#Age Less Night Therapy

[mitchellusa]

It’s raining skin problems! Don’t blame but simply tame

The rains have started pouring. Along with it comes pouring the skin woes. Extra moisture, humidity and oiliness of skin. Thus leading to a series of skin issues. A lot of these can be handled during our sleep. While you get your shut eye, loads of problems can also be shut down for good. So, let’s know the secret of soothing while sleeping. Time to unlock the hidden trick.

Unravel the secret

A secret that exists for thousands of years but is kept under wraps! The mystery of which lies in a flower! And is unearthed by an iconic brand to unlock the age-old wisdom of radiance from within.

The history of the Sacred Lotus goes back a long way. The mention of this unique blossom is mentioned in ancient scriptures across the globe and also in Indian Puranas, Vedas and all scriptures. The commonality remains across cultures that the Lotus (Nelumbo Nucifera) held the secret of health, beauty and longevity. Be it in India or China it is categorically stated that Buddhist monks cherished this Sacred Lotus Flower. They cultivated Lotus blossoms in the rivers and believed it held the secret of life. They taught their disciples that the universe was formed from the heart of the Lotus Seed. And after thousands of years, we are compelled to believe that they were right.

In a UCLA study conducted by plant physiologist Jane Shen-Miller, an ancient Lotus seed germinated after lying dormant for over 1,200 years. It was the oldest seed ever found and was discovered in the 1920s in a deposit of Lotus fruits in a dry lake bed at Pulantien, China. It is ‘the oldest demonstrably viable and directly dated seed ever reported,’ according to the report in the American Journal of Botany. The seedling has been growing since March 1994, and continues to demonstrate “robust” growth.

Thus germinated the idea of AGE-LESS by Mitchell! And who can be best benefitted now? The answer is loud and clear- The Bride and the wedding goers! The crux being just like the 1288-year-old sacred lotus, anyone can rise from the mud, bloom out of darkness and radiate into the world.

Though created in the USA, the Age-Less range has been rediscovered and redesigned for the Indian skin. Understanding tropical skin conditions and developing products using the knowledge of Sacred Lotus, was the deepest challenge.

Unlocking the potential of Sacred Lotus

Mitchell’s effective AGE-LESS regime for flawless, younger skin came in to address the woes. A good daily skin care routine has always remained vital to keep skin clean, hydrated, protected, healthy and glowing. And the range designed with the power of magical Lotus power, takes care of this regime in entirety right through Cleanse, Tone, Moisturize and Protect. So let’s get monsoon-ready with soothed skin to show off!

The AGE-LESS Night Therapy with the Sacred Lotus Seed, Matrixyl and Argireline repairs and replenishes aging skin overnight. It reduces fine lines and wrinkles, and specially nourishes dry & dull skin. All you have to do is apply every night after the serum, slowly in upward movements with constant tapping. Gently massage onto dry and cleansed skin and see it transform while you get your sleep.

Let the rain fall or the sunshine, you are now ready to take on the day after a good night’s sleep. As morning will show the day, you can show off your shiny skin too now that you have taken care at night. Get some good rest and rise and shine.

[cinematicnomad]

holy shit your eyeliner????!!!! i bow down before your skill. may your hangover be as brief as possible.

lolll thank you v much 😅 i've got ONE skill and it's making my eyeliner sharp. you are VERY sweet for the compliment 🥰

my hangover is lingering—i've never been good at sleeping when drunk, so i passed out shortly after i got home and was awake by 3:45AM. at the v least i've been sitting still for the last hour so the nausea has gone away lol

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[mintmatcha]

In the future when they meet again, does sero ever find a way to make amends? Does he explain what he was going through?

He enters the room with your name on his lips.

You still push up your glasses the same way you always did - your palms on the bottom of the frames- and Sero kicks himself for not seeing it earlier. You've changed, of course. Ten years have passed, but your eyes are the same. The downward curve of your lips and the round of your nose: it's all unmistakably you. When you push away from your desk, it's with a confidence you never had back then, and it almost makes him smile.

"Who told you it was me?" you ask. "Eijiro?"

"No," he says. "I remembered all on my own."

It's only a half lie. Bakugo had called you Cram School and the memories had flooded back. The late night anime sessions, the whispered confessions-

The way he ghosted out of your life without warning.

"What do you want, Sero?" you sigh. "How did you even find me?"

Sero had called for a couple favors to track you down. Luckily, you worked with Uraraka's organization now, as a therapist. All those nights at cram school really did work out; you're a doctor, apparently.

