the way the soft glow of the embers lit his face up with each inhale.

It shouldn’t have been attractive. But it was.

“You’re staring,” Aaron said, breaking the spell.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Am not.”

“You are,” he replied. He held the cigarette out to you, his eyes studying your reaction. “Want to try?”

You frowned, narrowing your eyes. “Is this how you justify it? Getting me to join in so you feel less guilty?”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “Maybe.”

Your lips twitched as you took the cigarette from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. The contact was brief but electric, and you had to steel yourself against the flutter it sent through your chest.

The cigarette felt foreign between your fingers, and you glanced at Aaron for guidance. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding.

“Breathe in slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Not too deep. It’ll burn if you’re not used to it.”

You followed his instructions, the taste sharp and smoky as it filled your lungs. It wasn’t pleasant — not really — but the way Aaron watched you, his gaze steady and just a little amused, made the moment strangely intimate.

When you exhaled, you handed the cigarette back to him, coughing slightly. “That’s disgusting.”

Aaron chuckled softly. “I didn’t say it was enjoyable.”

“Then why do it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He took one last drag, his eyes distant for a moment before killing the cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to him. “Because sometimes,” he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s the only thing that helps.”

Your heart twisted at the admission. He didn’t have to say what it was — you knew fully well what he meant, and you admired him for taking on that burden.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. “You know you don’t have to carry everything alone, right?”

“I know.”

And maybe he did. But as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple, you made a silent vow to remind him as often as he needed.

[yoyomomiko]

☆ : They're jealous ×

characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace

cw: jealousy (is that supposed to be a warning??), probably ooc, cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(a/n): This is like, my first time writing for one piece characters specifically😀 I'm barely in Alabasta but I cannot wait until I finish one piece so that I can write for it😔 ACE IS A NEED UGH -> m.list

★requests are open!!

LUFFY

Luffy doesn't understand jealousy at first and will simply blurt out "Why are you talking to him so much?" without realizing it sounds possessive.

Believe it or not, he can get VERY possessive. You're pretty much just as valuable as his hat, you're his treasure.

That's right, his treasure.

So then, why are you talking to that donkey faced man? He's so ugly, why would you even bother wasting your breath speaking to him?

He'll cling to you like glue, throwing an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand tightly while pouting.

When Luffy's jealous he starts getting loud, making exaggerated jokes or showing off just to grab your attention.

Complains to the rest of the crew (probably Usopp or Nami), asking things like "Why does she want to talk to him when I'm right here?"

He completely interrupts your conversation with the other person by inserting himself, I just kinda feel like he'd do that.

WILL demand you sit next to him at meals and get grumpy if you sit by someone else.

He can't stay mad for long, the SECOND you give him attention, he lights up again as if nothing happened.

If the other person makes you laugh, he'll immediately try to one up them by doing something goofy, trust me, I know

He will casually lean on you or put his hat on your head as a possessive gesture (LUFFY THE MAN YOU ARE)

He's so childish

ZORO

Zoro acts nonchalant but is secretly FUMING inside when someone gets too close to you.

Glares daggers at the other person, making them incredibly uncomfortable without saying a word, he's just like that

Crosses his arms and stands near you as if silently asserting dominance (ugh I need him)

He gets extra grumpy with Sanji or anyone else he sees as competition, throwing insults their way.

He physically can't hide his annoyance and mutters things under his breath like "Tch, what's so interesting about him?"

If you laugh at someone else's joke he's gonna be like "It wasn't that funny."

I feel like he gets jealous if someone compliments you, but instead of complimenting you himself, he'll grumble like "You don't need to hear that from him."

WILL position himself between you and the other person, silently blocking them from getting closer.

I think he lowkey gets clingy after cooling down his jealousy, sticking close to you but pretending it's no big deal.

When you reassure him, he'll pretend it didn’t bother him, saying stuff like "Whatever, it's not like I cared." But deep down, he's RELIEVED.

SANJI

Lord have mercy

Sanji gets visibly jealous and is UNABLE to hide it with his dramatic reactions

He definitely calls the other person out immediately, saying things like "Why are you bothering her, huh?"

He tries to pull your attention back to him by showering you with compliments and affection.

He starts offering to cook your favorite dishes after that, just to make himself seem more worthy than moss head over there

If the other person is flirting, Sanji will step in and sweet talk to you SO passionately it makes the other person back off (simp power??)

He dramatically smokes while muttering "How could she look at someone else when I'm right here..."

Tries to outdo the other person in everything, just to show he's better

WILL ask you "Do you think he's better than me?" with puppy dog eyes

100% gets extremely competitive with Zoro (if it's him you're giving attention to) insulting him while trying to impress you

When reassured, he's back to his usual lovestruck self and saying "I knew you couldn't resist me, my angel!"

Sanji just wants to feel like he's your number one, and your affection always melts his jealousy away.

ACE

MY MAN UGHH

HE'S THE REASON I STARTED ONE PIECE IN THE FIRST PLACE

Anywayss

Ace tries to play it cool, but his temper makes his jealousy pretty obvious.

If someone flirts with you, he'll casually throw an arm around your shoulders and say "She's taken, by the way."

Speaking of throwing, he definitely picks you up and completely THROWS you over his shoulder. It doesn't matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he ALWAYS manhandles you.

His freckles make it easy to spot when he's blushing out of jealousy or frustration (UGH😫)

He gets restless and starts fidgeting, for example bouncing his leg while watching you talk to someone else (is that my seat right there?)

Stares at the person with a smirk that doesn't quite hide his irritation, daring them to push their luck (you know that one scene in Alabasta where that giant scorpion was in front of him and Ace was like "I wouldn't if I were you" or something like that? Yeah, that's right🤭)

If someone compliments you, he'll immediately agree and add "Yeah, but I noticed that first."

UGH KICKING MY FEET😣

Can get surprisingly moody, muttering things like "What's so special about him, anyway?"

Might act a little childish, poking fun at the other person

WILL casually flex his strength or abilities if he feels the need to, like lighting a flame in his hand and saying "Bet he can't do this huh?"

If you reassure him or show him affection, he'll relax immediately, grinning and saying something like "Yeah, I knew you couldn't resist me."

And he's smirking at you with that stupid handsome face (I need him🚨)

★yoyomiko ★miko

[vervainandspritz]

WHEN I TOUCH HER

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy sees Y/N some time after breaking it off, she doesn't seem to notice him.. or does she?

A/N: Interact with the stories you read! It's important. Who wants something more tonight?:)

~~

People surely noticed, looking over curiously as several blinders entered the pub. Not making a ruckus of sort, slipping between other people in the fairly big crowd.

Some joined others by the table, greeting with wide grins those they know so well. Others, like John and Arthur came up to the bar, so much bigger than one in the Garrison. Three barmaids worked behind the counter, skillfully pouring all kinds of alcohol for the men in need. Known well among the people of Birmingham, they didn't have to call over to the working women to get what they came for. One of the barmaids handed over a full bottle of the finest Irish whiskey, receiving a good tip as the younger man left it on the counter, pushing it towards her with a wink.

Y/N, one of the barmaids didn't notice any of the Shelby brothers just yet, focused on the orders and techniques she taught herself so well. Tips were pouring like never before that night, as the rich guests consistently ordered more and more. A woman with such abilities was surely never seen before in any local club around here.

Night seemed to be coming to a head as the crowd slightly dispersed, giving her a much more clear view on the whole, rather massive, room. To say she saw him right away would be a lie, but Y/N could feel an intense gaze on her hands and face as she worked, cleaning up the glasses and wiping the counter down before finally looking up.

The man she avoided for over a month, more or less successfully stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched her from across the room. Despite the fact that this place was bursting at the seams, his gaze didn't falter as he watched her expression change, one much more bitter than the whiskey he held in his right hand.

”Fuck” Y/N sighed under her nose, internally rolling her eyes as she saw in her peripheral vision him slowly approaching.

Not giving him a chance to speak to her, Y/N turned around, wiping all the shelves behind her, keeping herself busy with anything, just so he wouldn't speak up. Involuntarily, the corner of her mouth raised slightly hearing his sigh of annoyance behind her back.

”Y/N” Thomas said, sitting on one of the stools. He wasn't surprised with the way she was acting, not really, knowing the situation he put them in some time ago. ”Y/N” He repeated, a little louder before dropping the glass onto the counter, causing her to huff before finally facing him.

Taking in the sight of him, already sitting by the counter, Y/N realized he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

”What the hell did I do to see you here today, Shelby?” Came out of her mouth as a greeting, her tongue effortlessly sharp as always before she cocked her eyebrow. ”Don't you have whiskey in your own pub?”

Tommy looked at her for a moment, nodding lightly with an amused smile, causing her anger to simmer even harder.

”Came to see what all the noise's about, yeah?” He offered, pushing his empty glass forward, as in a silent order for a fill up. Without missing a beat she turned it upside down, slamming against the wood in front of him.

”Unfortunately we're closing soon. Find your way out, would you?” She said, smiling so nicely in such a fake manner, Tommy internally winced.

Letting out a sigh, he got up from his chair, leaning forward on his arms.

”Don't be like that,” He insisted, looking her in the eyes.

Tommy knew how this... The whole situation looked. Without knowing the details, it was messy and he was an asshole. Like always. When usually it didn't bother him much, Tommy couldn't shake this off. So aware of what was going on in her head about him.

”Like what?” She hissed, unable to hold back the anger she held in her fear for so many days now. ”You made your choice, now don't you dare come around in a state of boredom telling me what to do!” She stated sharply, a little louder than intended which brought the attention of one of her coworkers, Diana.

She came closer, tossing the rag aside as she eyed both Thomas and Y/N, before reaching out to touch her shoulder.

”Everything alright, hun? Is this man bothering you?” She offered, narrowing her eyes without dropping his gaze.

Hearing it, Tommy smirked lightly, highly amused with how... Fitting this environment was to Y/N's combative personality.

Are all of them that feisty?

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair.

”No, Diana, it's fine he's just... A bloody idiot, he is.” She said, glaring at him before adding. ”But he's no threat. I'm fine. Get behind the bar, would you?”

After hearing an affirmative answer, Y/N grabbed a pack of cigarettes from under the counter, walking around it and heading through the door. Tommy stood there for a moment, with his eyebrows raised in surprise. Only when Diana narrowed his eyes at him, contempt clear as day in her eyes, he rolled his own before following after Y/N.

She didn't go far, as a cloud of smoke awaited him right by the entrance, in the slightly darker side of the building. Moving closer Tommy lit his own cigarette, the air around them much different as the scenery changed. The reality heaving on his heart as he saw her hardened face.

”Y/N just let me say something, aye? If after that you decide you can't be arsed to talk to me, I'll leave.” He offered, the previous confidence and cockiness in his voice now gone. A long silence followed the echo of his low, husky tone while Tommy awaited her answer, standing nearby, yet not close enough.

Her hand was super still, eyes blank as she stared ahead for a moment.

”I simply don't understand why you're bothering me now, Shelby. It's been a couple weeks and you're suddenly back like a bloody boomerang.” Y/N made sure her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, knowing that she would be able to read her eyes, so the poor lighting was an advantage she was happily using.

He walked back and fourth a couple steps, smoking the cigarette before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his black, leather shoe.

”Campbell sent her to the Garrison. She came and sang, lied to us lot sayin' she's from Ireland.” Thomas finally spoke up, taking a step forward and keeping just the minimal, necessary distance he knew she needed. His eyes locked on her as best as he could in the dark, feeling her gaze as she hears his words. ”But Polly knew, saw her by the cut with 'im. Wore a hat, thought it would be enough to fool us.” a dry chuckle left his lips. ”After a couple meetings she started spilling, believed I felt the same. Kept talkin' and I needed to have the full view before the races.” The explanation slowly started.. having sense. But not enough to calm her nerves fully.

”No need to explain it all, no it's in the past.” She said, focusing on the black material of his tie, not looking at his face. ”You've had a long time to tell me, hell, to warm me you'd go 'round with a blonde on your arm, but you didn't. Now it's– not important.” Y/N said, involuntarily stuttering by the end of her sentence.

It was all... Hard. Hard on a different level. Before it all came to a head, it was all uncertain as well. He'd come, take her places or fuck her over the counter. He'd tell her things, but never enough to make it special. Keep his arm around her shoulders in the pub but never call her his. Y/N wasn't sure what was happening between them back then, but she liked it. Felt good around the man with blood on his hands and dimples in his cheeks. The casual flings turning into something she held dear to her heart, without trying to make it hard on him with confessions.

...but then she came around, taking all his attention. Leaving Y/N feeling like nothing important, like an underwhelming fuck he'd want to forget about.

Not calling, not talking, not coming to see her.

So she moved past it, and now he was back, suddenly scooting closer and getting ahold of her hands as she finished her cigarette, ripping her out of the dark thoughts.

”He was watching you. Knew about us, I couldn't risk them taking you to jail. Not after Arthur came back barely walking.” His voice was stern, more desperate now as he saw what seemed to be indifference in her eyes. ”Look at me, Y/N” He asked, quieter, and this worked.

It always did when he talked to her gently, using the soft tone he hasn't used with anyone else. So she looked, seeing the sadness in his eyes.

”I'm looking, Thomas. It's a lot.” She admitted, her teeth nipping on her lower lip nervously.

”I know.” He responded, leaning down for a better look on her eyes. ”Today were the races. I was supposed to take her with me so she'd sing all the missing bits into my ear.” Tommy added, his voice growing husky, breathing more ragged.

”Why the hell would you tell me that now?” She asked, frustrated with his weird tactics, jealousy gnawing on her throat. Thomas smiled lightly, not noticeably seeing it.

”Because I didn't take her. Made sure she's gone for good.” Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her eyes meeting his as she searched for the truth. He was honest. Another step closed the distance between them, his firm chest pressing lightly against her own before he leaned forward, caging her between the wall. Calloused fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head up so she wouldn't look away.

Oh, how he missed the way she looked at him. These deep, expressive eyes he grew to yearn after whenever she wasn't around.

”Because when I touched her...” Tommy whispered, moving even closer. His warm breath touching her lips and chin. ”It felt like I was cheating on you.” His forehead came to rest against hers, feeling how she slightly relaxed against his body. ”I couldn't risk putting you in danger just because I so desperately need you around, Miss Y/L/N. You must forgive an old fool, eh?” His low voice slightly muffled, as his lips moved against hers in the incredibly close proximity they found themselves in.

Y/N chuckled, hearing him. The tears in her eyes remain hidden from his watchful gaze only because of the awful lighting by the pub.

”You're awful, Shelby.” She finally breathed out, leaving a small kiss, almost a peck on his lips before pushing her arms beneath his coat, wrapping them around his torso. ”Hug me, Tommy” Y/N asked quietly, touching the terrain they never explored before. The simple intimacy with no sexual undertones.

Surprisingly, Tommy couldn't imagine a better ending to this encounter as his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her face into his neck.

Resting his chin on her head, Thomas knew he was the real winner, regardless of the race results.

[blingblong55]

What Would I do?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: I woke up, wrote this in the middle of the night, listened to my sleeping playlist and decided that you could need this, so...here you go. All the events aren't written in chronological order, but rather moments at random that lead to something...I won't spoil this part, so read it, babes. I know this isn't to the quality of the latest ones I've put out but just bare with me on this one, I had a lot of ideas! And you’re more than welcome to search the title on Spotify, it’s a good song that obviously matches this fic

-- F!Reader, established!relationship, fluff, boyfriend!simon --

Boyfriend, what a word for a man like him. Is it the sweetness of your touch? Could it be the way you are so gentle with him? Maybe it's the way he found himself driving to your place instead of his own after a long day of work. Whatever it is, the answer to all his problems is you. You, you, you, and lovely you. 

From the beginning, he told you he isn't a man that will ever be called a husband. You, of course–saddened by this comment–just nodded and accepted it. He always meant it because, with the life he's had, there is no way in hell he would want to add to his worries. Plus, he doesn't need love, doesn't need the companionship. It's just him and the stress he carries. 

Then, you came in. 