"I just-" He breathes in to center himself, hands jammed in his pockets. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For just--"

"Leaving me?"

"Yeah." The takes that blow in stride, despite the sting. "For disappearing on you."

"Okay." You lean back in your chair, legs crossed. "I don't forgive you."

"Good. Right. Yeah." That hurts worse. "You shouldn't."

You sit there, hands folded, in silence, watching from over your glasses in silence. He wonders when you got so serious, how you lost that sparkle in your eye. Then, he wonders if he even has the right to know.

"I was a fucked up kid, I was going through a lot." Sero steps forward. "My dad was really -"

You interject. "Sorry, I don't offer therapy for anyone over the age of eighteen. Try Dr. Yun down the hall."

Fuck. God, you're witty. You always manage to steal the wind from his sails with a single cut.

"I'm not trying to-" He huffs, trying to remember to advice his actual therapist gave him. "I just want things to be right between us."

"To make yourself feel better?"

"No, because it's the right thing to do when you hurt someone."

This time, you're the one left silent. Your expression goes softer, wider, like you're genuinely surprised.

"I don't need you to forgive me. I don't think you should forgive me," Sero says. "I just want you to be okay."

He takes a half step in, then a full. Then you don't kick him out, he goes directly to your desk.

"Here. I got this for you. Back in high school." He places a little box in front of you, its label faded and partially ripped from time. "I messed up before I had the chance to give it to you."

It takes you a moment to process what's in front of you. It's a little pink figure, maybe a little less than pristine, but still standing there, arms splayed. The sure look on your face starts to drift, falling down, down-

"She's your favorite, right?" Sero urges.

Your expression doesn't get better. No, you look seasick, your legs suddenly untucked and your arms gripping your stomach.

"She's-" he falters. "You like Flora, I thought, was I-?"

"Get out of my office." Your voice is softer now too, closer to what he remembers.

"I thought you'd like it."

"Get out."

He backs up a step, hoping you'll change your mind. When you don't, he retreats down the hall, unsure of whether he did something right or not.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Five.

Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.7k

Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.

Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.

A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.

It's been three months since you left home.

It's been three months since you saw Bucky.

He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.

He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.

You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.

The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.

Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.

And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.

On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.

You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"This is ridiculous."

Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.

"Good ridiculous?"

She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.

"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."

Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.

"I need these on the menu."

"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."

"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."

"Okay. Fine."

You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.

You know it's because of your Tethering.

Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.

And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.

Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.

It takes time to adjust.

No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.

For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.

For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.

Both are valid. Both are understandable.

You remind yourself of this every day.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."

The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.

"Who is it?"

"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."

Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?

You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.

You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.

He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.

"Hi."

"Hey. Are you the baker here?"

"I am."

He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.

"I'm Rafael."

You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.

"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."

You don't say anything, so he continues.

"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."

You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.

"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."

You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.

You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.

"You're really talented, you know."

"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."

His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.

"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."

"You'd do that for her?"

"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."

"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.

"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."

He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.

"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."

You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.

"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."

The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,

"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."

His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.

"You are?"

"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."

"You guys are married?"

"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."

"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"

You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.

"He's my Dad's best friend."

You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

"That... is complicated."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."

Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.

"How did your parents react?"

"They don't know yet."

His eyebrows raise almost comically high.

"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."

"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."

"Understatement of the century," he laughs.

You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.

"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."

"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."

He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.

"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."

"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"

"Sure does."

You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."

"Thanks, Rafael."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Of course."

That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."

"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"

"What kind of surprise?"

"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."

"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."

"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."

"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."

"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."

"I know," you smile. "I know."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.

You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.

You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.

You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.

You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.

You know who it is.

A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.

You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.

He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.

He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.

He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.

"You're here."

You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.

"I'm here."

Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.

"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."

He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.

"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.

"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."

"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."

"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."

"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"

He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.

"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."

You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.

"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.

"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."

"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."

"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."

"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.

"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."

"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.

He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.

"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."

"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."

"Miss you more."

He looks at you, smiling.

"Man, we're the worst."

"Truly."

He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.

It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.

There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.

"Surprise!"

You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.

"Oh my God! You guys!"

She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.

He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.

"I got you something. I hope you like it."

That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.

"Happy Birthday, Mama."

She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.

She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.

"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."

"Missed you. You look beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."

You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.

"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."

You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.

You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.

What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.

When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.

"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"

His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.