"Before we begin this, I won't ever marry you, I'm not sorry if you feel bad, it's just my decision." He states and since it's a fresh relationship, you nod, "I understand." 

From then on, he didn't need to remind you. It was always in the back of your head that no matter what, he'd stay a boyfriend. Even now, five years into a relationship. Living in separate places, and different friend groups, your love for him persists and you stay through the good and bad. Maybe it's because even if you'll never wear the wedding dress in your Pinterest board, you will have him, for however long he'll have you. Please, god let it be forever. 

--

"I can't sleep," you say over the phone. This is how it started. How after one year together, he finds himself driving to your place, you didn't ask for it but he won't let your insomnia ruin your day off. What is it about you that has him finding ways to make your life better? Could it be that you drove to pick him up one time from the airport? Maybe it's the way kissing you feels? No, that can't be. Is it that you understand him? Maybe. 

Whatever it is, he unlocks your front door with the spare key you gave him. As he approaches your room, he finds you listening to the song you said reminds you of him. What's this weird feeling in his chest? Why does this scene make him feel warm? Goosebumps, no, he never gets goosebumps. 

He pushes your door gently and you turn around. "Simon, hi," you immediately pause the song, hoping he didn't recognise it in time. But he did and that caused him to smile—oh silly girl. "Hi, lovie," his voice much softer now. Hesits down, wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your head. "What's in that pretty head of yours, hm?" he asks and at the same time, you find yourself to be more comfortable in his hold. 

"Everything," you mumble and that's when you hear that deep and soft chuckle of his.

Within five minutes, he finds himself lying in bed with you, holding a book he found on your nightstand. He looks down at you, your head resting on his chest, right where it belongs. 

As you close your eyes, that's when you hear it, he starts to read out loud. Usually, he would just lay in bed until you fell asleep. But not tonight, something told him to just read to you. Is it that maybe he wants you to be comfortable? Toprovide you what you provide for him? Whatever it is, it has got him here. His voice is soothing, it's calming in many ways. He doesn't understand it, no matter how many times you explain that you love it. 

--

"Lovie?" he calls out to you when he arrives at your place. This is the first time he calls you a pet name. It feels...odd but good to do this. He steps further into your place, the lights are dim, something he knows you love because it makes the rooms more "aesthetically pleasing to walk into". "Love?" he calls out and that's when panic sets in. 

You always answer, to the first time he calls your name. 

He rushes into your room, only to see you asleep. There is a moment when his gaze softens. It's almost comical how much he has changed. How much he has wanted to change. 

He was never like this with past partners, I mean he did like them and all but with you, he is trying and trying to understand all your creases, to become someone worthy of much more than that sweet smile you give him. So, he leans by the doorway to your bedroom and watches you sleep. 

How can someone be so beautiful at all times? How can you make him feel so...good? So safe and happy? God, he loves you. And as he watches you sleep, he feels his chest warm up, something odd and for a second it feels like he is getting a heart attack. But then he realises it.

He is in love...true love. 

--

"What's this?" he asks as one day he finds you, sitting by the dining table with a cake and a candle. 

"It's your birthday, and I know you don't celebrate but...maybe this can be a one-time thing," your voice soft and that's when he feels his chest tighten. He drops his bags, makes sure the door is locked and sits beside you. He pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around you. You light up a singular candle, holding the small cake to him. 

At this moment, when the only light comes from the candle and the kitchen hood lights, he can take his mask off and appreciate how you gently sing for him. This was the first time he celebrated his birthday, well...first time in over a decade where it felt good to do so.

When he blows the candles, his gaze shifts from the cake to you. You kiss his forehead and his brows furrow whilst his eyes close. God, this is home. "Happy birthday, Simon," you whisper as you set the cake down. 

Maybe heaven is real after all. His faithless prayers were answered and his angel arrived. 

--

Coughs, headaches and long naps.

Simon has been sick for three days so far and has possibly got the best nurse around. You.

"Eat–"

"I'm not hungry, y/n," he says but you give him that mum look. "Eat, Simon." you persist and he sighs, opening his mouth as you feed him a spoonful of soup. You smile as you watch him eat. It worries you that this is the first meal he actually accepts but you're also content about it. "S'good," he comments and you nod. Of course, it's good, you think. 

As you leave the room to get him some warm tea, he lays there, appreciating the past days. He wouldn't admit it but he loves this, loves to get pampered by you. It's the first time in so long that where feels cared for, like someone out there means all the little things they do to make him feel better. 

--

Dinner at your family's house. He is nervous even though he's been here before. This time he feels different, there is something in the air tonight. He holds your hand as you walk through the threshold. 

Greeting family members was always the longest part but if you enjoy it, so will he. 'God, this wasn't me before you came in, Y/N,' he says to himself. 

Sitting around the family room, your sibling's children run around and while you get carried away talking and gossiping with your siblings, he finds himself being the centre of attention to all the children. "Uncle Simon, I want to fly like a plane again!" one of the younger kids exclaimed. You look around and see him there, holding a child in his arms, the biggest smile on him as he watches the child giggle while he parades them around the room as if they were a plane. 

He puts the child down, looks over at you and his gaze softens. Your heart melts at this. He has never looked so perfect like right now. 

On the drive home, he holds your hand in his as he drives. 

There is something in the air. Something sweet that screams future life. He looks over at you for a second then back at the road. That's how he finds himself picturing you and him, moving in together, settling down and running around the house you both call home, chasing your children while he tries to fix the light in the kitchen. 

Domesticty is what he craves when it's just you two.

--

There came a time when he lay in bed with you, shirtless with only his boxers on as he laid his head on your chest. Hisarms lazily resting at your sides, bodies intertwined while he listens to your heartbeat. Your hand caresses his back while the other runs from his neck to his hair. He hums, slowly mumbling about his day. Maybe after all havingsomeone isn't the end of the world. 

He closes his eyes, taking in the comfort of your hold, the bedsheets and the safety he feels at this exact moment. 

--

Three days, that's how long it took for a mission to last before he calls you, mid-day for him, midnight for you. "My love, where are you?" he asks in a panic. "Home, why? Is everything okay?" you ask before he cuts you off. "I was taking a nap and dreamt that you died," he says, nearly out of breath. 

"Trust me, it will be hard to get rid of me, you've got me for at least thirty lifetimes," you say with a smile and he can hear it. He loves it when you distract him with witty comments. "I better have you for more than thirty, my love," he says at that moment, the nickname feels right. More than right. He wants to keep calling you that until his dying breath. 

--

It was a random evening. You were stuck figuring out some hobby of yours as he cooked dinner. And as he waits for the food to be done baking he leans on the counter and looks out the window. 

He thought about the one time he dodged a failed relationship with you. 

What if you hadn't sat down and talked it out? Would you be in another man's arms? Would you be giving them the kisses that belong to him? What if your cuddles belonged to another guy? 

Your laugh rings in his ears and he can't imagine you laughing at any other man's jokes but his. Who but you to laugh at his jokes, your hand on his shoulder or chest as your eyes crinkle at the corners like always? 

It hits him suddenly that all those years ago when he told you that he would never be someone's husband should have never been said. You know why. It is because he won't be someone's husband, not when in his mind he has been yours all along. Sure he doesn't have the official title but the nose kisses you give him, the ones where he pretends to hate them with a grumble are something. 

--

"There is something, something I lied about years ago when I met you." he begins. You're in his lap, surely it isn't to end this sweet love. "I find myself hating on what I said, hating that it's been a lie. I love you," his voice softens at those three words, he sighs and looks into your eyes. "I have no idea what my life looks like from the outside, but when I look at my future, there is one thing I see," he clears his throat. "You, I see you and me. I always thought of myself as the guy everyone forgets about, because he had three friends and that was it."

He takes your hand in his, "And then, you came along, and I see a life, I see myself in ways I never did before. Youchanged me, you make me want to keep coming home, coming to hold you, to show you I will never break my promise." His lips find your knuckles, "I have no fucking idea what life is after you because I don't want a life after you, I want my life to be spent here. I have no clue what or who I was before you came into my life. What would I do without? No clue but I know what to do with you now," he looks into your eyes and you see how much he means every word. 

"Just promise me this, stay with me." he gently gets up and your gaze shifts as now you look up at him. "Stay, because I am nothing but a lifeless soldier, looking for someone and I'm done looking, y/n, I found you and that's all I need now," he says. 

He gets down on one knee, "Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" He asks, his gaze full of so much hope and in that moment, your heart races. Tears well up in your eyes and you nod. Speechless but with a huge grin, you nod. 

"Yes," you manage to say. You don't even notice the ring, but you feel him slide it onto your ring finger. He smiles, like a child on Christmas as he gets up and embraces you, making sure this isn't him creating an illusion. 

"Oh, my love," his voice muffled, face buried in your neck. "I love you so much and I will prove to you that this wasn't a mistake. I will make you the happiest woman alive," he says, pulling away and kissing you with conviction. 

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[simpjaes]

rimming enha and them just taking it im so hornyygfeww

this wasn't what u asked for but im feral rn so here is hyung line + ass eating. warnings: ASS EATING [my specialty]!!!!!!!!!

☆ jay:

jay would fight you at first, but he's very aware that you have far more energy to win the fight considering he spends all day every day being the perfect man for you. wouldn't take that much to have him giving in either, but he'd be nervous. Probably pulls away at the first lick or touch of his hole ;o; definitely wouldn't let you near it unless he's showered and double checked it in the mirror either. his moans tho, when he realizes how good it feels....oh boy. soft little gasps into his arm while he covers his face, feeling more vulnerable than usual bc he's so used to being the one eating you out. eventually he'd probably shyly ask for it, like "babe, remember when you..." and you[me] would be like "SAY NO MORE" while throwing his legs up in the air and holding those cheeks open with a grip that god himself couldn't tear away.

★ jake:

The type to spread his cheeks for you with both hands and look back at you with sparkly tired eyes. idk, i think you guys are aware of how i feel about jake and how biased i am towards eating his ass. he'd constantly stay cleaned up and groomed too just in case, because he's always going to ask you for it. Definitely loves when you lick the mixture of your own slick + his huge loads of cum off of it too. He would make you stay on it if you're on top, waiting for the mess to drip all the way back between his cheeks, then ask you to lick it :D and you would, because you're both nasty together and i just think thats super hot and very neat.

☆ sunghoon:

you'd have to ask him approximately six million times before he eventually lets you. wouldn't really admit that he's into it either, but you'd know solely because of the way he tries to hide jerking himself off through it. he'd never tell a soul, and feels lucky to have you remain so quiet about it too. it's like a little secret you guys share, and you'd eventually make him feel so safe with the secret that he'd maaaaaaybe start asking you for it from time to time. like, "you don't have to if you don't want to..."

★ heeseung:

you don't ask, he doesn't ask. he forces your face between his cheeks and makes you lick it as a form of humiliation. He doesn't even like it that much, but loves to call you gross because you just....you just do it? like you'd do anything for him if you're willing to eat his ass. suffocate you on it, really. I'm talking on his knees straddling your chest, face fucking you before quickly whipping around with a laugh and planting his hole right on your gasping mouth. *sigh* he's a freak.

[jayparked]

the overstimulation is becoming too much as you try to grind your hips on sunghoon's face. the soft haired boy chuckles, his breath tickling your clit in a tormenting teasing way.

"i'd tell you to use your words but..." he trails off, smirking up at you before gripping your thighs tighter and diving back into you.

your moan is stifled as sunghoon's best friend, heeseung, shoves his cock even deeper down your throat, purposefully not wanting you to answer the other boy.

"yeah, focus on me baby. i'm the one you really want, not him." heeseung holds you flush to his pelvis before slowly pulling back, leaving you gasping for air, a string of your saliva connects you to his cock. you're not sure why he's suddenly being so possessive, it's not like this is the first time the three of you have been in this situation. and usually he's the more patient and giving one among the three of you. you try not to question it too much, slightly too distracted by the feeling of another orgasm approaching you.

humming around heeseung's cock and clenching on sunghoon's tongue, you let yourself come undone one more time. sunghoon doesn't stop when your legs start to shake or when you start whimpering around heeseung.

"she's had enough man back off." heeseung pulls away only to lift you up and pull you against his chest, his arms wrapping strongly around you.

"i'm okay, hee. i want to keep going," you say confidently, but out of breath.

"great. i wanna taste you on my lips again," sunghoon groans.

"no, you've had enough. you just watch. or leave. i don't care but you need to relax." heeseung motions for the other to step back, his tone nearing that of a bite. sunghoon just shrugs, completely unaffected by heeseung's behavior, and leaves the room, mumbling something about going to get some water and to wash his face.

"it's just you and me, just how you wanted," you sing song the words playfully, still trying not to think too much on why heeseung demanded this.

"i...i don't know why i-"

"it's okay to want me for yourself. come here, i'm all yours." you pull yourself away from his arms and lay your head on the pillows, slowly opening up your legs for him. heeseung groans and turns away, one hand covering up his mouth as he clenches his jaw.

heeseung looks back at you for a moment before crawling on the bed to you, planting his lips firmly on your own. you feed into his fevered kiss, letting yourself get washed away by his passion and need. mere seconds pass before you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, but he stops just before you can clench around him.

"are you okay? we can stop if you're too sore." he looks at you with concerned eyes.

you can't help but giggle a little with how sweet he's being. "i'm okay, hee. i want this. i want you."

with that said, heeseung pushes himself into you until he bottoms out. he lets you both get adjusted before he starts moving and it doesn't take long before you're a moaning mess under him.

"f-fuck, i don't think i'm gonna last long if you keep doing that," heeseung says through clenched teeth, his pace quickening as you continue to clench around him.

"she loves doing that shit," sunghoon chuckles from the doorway, casually sipping from his glass.

heeseung's pace doesn't falter, but something flickers in his eyes, something dark and determined.

"keep moaning my name, y/n. i want him to see how i can fuck you better."

"so possessive today," laughs sunghoon again, leaving the doorframe to sit himself next to the bed, "don't worry, y/n. he's just mad i made you come so many times. he's not used to being shown up."

"shut. up." heeseung growls, grinding his hips so his cock reaches a new angle in you. and it feels so good, but all you can think about is how this will go on all night until the two men feel satisfied enough with their performances or their competitive nature finally subsides. but you know all too well that'll never happen.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[beuxwhoyouare]

Ready to Go

I always thought I would die young. I just don’t forsee a long life ahead for me. It’s not like sad or anything I just think I’ve done all I wanted to. There’s never been like a dream job or goal I’ve ever foresaw in my future. It’s not depression or anything, if anything I think more people should be honest with themselves about being useless and just tapping out of a long life of nothingness.

See. You’ve read this long and didn’t even notice I haven’t mentioned my name. That’s because like my life, my name is equally inconsequential.

I was pondering about ways to easily tap out of life while I sat at the bus stop waiting. Eventually I got on the bus at my usual stop to take me to my usual destination when an older white man slowly waved his hand in front of my wandering gaze.

“What’s out there?” he feebly asked in a weak voice.

I’ve never been asked something on my route before. I kinda just zone out into my own mind like this and-

“Hey kid. You keep zoning out are you okay?” he interrupted my internal thought.

It’s like he knew I was talking to myself but how?

“I’m just in my own head. Sorry did you want the window seat?” I finally replied audibly.

“No. Just making sure you’re okay. Was worried you were one of those druggies or something. Whole life ahead of you and you youngins just throw it all away.”

What a presumptive thought. He really believes that young people can’t have a complex and existential inner dialogue. I think older people don’t give us enough credit. I’m complex, I think.

*hehe*

What’s he laughing at. Wait maybe he is listening to my inner dialogue? Let’s see. Lemme think of something and see how he responds. I don’t want to die, I just want to peacefully tap out of the game of existence.

Damn nothing? He isn’t going to say anything? I’m losing my mind.

“Where do you want to go in life kid?”

HE HEARD ME I KNEW IT!

“I mean let’s say you manifested it enough. Maybe I’m here to help you move on. The worst thing you can do is live a life unfulfilled. It seems like that’s how you’re living.”