"I have to."

"Oh yeah?"

"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."

He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.

"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."

"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."

His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.

"One dance," you whisper.

He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.

I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.

Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"That was close!"

Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.

"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."

"Mama, are you sure?"

"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."

"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."

She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.

"Love you both."

"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"

"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"

You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.

"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."

You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.

"It's not the same here without you."

You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.

You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.

"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"

He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.

"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."

"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."

"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."

"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."

He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."

He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.

"Okay. I promise."

You whip your head around to look at him.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."

"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I feel it."

You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.

"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.

"I have. What for?"

"The couch."

You process for a moment before it clicks.

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."

"No?"

"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."

He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."

You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.

"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."

Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.

"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."

You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.

Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.

"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"

You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.

"Please, Buck. Anything."

"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."

He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Yeah?"

"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."

Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.

"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.

You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.

Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.

You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.

He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.

"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."

You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.

He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.

"You good?"

"So good," you grin. "Never better."

"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.

"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."

"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."

You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.

Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.

You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.

"Buck, I-"

"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."

"Need you to move, baby."

He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.

"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."

Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.

He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.

"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."

The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.

Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.

He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.

"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.

"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.

Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."

You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.

"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.

The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.

Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.

Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.

"I don't want you to go."

The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.

"I don't think I want to go."

He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.

"You have to, baby. It's your dream."

Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.

"You're my dream."

Bucky sniffles, and you continue.

"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."

You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.

"We'll be okay, my honey girl."

You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.

"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.

You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff   @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara   @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IX

—we belong to you and me

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). fluff. angst. cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: here it goes. happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 26, 2023

Los Angeles, California

The ceiling isn’t even interesting, but it’s better than everything else right now. You’ve spent too many nights staring at the same spot above you, trying not to think, trying not to feel, but the thoughts always come creeping back. Anxiety’s a funny thing—how it picks and chooses moments to make your life its playground, especially when there’s nothing left to distract you.

You think about your depression diagnosis from a year ago. It feels like a dirty word, one that sticks to the inside of your throat whenever you try to talk about it.

Shame has a way of making you feel unworthy, like there’s a crack inside you that everyone can see. And Pedro…well, he was part of that too. Not because he’d judge you; no, you know he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it worse. He’d understand, and you know it. But it was that very understanding, that softness, that made you feel even less deserving of him. It was easier to push him away, tell yourself that he was better off without you, without your darkness looming overhead.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. For a long time, you felt like shit. The medication and therapy helped, though. You feel better now, mostly. At least enough to move through the days without the weight of the world pressing down on your chest.

On nights like this, when the city outside your window hums with life, you find yourself longing for him. Wanting him with a kind of ache that doesn’t make sense anymore. Not after a year of silence.

Okay, not complete silence.

There were the text messages, the likes, the little online interactions that served as placeholders for the real thing. But the last time you actually heard his voice was on your birthday. He called, and it was brief. Polite. He sounded tired, maybe distant. You’d called him on his birthday, too, but he didn’t pick up. A few hours later, a text: “Sorry! Really busy over here, even on my birthday. Thanks for the birthday wishes. See you soon.”

Except “See you soon” never came. It was nothing more than etiquette.

Sarah came over a few weeks later. You were sitting on your couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when she dropped the news. “They broke up,” she’d said, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a bomb that just exploded in your chest. “Pedro and Julia. Months ago.”

Why didn’t he tell me?

That conversation replayed in your head for days. Maybe he hadn’t told you because you weren’t that person for him anymore. The one he turned to when things went wrong. Life just went on without him in it. The strange became familiar, and here you were, on a Saturday night, staring at nothing.

You push off the sofa, grab your phone from the coffee table, and start scrolling through social media. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off, numbing the ache for a little while. But even that was a trap because almost every post you see is about him.

Pedro was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him.

The world had caught on to how wonderful he was, and now they all wanted a piece of him. The headlines, the photos, the fan posts—everyone seemed to wonder what it would be like to love him, to touch him. The universe was taunting you with his presence, a constant reminder of what you’d had and what you’d lost. Every time you saw his face, you felt a pang of regret, sharp and unforgiving.

February 4, 2023

New York, NY

The invitation had come a week earlier, but not from him. His sister, Lux, had sent the text. “It would be nice if you came,” she’d written, and your heart had swelled in your chest.

“I’ll try,” you’d replied, though you knew as soon as you sent it that you would go. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to New York, staring out the window, wondering what you were doing. You hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, and you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you. What if time had passed you by? What if everything between you had faded into the background, nothing more than a memory?