“You can’t be serious…What can you do?”

“It’s not really me, more like a pact to the deities that rule existence. It’s the law of the land. Everything in this world is all about balance. Even our lives, if one aspect is out of balance it could throw the whole world out of whack.”

“So what’s out of balance? Just because I’m tired of being aimless in life? It’s not like I’m the only aimless one right?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one, but you’re the only aimless one put in my life. I have so much I wanted to do but spent too much time wasted. I wanted kids, I wanted love, I wanted it all but got sick and spent years withering away in a hospital bed.”

….why is he telling me all this? What can I do about the law of the land? If I could help him I would but he’s talking about myths and hocus pocus.

The bus made an abrupt stop next to a big park near a historical reserve in town. The old man grabbed my arm and dragged me with him off the bus, across the street to the park.

“Dude your boney arm is hurting me. I’ll follow you just let me go”

“We’re here anyway. I can feel one of the deity’s presence around us. All you have to do is say your true hearts desire out loud for it to become true. You can’t move on and I can get a chance to fix my life’s shortcomings.”

My true hearts desire? Doesn’t he get it my problem is I don’t have a desire. There’s nothing fueling me.

“That! Say that out loud.”

“I KNEW YOU COULD HEAR ME! But how?”

“Your inner dialogue was calling to me like a siren. I’m telling you I was meant to hear it. To run into you! This moment was meant to happen.”

Honestly resisting the occult is too much work anyway. I don’t know why I’m even poking and prodding into his story. What is it going to do for me in the end? He’s offering me a way out.

“I don’t have desire. I don’t have a goal. I’m not sad, I’ve lived an okay life but I’m done.”

“I want a real chance to live life. I payed my dues. Please all I ask for is a real chance.”

If felt like all the sounds of nature stopped. The sun suddenly disappeared and it felt like a spotlight appeared above us. All I could see was the old man when he disappeared in front of me. It all disappeared in front of me. Then silence. Well everything was silent from then on. My request to tap out was granted.

“Keven. I like that name, I definitely look like a Keven now. This is a good place to start I think?”

I feel bad that a young person could fall out of love with existing. There’s so much young people have to live for and he just wanted to die? I’ll live the best live for the both of us.

I’m quite the looker now too so that should probably help on the having kids and starting a family front. Although he’s a little short for my liking. You know what no I’m going to be grateful for this new life I’ve been given. There’s still some memories in my head that belong to him. I think he might be gay….well I never got to explore those things in my time but it doesn’t help the kids dream.

Whatever I think starting today I’m going to be Bi. I’m gonna search through these memories and continue working out. Seems like it has a positive impact on people’s outlook and morale. Maybe that’s where the kid went wrong. He didn’t seek ways to be happy. I’m choosing happiness and choosing to be fulfilled.

Let’s start by jerking this thick beer can growing under my shorts though…and maybe seeing if this hot couple in the gym might want a newly confident Latino twunk third.

[wcnderlnds]

here for you | peter parker

・❥・ summary: after getting kicked out, peter comes to the rescue like always ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: this is my first time writing for my beloved peter parker!! its also the first time ive wrote anything in like a month. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

The rain was falling hard in New York City. It was one of those cold, rainy nights that had most people bustling through the streets with their umbrellas hurrying to get home. Unfortunately, you were one of those people. The heavy thud of the raindrops falling on your umbrella and the usual sound of the busy New York traffic were the only things keeping you grounded in that moment. The puddles on the pavement soaked your favourite pair of boots as you aimlessly wandered, suitcase full of belongings trailing along with you as you dragged it across the concrete. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. Your original plan had been to sit in front of the fire, cup of cocoa in your hand as you watched Love Actually. Too bad you had forgotten to pay your darn rent. 

Money had been tight lately. Balancing a part time job and university was no easy feat. So much so that you had ended up sacrificing your job for the sake of your mental health. You had thought your savings would be enough until you had a better grip on things to find another job but you were wrong. The well had run dry and after another missed rent payment, your landlord had kicked you out. 

When it rained, it definitely poured.

As you stepped into a particularly deep puddle, the familiar sound of a ‘thwip’ sounded above you. Craning your neck up, you spotted none other than the famous Spider-Man perched on a lamppost, head tilted as he looked at you almost like he was examining you. The corners of your lips almost tugged up into a smile as you imagined the concern in his eyes under that mask. Peter Parker had shared his secret with you almost the day he’d found out himself. You were his best friend after all – the two of you told each other everything. The eyes on his mask widened in questioning.

“Got kicked out,” you shrugged. Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. Not that walking through the streets with everything you owned in a suitcase didn’t.

After checking to make sure nobody was around to hear, Peter spoke. “Meet me at my place. Gotta take care of something first.”

With that, he swung away no doubt on his way to tackle some crime. At least in a city like New York, Spider-Man was never short of something nefarious to keep him occupied. The whole city was like a hub for superheroes and criminals at this point. It was so much so that you were almost desensitised to it. Maybe that had something to do with the fact your best friend was one of those superheroes. Your feet carried you to Peter’s apartment, knocking on the door when you approached. No answer. He must still be out. A sigh passed your lips as you sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as you waited for that nerdy, cute friend of yours to arrive. The raindrops from your jacket were dripping on the floor. Huh, you hadn’t realised it had been raining that hard. Probably too lost in your own thoughts. 

It was ten minutes later when the door to the apartment opened – Peter must have swung in through his window. The pros of being Spider-Man meant you didn’t have to deal with such meander things as walking. Sometimes you wished that spider had bit you so you could swing your way through the city without a care. His mask was in his hand as you stepped through the threshold, the door shutting behind you. His big, brown eyes looking at you with concern.

“I know you have questions and I’ll answer but I really need to get out of these wet clothes right now,” you cringed as you pulled your jacket off, your jeans sticking to your legs.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure, sure. You can… use the bathroom. You know where it is,” Peter nodded, his cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of you getting changed in his apartment. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like that but he couldn’t help himself. Throughout the years Peter had somewhat started to develop feelings for you. It was something he beat himself up about every single day because there was no way you felt the same way for him. Why would you? You were incredible and he was… him. No, Peter would always keep this secret to himself. There was no way he was ever going to lose you so if it only meant friendship then he’d take it.

“You should have told me you were struggling to pay rent!” Peter exclaimed. Once both of you had gotten changed, you’d situated yourselves on Peter’s couch, a blanket thrown over the two of you as you filled him in on your situation.

“Peter, no offence but you can barely afford to pay your own rent let alone help me.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

A smile lit up your face, hand reaching out to give his a squeeze. “I know and I am so lucky to have someone like you looking out for me like that but I could never ask that of you.”

Peter’s eyes glanced down at your hand atop his, barely containing how sweaty his palm was starting to feel at your simple touch. He was down bad. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a gulp, shaking his head. “You know I’m always going to be there for you, right? Always. No matter what happens. I would do anything and everything in this world to help you and protect you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

His words hit you straight in the feelings, your heart beating a mile a minute like it was about to burst out of your chest. The sincere look in his eyes, the way he always seemed to make you his number one priority – there was nobody who looked after you as fiercely as Peter did. Despite everything he’d been through with his family and losing Gwen, he had never let you down. The second your eyes met his it was like the whole world had stopped still. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as Peter’s delicate fingers reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture making your stomach do flips.

“Stay here with me…. for as long as you want,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you leaned into his touch. The moment lingering between you, neither wanting it to end. There would be many, many more moments just like this one – you just didn’t know it yet.

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

when you made a mistake of saying Rose isn’t straight on tiktok and now you have 250 people proving you she didn’t love Pearl:……..

you want to know something very ironic?

susan egan, the voice of rose quartz, brings up pearl + rose’s relationship every. chance. she can get. & she describes them as having a relationship! she brought them up in the recent livestream, she sang the rose with pearl’s va on youtube. so many people who work for steven universe have stated that the love between pearl and rose is mutual. voice actors and storyboard artists have portrayed the characters as being in a relationship. rebecca sugar even confirmed that they’re not unrequited. the people who made pearlrose, essentially, either ship them or at the very least see their dynamic as being one that involves mutual feelings that go beyond platonic.

“i don’t know if i would call it unrequited!” — rebecca sugar interrupting an interviewer who describes pearl + rose as unrequited

“if it’s not, then i’ve misunderstood the whole thing!” — storyboarder raven molisee, also responsible for rose’s scabbard, when asked if the relationship between pearl + rose is romantic.

“i LOVE these two so i was absolutely ecstatic to draw this scene. i remember being really pressed to pack all of their passion and pearl’s smugness into one moment that lasts the length of a guitar solo… and their fusion that’s just an embodiment of that into one giant, shamelessly beautiful dancer!” — katie mitroff about fusion in we need to talk

rose quartz is my comfort character & even that is an understatement. she’s so much like me and she’s so meaningful, and i wish that more of the fandom could see this.

the way that her character is perceived really reflects some of the issues that we see in real life as well.

she’s amazing for understanding mental illness & trauma and that responses to pain are not always pretty. things are complicated & so are people. some people in the steven universe fandom want to oversimplify things by often making her a heartless villain. on the other hand, i feel like some rose fans act like she’s done nothing wrong or they like to downplay her issues and mental health struggles. not necessarily here, but elsewhere. some people hate the idea that rose’s decision to give up her physical form was self destructive, but it absolutely was. she’s not a villain but she is a cautionary tale. she has a big heart but she’s absolutely flawed. she never wanted to hurt anyone, but she did.

she’s amazing for body positivity in ways that go beyond simple things like appearance, but people are… so weird about it sometimes. i still remember being twelve years old & reading comments about how rose was “pretending to be fat” the whole time after the pink diamond reveal. that was… really upsetting to read! six years later, i’m trying to help folks understand that this is not the case. there’s so much more depth and detail and comfort, really, than those silly reddit jokes and fandom hostility.

… and she’s amazing for sapphic representation. she’s canonically m-spec but the fandom can be so, so weird about that. as a bisexual girl myself, it bothers me so much that we need to convince so many people that she loved pearl while pretty much everyone validates her relationship with a man. not only validates… they see it as perfect and better and i don’t usually see people talk about the many flaws of that relationship. yes, pearl + rose’s relationship was flawed too. rose has a pattern of unstable relationships! but people can be codependent and genuinely in love at the same time. they can be in bad situations but they can still be… genuinely in love. & pearl and rose’s relationship is not less valid because people perceive their relationship as… more flawed than the other relationship (mainly because lots of people don’t think about the other relationship’s issues)

the biggest misconception of pearl and rose’s relationship is that their love wasn’t real

the biggest misconception of rose and greg’s relationship is that they got married

that’s very interesting to me.

if rose isn’t seen as a straight up villain, i find that lots of the fandom puts so much importance on two things: having a relationship with a man, and being a mother. & as a girl who relates to her, i think there’s so much more to her character and i’ll stop there because i have an entire thing i wrote about rose & the fandom here! /np/nf

i’m sorry about the fandom, anon. i’d go on tiktok and defend you but i don’t have a tiktok account because of my adhd (racing thoughts + a bunch of videos about different things at once = not my favourite app). you’re absolutely right and i wish more people understood that.

[blackenedsnow]

HII I was wonderin if you could write something for pickles the drummer where his s/o (gn) is possesive/protective of him?? I feel he deserves some doting I'd love to sucker punch Seth lmao

It can be a fic or hcs whatever is easiest pls and thank you 🔥🔥

pickles the drummer with a protective s/o ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Pickles the Drummer x Reader

NOTE: Hiii!! Thank you so much for this request—Pickles 1000% deserves some dotes, and Seth definitely deserves a punch or five, lol. Hope you enjoy this! Wishing you all the best!!

Let’s start with the obvious: you get it.

Pickles has that undeniable energy—he’s reckless, impulsive, and way too good at making bad decisions seem like good ideas.

But, man, he’s your reckless little rockstar, and that’s something you make known.

Anytime someone gives him a hard time (which is a often), you’re right there to step in.

Seth, especially, seems to test your patience.

The second he starts one of his “better brother” rants, you’re practically at his throat.

Pickles doesn’t even try to stop you.

He just watches like it’s a front-row seat to the best show he’s ever seen.

When it’s not family drama, it’s usually industry people looking to exploit Pickles’ talent or his tendency to… overindulge.

You’re sharp as a knife when you see them sniffing around him.

Whether it’s shady producers or party-goers trying to push something on him he doesn’t need, you have no problem cutting them off at the pass.

You know how people joke about those people who say, “They’re taken” when someone flirts with their s/o?

That’s you, but in the most unapologetic, territorial way possible.

Someone gives Pickles that look across the bar, and you’re sliding right up next to him with a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey, Pickles. You making friends over here?”

Nine times out of ten, the flirters back off.

The tenth time?

Well, they learn quick.

Pickles isn’t used to being looked after like this, especially since so many people in his life expect him to be a trainwreck 24/7.

It’s honestly kinda overwhelming for him, but he loves it.

He might brush it off with a joke at first (“Aw, babe, you don’t hafta scare the roadies for me!”), but you catch him sneaking little smiles at you when you’re not looking.

He LOVES how much you hype him up.

You think he’s gorgeous, talented, and worth fighting for, and he soaks that up like a sponge.

On his more vulnerable days, though, when life weighs heavy on him, that’s when your protectiveness means the most.

He’ll sit with you on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, and you’ll remind him he’s more than what the world tries to reduce him to.

Oh, and if Seth tries to start shit again?

You’ve got a punch with his name on it.

“Man, you really do love me, huh?”

“Pickles, I would burn the world down for you.”

“Aw, babe, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

[kingdomaddiction]

I can’t stop thinking about my Fragmented SQH AU so here I go:

—

Obviously Shang Qinghua is not fine. He tries to be, really. The story is over, his son is finally happy with the love of his life and the world didn’t end. Even his ex-husband (they never got a divorce, Qinghua technically died, does it count as one?) is now free! And his cute and socially awkward King is trying his best to treat him like a friend instead of a servant.

Still, Qinghua yearns.

Sometimes, when no one is looking, he touches his flat stomach and remembers his pregnancy when he lived as Su Xiyan. A strange, lovely feeling to carry someone inside you. Unforgettable. He misses those days, but not so much. Too stressful, always running and hiding in order to protect her little one.

Other days he gets lost in the memories of his life as a washerwoman. Sad, grey days were those. Binghe was her little sunshine, the only reason she kept waking up everyday until her frail body could no more.

He remembers Binghe’s first words, his first steps. He even remembers the things he used to whisper to calm him down after a bad nightmare, kissing his tears away. Back then she used to dream for a better live, hoping to live long enough to see her baby boy grow up and marry someone kind.

He got to see Binghe grow up, yes, but only from afar. Qinghua had to restrain himself many times from killing Shen Qingqiu pre transmigration. Seeing his son cry with no way to comfort him was torture. Or so he thought. Because living right now so close to him and only being victim of his hatred is way worse.

“The traitor.”

“That rat.”

“Pathetic—“

It was too much.

He did deserve it. Qinghua did nothing to stop the stop fate (why was Shen Yuan allowed to change the rules when he was forced to hurt his son?) but it still hurt so much.

So it was no surprise when a few tears rolled down his face after a specially mean comment. A few demons from the court snickered, but Binghe just looks at him with a mixed of confusion and surprise, recognizing the tears as real and not the fake kind Qinghua usually shed around Mobei. He doesn’t feel guilt, because if it isn’t Shizun he does not care, but is still odd to witness.

Shang Qinghua just bows and leaves. He cries the whole way to his rooms. It’s depressing, he knows, but he must endure this. This is his penance, right? Now he must face it.

He tries not to stare at Binghe too much after that or even speak in his presence, but it only draws his attention. Binghe seems to attack him more often as if trying to test something, curious to see his reaction. Why? Qinghua doesn’t know, but it can’t be good. His love for his son does not blind him of his cruelty.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—‘

Why did his little sunshine had to become such a fearful and cruel emperor? Why couldn’t he remain small, and cute and kind? Why in the world did he write that cursed story?