The night of the show arrived, and you were a wreck. A bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. You sat in the audience, people asking for pictures here and there, and you smiled, happily obliging. But when Pedro took the stage, your heart stopped. He was nervous during the monologue, you could tell, but he quickly settled into the rhythm.

His breathing evened out, and he was so…perfect. He talked about his family, about his mother, and you felt the lump in your throat rise when he got emotional. He was always funny in the sketches, but especially when he almost broke character to laugh. You couldn’t stop watching him.

And you hoped—no, you prayed—that maybe he’d see you through the crowd.

When the show ended, people started to disperse, and there he was, surrounded by his family, by friends, all buzzing with pride and excitement. You hung back, watching as Lux tried to get everyone lined up for a photo. “Who’s gonna take it?” someone asked, and you stepped forward before you could think twice.

“I can do it,” you said, and Lux’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my god, you came!” She rushed over, wrapping her arms around you, and you hugged her back, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest.

Nico and Pedro’s nephews followed, pulling you into their hugs as well. For a moment, it felt like old times, like maybe things hadn’t changed at all. But then Pedro turned, his gaze catching yours, and time stopped.

You stood there, staring at each other, and the world spun and stilled all at once. His eyes lit up, soft and warm, like they always had. He looked like he wanted to say something, but neither of you moved.

Five seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever.

You smiled, and so did he, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you. Lux handed you her phone, and you took the picture, watching them all gather together, laughing and chatting. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you the whole time.

After the photo, he walked over, his eyes locking onto yours again.

“How…what are you…?”

“Your sister invited me,” you replied quickly.

“Of course she did,” he said, glancing back at Lux with a smile.

“Congratulations, you were incredible,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “I’m so happy for you.”

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were the moon and the stars. Your heart raced, and you could feel it thumping against your ribs. He smiled, a half-smile, and his voice softened. “Thank you. I think I butchered a couple of lines, but…"

“No, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You were perfect. It was perfect.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes doing that thing they always did when he was holding something back. But then he cleared his throat, looking flustered. “I have to go get changed and say goodbye to a few people, but come to the afterparty, okay? Oscar and Sarah will be there.”

As if you needed a reason other than him.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He took a step closer, his big brown eyes fixed on you. “Thank you for being here.”

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Always.”

And then he turned and disappeared backstage.

•••

Later, at the afterparty, you felt like a ghost, drifting between conversations. You caught up with Oscar and Sarah, the comfort of their hugs bringing unexpected tears to your eyes. It felt good, to be surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. But you couldn’t help yourself; you kept looking for Pedro. From across the room, your eyes would meet, and the significance of everything unsaid hung between you.

Twenty minutes passed like that. Stolen glances, quiet tension. Until you saw him slip outside to the rooftop, away from the crowd.

Without thinking, you followed him.

He stood there, looking out over the city, his broad back to you, the skyline of New York glowing in the distance. For a moment, you thought about turning around, about going back inside. But then you stepped forward, standing beside him.

“This city,” you started, “is so beautiful from up here. Makes you forget about all the bad things—like the rats and the traffic.”

He laughed—that booming, wheezing kind of laugh you loved so much—and you smiled.

Pedro smiled at you—that same familiar smile that hadn’t changed in all these years. His eyebrows lifted playfully, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as you looked closer, you saw it—he had changed, and yet the essence of him remained.

His hair was longer now, curling just at the ends in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it. His beard, fuller than before, had streaks of gray decorating his jawline and his hair. The lines around his eyes had deepened, like stories waiting to be told, crinkling when he smiled, as if life had both weathered and softened him.

He turned to look at you. “Hi again.”

“Hi."

“You look good,” he said, the compliment slipping from his lips with ease.

You chuckled softly. “Thanks, so do you, Mr. Popular.”

He clicked his tongue, amused. “What can I say?”

The rooftop was hushed, only the chatter and music from the party drifting up from where you stood. The world below a distant hum, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft glow of green and gold light from the city. The air was cool but not cold, wrapping around you both in a way that felt intimate, protective.

How Deep Is Your Love started playing, and you looked towards the party, a small smile playing on your lips. As if he could read your mind, he chuckled and said, "How fitting. What are the odds?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were under Pedro’s gaze—not the chaotic, feverish attention you were used to, with cameras flashing and crowds screaming your name, but something deeper. His attention had always been different. It was quiet, but focused, like a steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you without a word.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The pull between you too strong, a tether stretched thin by years of disconnect but never broken. You felt it—the weight of all that had gone unsaid pressing against your chest. You had to say it. Now, before you lost the courage.