He sighs giving Binghe a quick glance. The young demon looks tense. Qinghua is sure his bad mood is mostly for Shen Qingqiu’s absence, who left a few days ago for serious sect business (yeah, right— you just wanted a break from your clingy husband bro) and hasn’t returned yet. On top of that the last few meetings at court has been terribly stressful. So many demons playing mind games can be exhausting.

Qinghua even after feeling hurt by Binghe feels the need to comfort him. To tell him his doing great and will find a solution. What can he say? The love of a mother (should he say father? He is currently in man’s body, but he took care of Binghe as a woman—) never fades.

It’s a silly idea, but Qinghua sneaks into the kitchen to prepare a little snack. Steamed millet buns. Very cheap and easy to make. He only needed millet flour (which was even cheaper than rice and widely cultivated in poor areas) and water. If they happen to be lucky enough to have more ingredients available then Qinghua added salt or a bit of onions. It used to be Binghe’s favorite— well, he said “everything mama makes is Bing-Bing favorite!”

Ah, he used to be so cute.

He finishes making the buns and brings him back to the court room. The other demon lords are gone and Binghe looks like he has a migraine. Qinghua approaches carefully trying to be brave.

“Junshang…” he calls softly. Before he can say something more Binghe opens his like he’s searching for something and sniffs the air. Then he finally looks at him, well, the tray in his hands.

“What is that?”

“Ah… steamed millet buns, my lord. I— I made them… for you?” Binghe just keeps staring at him as if he had grown another head. Qinghua clears his throat. “This servant thought Junshang should eat something after a long day.”

Binghe looks at the tray, then at him, then the tray again and he seems like his about to reject the offer. Qinghua holds his breath, already preparing for the burning sensation of rejection. Instead Binghe surprises him by saying:

“Bring it here.”

The peak lord nods and feels so excited he almost trips in his way to the throne. He offers the buns and Binghe stares at them with mild disgust (maybe because his treacherous shishu made them) and after long consideration he finally takes one.

He gives it a sniff before taking a big bite.

Binghe’s eyes open wide and for a brief moment they seem to shine. He keeps eating one after the other and Qinghua feels his heart fill with warmth at the sight remembering when Binghe was 3 years old and tried the buns for the first time.

“I’m glad Junshang enjoyed the buns.” Said the cultivator with a small but honest smile.

Binghe seems to finally realize what he had done and cleans the crumbs with his sleeve.

“Shang… shishu,” Wow, really having a hard time respecting your elders, huh, mister? “… made this on his own?”

“This one did!” He says proudly. “If Junshang desires this servant can always prepare more“ Qinghua offers because he knows his son enough to know he won’t ask for them again even if he loved them.

“… Do as you wish.” Oh, someone has been spending some time with his King. Doesn’t matter.

This is a good sign, right? First positive interaction with his son since forever— oh! Maybe he can prepare him some congee and mantuo next time? Yes! He can’t wait!

…

// Binghe’s angrily eating buns the next day in his room, crying: I miss my mom (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) stupid rat—

[cristaq]

do you ever think about how Price and Soap have the same first name?. because i do.

about when they here someone call out “John” they look for the other.

about them calling each other “Johnny” when all alone.

about Price not being able to stand to hear his own name after Soaps death…

I read this just after waking up and damn you anon for making me feel stuff that early in the day! So I will give you all my name related thoughts and please do add if there’s anything missing.

I do think a lot about it, from a writer’s perspective, since I can’t write things like <“Let’s go!” John said.> because which John are we talking about?? 

Jokes aside, their names are foreshadowing Soap becoming Price. They are two sides of the same coin. Besides that, I imagine them calling each other John in their most solemn and serious moments. Otherwise, they usually resort to Price and Soap most of the time, even when in private. Since they can’t display public affection, I think that they unconsciously ended up charging these names with incredible emotion. People hear Soap, but Price actually says “Come here, love.”. People hear Price, but Soap actually says “I missed you.” These names carry a secret endearment that lets them interact as lovers even in public. So it just naturally carried over to their private life as a reminder of who they are, under what circumstances they’ve met and what they are fighting for. They don’t have to invent nauseating pet names. They are Price and Soap, but also Price (with a soft gaze) and Soap (with a sly smile). 

Exceptions are made for “old man” and “muppet”, which started as innocent teasing, but ended up as so much more. They are used to poke light fun at each other, but also as a form of endearment.

But!! In their darkest hour, when sincerity is crucial, John slips out. “John, I’m not going anywhere!” “I swear we'll make it, John!” “Wait for me, John!” It’s their way of signing a contract with blood, the firmest handshake in the world. When they hear the name out in the world, it’s very funny to see both of them turn around like two prairie dogs, one of them with half a slice of bread in his mouth. How could their fates be even more intertwined??

The death part hits hard. When Price hears John he expects someone else to turn around with him. But there is no one now. He stops answering to John. And people soon stop calling him that. I like to imagine that when Price kills Makarov, besides the “This is for Soap!” he says “This is for John!” because it is for both of them. 

[championofthefade]

Here is what I do like about Veilguard.

Long story short: While I have some gripes about the game, there are the things I do like about Veilguard. I have 150 hours in this game and I’m a slow player. (I also love lore.)

Gameplay! Which surprised me because I didn’t like playing warrior or rogue in the other games. But I think Veilguard does have cool playstyles that I thoroughly enjoy.

My current run is a Nightmare Grey Warden Warrior, that’s going to romance Harding, uses sword and shield. The war hammer is a bit slow to me but I’m definitely going to try it in another run.

(I also have another run going beside this to play a Veil Jumper-Veil Ranger to romance Bellara with as a break from Nightmare.)

I usually pick playing a mage (I like magic), but having played a Rogue Laidir (romanced Neve) and a Mage Ingellvar (romancing Lucanis again) as well has been so much fun!

I don’t do crazy builds because I’m just here for the story, but the combat is genuinely fun to me.

Though I find Lords of Fortune kinda lacking, I enjoy the factions. Mourn Watch is my favorite by far, and I think the leaders/contacts are everything. As someone who has only consumed the games of Dragon Age, these people (Viago & Teia, Evka & Antoine) make me want to pick up the book they are in. (Tevinter Nights I believe.)

I love, love, love, love, LOVE the level designs! Weisshaupt is possibly one of my favorite missions to play, along side anything in Treviso and Blackthorn Manor. They are very special to me! I love exploring areas, and wish they weren’t always level locked but I get it.

Though I haven’t figured out how to fix the annoying garbling audio bug I have in heavily dense areas like Arlathan, Treviso and Minrathous, otherwise I have a good time.

I enjoy the romances as they are, and can acknowledge that they feel flat. I am constantly giggling like a blushing idiot when I flirt with everyone because it’s honestly good for what it is! Yes, I think we’re missing content and the pacing is weird, but I like it because there are little moments where you get the feel of the companions personality. (Davrin’s Thrill of the Chase is honestly a must have every play through until I pull a reverse Zevran on his ass!)

And the different romances have given me seven new ocs to explore and revisit whenever I want!

I’m the kind of person that plays ‘everyone gets a girlfriend unless I have to play a man’. Dorian Pavus is a special case and I would do it again for him. Anything for the archon.

Sidebar: Okay yeah, it’s interesting that if you choose Treviso that Dorian becomes Archon, because if you choose Minrathous you can choose between Dorian and Maevaris. Hearing Mae say this isn’t the South was what made me think more deeply about choosing Dorian for my Laidir run. Because Dorian’s revolution vs Mae’s talks was kinda pointless because they could’ve easily co-piloted change in Tevinter, I mean they support each other no matter what already, why not just co-pilot the big chair? I get Dorian’s POV of everything must go in order to change (echoes of Anders and Divine Leliana) and that’s why I choose Dorian. Because sometimes talk doesn’t work.

Anyway, moving on.

I think of the endings, I like the tricking Solas one and the Solavellan / Inquisitor Friendship ones the most. If my Inquisitor wants to stop Solas, I will just skip using Mythal’s essence altogether for the sake of keeping true to what I headcanon for my oc, you know? (Though, most of my Inquisitors hold Solas in a high regard so it’s rare that I don’t try to save him.)