“I was debating whether or not to do this here,” you began, your voice low but steady, “today of all days, but I feel like the right time will never come for us, so I’ll just say it.”

Pedro’s eyes searched yours with anticipation, perhaps fear or hope, watching you with that unwavering focus that made your heart race.

In that moment, you realized, you didn't know where to start.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I disappeared like that, and I know I hurt you. I was... I was dealing with so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t move. Some days were harder than others, and I felt so ashamed. So lost. So sad.”

The word sad hung between you, fragile yet heavy. You could see it in his face—how your words cut him deeply. His lips parted, and you saw the pain flicker in his eyes, the understanding that only he could offer.

“Baby,” he said, the word tender, rich with affection. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet calming all at once. His hand moved to your hair, fingers brushing it aside before resting gently on the side of your head. The touch was so familiar, so comforting, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

“No,” Pedro said softly, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not doing more. For not being there when you needed me. I’m a fucking coward.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. “I pushed you away because I thought… I thought you were happy with her.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through the pain. “And before that, I pushed you away because I thought you just didn't want me. I figured it was better to let you be.”

He let out a breath, stepping even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I got with her because I couldn’t escape you,” he confessed, the words raw and full of regret. “You were always there, in my head, in my heart. I thought if I could be with someone else, maybe… maybe I’d forget you, but I couldn’t.”

You felt the tears sting at the back of your eyes. The truth of it, the weight of his words, felt like a key turning in a lock that had long been rusted shut. You wanted to say more, to tell him everything, but before you could, Pedro’s hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“I was afraid that you'd be the only person I ever actually wanted. And now I'm afraid that my one and only chance at happiness has passed me by.” He whispered, his voice low and intense. “And I…I think about kissing you more than I think about anything else, literally in the world. It’s my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.”

You could barely breathe. The air between you felt charged, electrified by everything he was admitting, by the love you had both buried for so long. “I was so scared,” he continued, his eyes glistening. “So scared of fucking up our friendship, scared of what people might say, and scared of losing you because… I’ve never known what to do with pain, mi amor. All I’ve ever done is hide from it. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if your touch was too much, too overwhelming. Then, slowly, he opened them again, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity it made your heart ache. “I was such an idiot,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I could live without you, but the truth is, I’ve never been able to. Not for a single day.”

You smiled, your own tears finally spilling over. “Well, that makes two of us.”

"You're my favorite person to talk to," he said, "even when we're fighting."

There was a beat, a single breath in which the world seemed to pause, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, shy, or unsure—it was everything. Every moment, every longing look, every stolen glance over the years poured into this one, perfect moment. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew people could be watching from afar, but you melted into him, because nothing else mattered right now.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping for air like you'd been drowning and only just found the surface. His forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky, and in that moment, you saw it all—the vulnerability, the fear, the anger, and beneath it all, the raw, unrelenting love.

Pedro’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, “I hate myself for waiting this long.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, gripping them with a desperation that made your heart twist. “I watched you disappear, and I told myself it wasn’t my place. But it was. It always was.”

His eyes bore into yours, deep pools of brown that always saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. His hands turned and pushed you slowly to the railing, and you could feel the cold biting into your back even through the thick layers of your jacket.

“I hated myself too,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, messy and imperfect, but true. “I thought about you every day. And I hated myself for it because I couldn’t let go. I tried, God. I tried with everything I had to move on, but it was always you. It was always you, Pedro.”

His lips trembled, and you saw the tears in his eyes—the same tears that were stinging yours. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“We wasted so much time.”

You nodded, your own heart breaking at the realization. All the years you had spent avoiding each other, convincing yourselves it was for the best, when deep down, you knew the truth.

You had been running—both of you—from something that had always been there.

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “But we’re here now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “I love you,” he said, the words a soft confession.

You smiled, face wet with tears, your heart finally free of the burden it had carried for so long.

“I know."

a/n: aaaahh finally!!! these idiots got it right it only took like 20 years lol.

an extra final chapter is coming very soon. i had so much fun writing this. i started writing this silly little fic right after a breakup because i was feeling lonely and it was the best way for me to not feel like that sooo i wanted to thank everyone who read, liked, reblogged or commented, it means the world to me that someone else enjoys something that takes so much of my time. love you all so much!!!

[endless-weightless]

Ford Pines x GN!reader headcanons!

I'm surprised it took me this long to get into Gravity Falls. Anyways this has both SFW and NSFW so beware. There's also a brief mention of being AFAB as a possibility but other than that it's completely gender neutral (I'm 99% sure, I didn't proofread too well lol).

SFW

Right off the bat, I’m saying he’s autistic because so am I and I said so.

If you’re someone who needs reassurance or is generally anxious/paranoid about anything he’ll go into long (often scientific) explanations to ease your mind and also throw in some fun facts.

Both a listener and a yapper. He loves nothing more than the sound of your voice but also loves being able to spout all sorts of things about his research and interests while you stare at him lovingly.

Can’t sleep unless you’re next to him. You don’t even need to be cuddling, your presence is just the one thing he needs to fall asleep.

That being said, he will NEVER pass up an opportunity to cuddle. Watching a movie? Cuddling. Working at his desk in the lab? Cuddling on his lap. Cooking something in the kitchen? He’s got his arms wrapped around you as he presses loving kisses into your temple.

He rarely swears, but when he does it always makes you do a double-take (and maybe giggle because it sounds so odd coming from him).

Probably tried weed once or twice in the '70s and was somewhat part of the psychedelic rock scene. Stan has some old photos of him during that time somewhere but Ford is absolutely mortified by the idea of you seeing him in bell-bottom jeans.

It doesn’t matter how long you two have been together, every time he sees you he feels the same as he did the day you two met. Ford will never stop becoming flustered at the sight of you.

Post-Weirdmaggedon he became very anxious at the thought of you being out alone or not being near him. He feels like he needs to be on guard at all times so that he can protect you. He eventually calms down after some reassurance from you and a fuck ton of therapy.

While he lacks some emotional intelligence he’s actually very attentive and knows exactly what you need when you’re upfront about your feelings. As long as you’re not vague and communicate, he knows what to do to help you.

Adding onto that, I think he briefly studied psychology in college so he’d have a pretty good understanding of any mental health issues you might have.

Said “No more Mr Nice Guy” one time and hasn’t heard the end of it from anyone.

NSFW

Has to stop himself from cumming too quickly when you tell him how good he’s making you feel. Stroking his ego (and other things) is the best way to get him horny.

Will always ask you for consent no matter what it is. You could be mid-fuck and he’d still ask if he could put his hands on your hips.

This is just my personal headcanon but I believe while he didn’t really have too much experience before he got stuck on the other side of the portal (probably hooked up with Fiddleford once or twice tho), I fully believe that after a few years of dimension-hopping, he would’ve had a few one-night stands (mans gotta blow off some steam). So when he gets the chance to fuck you, a real human from his dimension, he’s more than ecstatic, especially since he’s picked up more than a few tricks over the past thirty years.

Knows how to use all twelve of his fingers.

Since Ford was sucked into the portal in the early ’80s and spent thirty years in there, he’s super confused when you mention shaving down there or being embarrassed about your body hair (if you do either) since the last time he was around everyone preferred going all natural.

This one’s less sexy but I’m putting it here anyways. He avoided taking off his shirt for ages since he didn’t want you to see all the scars he’d gotten over the years or any of the tattoos related to the things he did in the portal, especially the ones related to Bill. Surprisingly not as insecure about his “Flirty Gal” tramp stamp.

Doesn’t understand that he’s ridiculously hot. 

You jokingly said “Yes sir” one time and he got hard so quickly.

Although he does rather enjoy you taking the lead.

Loves experimenting with cock warming and edging. Literally. He’ll time the both of you and have everything written down somewhere and draw a graph with extra info like if you’re someone with a menstrual cycle and how that affects the results.

[sakuraryomen01]

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

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

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

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

words: 5.036k

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

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

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

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

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

..That kiss too..

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

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

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

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

When did you get so chummy?

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

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

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

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

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

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

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

It was Sukuna.

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

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It does matter, now get up.”

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

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

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

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

Despite this, you found it cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”

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

Yep, never happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who was that guy?”

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

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

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

Wait.. why was he upset?

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

“I barely know him anyways..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

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

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you did, with much regret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 12.5 (Jisung & Minho)

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Jisung has always been overlooked. Minho has been invisible in his own ways. The two have become inexplicably linked; how did Jisung and Minho come to join SKZ?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Jisung 

When I was in third grade, I could not pay attention for shit. 