I like the codex entries, some of them feel very personalized, though I wish Rook had more mentions like the grocery list where they requested chocolate. (Inquisitor’s unhealthy obsession with elfroot makes a comeback?)

Important game information shouldn’t be tucked away in the codex, but it’s still enjoyable to sit and read the little references. (TR signed Rocking Griffons have my heart!!)

I wanted to see more of the Evanuris, and wished we didn’t brush by the revelation we just uncovered the origins of the Chantry. (Poor Harding.) I think we got lucky that the other Evanuris aren’t around anymore. Would’ve been an absolute nightmare to deal with.

I don’t like the dragon fights! How dare the Dragon Age for me to fight the dragons that are coming back! Leave ‘em alone (lovingly).

Yes, I think there are areas where this game needs improvement (lore consistency, player agency, etc.) but I like Veilguard for what it is and can see myself returning to more often than the previous installments.

Veilguard has potential, I just think it’s a matter of time for me to get through the gripes I have with it.

[deleteddewewted]

Supermarket Romance p2

Modern! Titus x Gn! Reader

S: Titus goes back to the supermarket as he needs ingredients for a new recipe that his gyms security guard recommended trying. He gave himself the liberty to wear a hoodie this time as he wasn't feeling all too well. He wasn't expecting to see you again nor that you asked him a question. (Cairon makes a brief appearance here!)

W: PTSD episodes, Depression, Anxiety Disorders, Reader is a broke Artist, Titus works as an Analyst for a company, Ableist comments (From Titus and to Titus)

He didn't know what to think about his appearance at the moment. If anything, he was trying to not think about it. He was wearing shorts, which he usually wore for semi-formal occasions, and a hoodie, which he had for the gym. His leg was acting up again, the weather and his lack of use of his knee brace created bigger problems for him. He knew he should have worn it the last time he worked out but he felt too embarrassed to wear it out in public. He thought people would stare or pass judgment if he did so he left it in his gym bag. He didn’t think to much about it anyways. He just needed to grab a few things to make a recipe that the security guard at the gym he goes to suggested.

Cairon was a hulking figure, especially for a security guard. He was an ex veteran like himself, was younger than Titus by a few years, and he was discharged after losing his arm during an explosion. The man seem to take his injury in stride unlike Titus. He constantly encouraged Titus, was motivational to all who walked in, made sure to keep everyone in check. Cairon was a ray of sunshine that Titus couldn’t seem to damper. Not that he wanted to but it was a little much at times. Cairons eagerness to help and be there became overwhelming at times but Titus also welcomed it. The man approached him first after all, made sure to help him find the locker room and the private gyms if he ever needed a moment to himself. Titus thought the younger man might have picked up on his disability and that’s why he was being kind but no, Cairon picked up on Titus’ discomfort for overly loud and crowded spaces. Ever since their first meeting Cairon has been a constant presence in Titus’ life and the older man appreciated that. He even told Titus that he should wear his brace and that not wearing it would just make things harder on himself.

Titus was paying the price for it now. His knee more than anything was killing him and his entire leg felt like it was ready to collapse under him while he gauged the prices of the cabbage. He leaned on his other leg instead, hoping to gain some relief.

"Are they any good?" A voice asked from beside him. He turned to look at the person but didn't see anyone. He looked down instead and found you staring at the cabbages.

"Im thinking of getting one but im not sure. I don't think ¢.76 the pound is worth it for a cabbage." You rambled on. He didn't know what to think, he kind of just blinked at you hoping that his brain would help him push the words out of his mouth. What was he supposed to say? This wasn't the first time he's talked to you but this was the first actual conversation he was contemplating having with a stranger.

"Hmm, i think its cheaper at the corner store." You turn around and just leave, not even bothering for a response from him.

Titus just watches you leave, the words stuck in his throat as he turns back around and processes what happened. Your scent was something he picked up. You smelled nice, earthy even. He wanted to ask what cologne or perfume he used. Maybe it was your body wash. It was comforting and reminded him of one of his bunk buddies who was into hygiene and always looking presentable.

He didnt keep track where you going but every so often he did bump into you. You seemed to be on a tighter budget than last time, only grabbing a few items that where on clearance or expiring soon. He noticed that you had a lot of meat in your basket and ziplock bags. Maybe you were freezing them so they would last longer, he thought to himself. Now that he thought about it, his recipe did call for meat and he was yet to get any.

His hands began to sweat and his hands trembled as he thought about it. He could use this as his excuse to talk to you, to introduce himself and be pleasant. His therapist had suggested he start socializing with other people outside of his work and gym. He could do this, he told himself. He siked himself up, took a few deep breathes, and walked over to you.

You were looking at some potatoes, thinking if it was worth buying them since there was no way you would be able to preserve them. Your fridge was having issues and you were worried about the moisture in your apartment. Either way, the potatoes would mold quickly and it would be waste unless you tried eating only that for the next week and a half. The thought made you sick.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice came from behind you. You jolted before moving to the side hoping you hadn’t taken too much space so he could grab whatever he wanted from the produce section. But he never reach forward to grab anything. Instead, he was facing you. You swallowed hard before turning to face the man. It was the kind stranger who gifted you the ice cream from last time. He looked menacing, he practically loomed over you and his clothes didn’t help disuade that feeling.

“Hey there, stranger.” You replied. You hoped that your nervousness wasn’t noticeable. You felt like you were practically sweating buckets. His gaze was intense, his eyes half lidded and looking into your soul as his face betrayed no emotion.

“Is there any good sale on the meats?” His question didn’t feel like a question, more like an observation. You didn’t know how to feel about it. The man gave ex con or ex military vibes and it was starting to make you nervous just how big he was.

“Uh…yeah, there’s some good deals. It’s half off if you get the clearance stuff. You just need to ask butcher for the cuts you want.” You felt awkward and out of place. Not an unusual feeling but it was made more intense by the man in front of you. He didn’t even react to the information you age him, he merely blinked at you before nodding his head and thanking you.

“Thank you for the information. I’ll make sure to check with the butcher.” He looked like he was going to take his leave, his body already turning to leave, but he stops himself.

“My name is Titus.” It was your turn to blink at him. Titus. The name was so… pristine. Elegant even. It sounded so modern yet old and it flowed with a nice bounce. You could practically taste the pronunciation of his name on your tongue.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Titus. I’m Y/n.” You offered your hand to him but he ignored it and walked away instead. You sighed and turned back to the potatoes.

“Titus, what a lovely name.” You thought to yourself. You with an amused smile on your face, you walked towards the cash register to check out.

Titus sped walk away from the produce area as quickly as he could. His leg was killing him and the muscles in the appendage were set ablaze. But he ignored it. His heart was pounding in his chest and the air around him felt heavy. He spoke to someone new today and they didn’t run away! A small spark of joy bloomed in his chest as he went over the interaction in his head. You smiled at him, you spoke to him, you met his gaze. You weren’t disgusted by his appearance but instead you treated him like he was any ordinary man. It was thrilling to him. And yet, he wondered if you stayed cause you truly wanted to speak to him. His joy dwindled but he did accept that it was progress. His therapist was sure to be thrilled with this new development. In the mean time, he mulled over your name. He thought it was nice and fitting for you. You looked like your name, for however silly the thought was. A lovely name for a kind looking person. He wondered if this meant you would speak to him the next time you meet. If he could approach you. Would that ok? Would it be welcomed? Doubts consumed him but he pressed on. He made his way over to the small butcher shop in the store and asked for their clearance cuts. He grabbed a few he liked or thought would be easiest to cook and made his way to the front of the store to pay. He couldn’t spot you in any of the lines but he did spot you waiting at the bus stop once again.

He bagged and grab his things and and this way back to his car. As he loaded his things he noticed you get on the bus with all of your bags and leave. He wondered what kind do life you lived. What minute inconveniences you might have in your own life. What were your motivations. He shook his head and closed his trunk. He sat in the drivers seat and gave himself a few minutes to prepare for the drive ahead of him. He hoped that this issue would go away sooner rather than later like his therapist had told him. But he knew better than to rush himself to drive when he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want to have to stop on the side of the highway again because of an episode. It would make the trip twice as long and twice as painful.