It annoyed the Hell out of my teachers—I would lean back in my chair, I would distract my classmates by talking to them, and I would even intentionally mess up my assignments as a way to cull the boredom. In reality, I was lost in my own head. My own thoughts were my downfall, even though I was just a child. Full of thoughts, worrying about what my classmates thought of me, whether or not my parents would yell at me, and even coming up with long, convoluted scenarios about all the worst ‘what-ifs.” 

When I was in the third grade, I started missing assignments. I would lose them in my backpack that was always a mess; I couldn’t keep track of my assignments like I couldn’t keep track of those thoughts. One day, my mother got called into the principal's office to talk about my behavior. They suggested signing me up for counseling, that my behavior could have been due to an underlying and untreated disorder. 

That night when we got home, my mother beat me. She scolded me for bringing unwanted attention to our family, for causing a scene and making up issues that didn’t exist. I didn’t need counseling, she told me, I was just stupid. Stupid, idiotic, good-for-nothing child that can’t even pay attention in class. 

The thoughts got worse after that. 

When I was in the fifth grade, I started meeting up with the school counselor in secret. I told her about my mom’s adversity toward me going to therapy, though I left out the details—that sometimes, she would beat me or call me names, that some nights she took pills when she thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t know a lot at that age, but I knew those were things I was not allowed to share. 

The counselor told me I likely had some academic confidence issues. No shit. But one day, she called up my mother and told her all of her suspicions about me: That I likely had ADHD, ODD, and generalized anxiety. It would explain my lack of attention, my blatant disrespect toward the teachers, and the thoughts. I didn’t want her to tell my mom. Didn’t think she would, because of confidentiality and shit. But my mother was surprisingly receptive to the idea, especially when she found out that I would be starting medication that could fix me. 

That was the first time I felt hope. Hope that I could be better, that maybe she would see me as more than just her stupid son that had no life ahead of him. 

I never started treatment for my problems. It fell through, more or less, though I found out years later it was because my mom started taking the medication prescribed for me. In seventh grade, after a particularly hard night that my mom had beaten me, I left the house. I was only gone for a few hours, hanging out with people that were certainly no good for me way past my curfew. It was only a few hours, but when I returned home my mother was dead. In her hand was a bottle of adderall prescribed to Han Jisung. Me. 

Grief is a funny thing. No, maybe funny isn’t the right word. Because when you’ve never known grief, it runs you over like a stampede, suffocating you until it’s all you know. In the seventh grade, grief was all I knew. Unsettled were all of the questions I had for her; Do you really think I’m stupid? Do I have any sort of potential, or am I just a waste of space? Am I worth anything? But now that she was dead and I was unable to ask her, it was like all of those statements just became the truth. If she was unable to refute them, then they would simply become a fact of life. 

I dropped out of highschool after my first semester. I ran away from the shitty foster home they had placed me in, though ‘placed’ is sort of a kind word. When you’re a teen in the system, you don’t really tend to stay in one home. You bounce around, one after another, reminded that you’re nothing, nobody, and that you will never be wanted. You’ll never stay in one school district, never get to keep in contact with your friends, and never get to keep any of your possessions that you hold dear. So, the first night in foster home number ten, I ran away. 

When I was fourteen years old, I joined a gang. 

They were entertained by me. One thing I found out was that they were amused by how reckless I was. That I would do just about anything they asked. Because when you have nothing to lose you can raise the stakes—and if you make people laugh in return, even better. I lived off of their praise, which was maybe why I was more willing to do things that were… well, stupid, so to speak. 

I’m not sure what my life would have looked like if I hadn’t met Lee Minho, my partner in crime. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Minho 

Invisibility. I always knew what that was like. 

I didn’t exactly realize that I grew up in a gang, at first. I knew that I wasn’t like my peers, that I should stay quiet and stay to myself, to not draw too much attention. There were just certain qualities of my life that were different–my parents would never come to parent-teacher conferences, I would never have a sleepover or birthday parties with my classmates, and I should never talk about what happened in my home. 

These were just things that were always a part of my life. I never really made any friends, but I was good at school. Most people never even knew my name, but that was just how I liked it. Once I got to a certain age I really started realizing what was going on in my house–the robbing, the selling of drugs, the violent crimes, but I turned a blind eye. Always doing homework in the background of my house where these things were taking place, I got very good at listening. So even if I wasn’t involved, I always knew what was going on. And for some reason, my mother and my father, who knew that I was too unnaturally intelligent to be their child, never forced me to participate in anything. I’m not sure they ever knew that I knew more than I was supposed to.

One day when I came home I could tell that something wasn’t quite right. As soon as I walked through the door I was met with silence, not the usual commotion that I would try to avoid. As I walked through the house I found the gun that I knew was hidden in between the couch cushions, turning off the safety. Though I was only a junior in high school I knew there was a silent, unspoken responsibility to be upheld, to protect the same way I had been protected. I held the gun close to my chest, listening closely as I stood against the wall of the kitchen listening to a near-silent conversation. 

“We don’t have your money,” my father confessed. A pair of footsteps walked around the room impatiently, a breath hitching as someone cocked their gun. “We never even gave them the cocaine, it was a bad deal!”

The person scoffed, clearly unamused. “You’re really going to lie to my face? The issue here is that you ratted us out to the police after selling Mark the coke.”

I heard what sounded like my mother’s voice beginning to protest, and though I didn’t know nearly enough of the situation I rounded the corner and pulled the trigger twice. Two bodies I’ve never seen before fell dead on the kitchen floor, limp with their own guns in hand. My parents were relieved, though I had never really cared how they felt towards me one way or another, I turned and put the gun back where it belonged. I let them deal with the mess of the dead bodies and the cleanup. It was the first time I ever allowed myself to intervene, and while I wasn’t exactly sure why I did it it wasn’t the last. 

I was glad I was able to take advantage of my invisibility, of the people who had never heard my name, who never knew my parents even had a child let alone that he knew how to shoot a gun. That he knew the intricacies of the gang business at the age of sixteen years old. 

When I was a senior in high school I graduated near top of my class. I had a perfect GPA, missing the extracurricular activities that my peers had to help them succeed on their applications, but I exceeded in every subject I ever tried in. I even got accepted to a great school in statistics and business with a full ride, but I never told my parents. I thought I was going to enroll, but then somebody new joined the gang. 

We hadn’t had someone new join the gang in over two years, since I killed the two opposing members. Of course, this spiked my curiosity, but I heard that this new guy was more popular with the younger members. Han Jisung was his name, and he wasn’t quite like anybody else I had ever met before. 

Some of our younger members were surprised that I had any investment in their sakes, but I was genuinely curious about this guy. Fourteen years old, dropped out of school, willing to do just about anything that anybody had ever asked of him. He seemed to be in it for shits and giggles, thriving off of the attention he got whenever he did something particularly spontaneous. Stealing from an old woman, selling drugs to a police officer’s girlfriend, he seemed to do just about anything if he could get a laugh out of it. It seemed like bad news–for everyone. If he did something particularly stupid, he would get us all fucked. 

He was assigned to his first real mission–robbing a bank, and for some reason, I decided to tag along too. I’m not sure if it was because I was concerned about the future of the gang–that wasn’t necessarily something I had ever worried about before, but something told me that leaving this guy all by himself was bad news. My parents had been slacking on their leadership of our gang for years, so it was just about time before it fell apart for good. 

Han Jisung didn’t quite seem to like me. Maybe that was unfair to say, because it was just that he didn’t really seem to talk to me at all at first. I think I had a tendency to over-explain things, to be protective and tell him to stand up for himself. He was no longer in high school, he told me, and so I taught him all of the things he needed to know along the way of our mission. I skipped the first day of my college orientation.

What I wasn’t expecting was for things to work out as perfectly as they did. Jisung was an amazing listener. He rarely needed to be explained to twice, and for some reason his brain had a perfect understanding and explanation of blueprints. Once being taught a weapon he was a certified master of it, and though I had shot a gun and had killed people before I was more confident in his abilities, his way around a dagger or a pistol.

Han Jisung was quite literally made to work with me, I concluded, as our heist went off without a hitch. What had started off as a mission that was a joke in order to get Jisung incriminated was more than a success, as we accumulated thousands of dollars without the authorities ever knowing it was us. And though the younger boy was apprehensive towards me at first and I had spent years telling myself I would never get involved in my parent’s business, it was obvious that we were… well, partners in crime, so to speak. 

I found out more about Han Jisung. His mother was just recently deceased and he was very clearly being taken advantage of by the other members of the gang. He was willing to do anything for the attention, when all he needed was someone to believe in him. 

Jisung was my very first friend. I wasn’t willing to call it that at first, but that’s what it was. I was willing to finally tell someone what it was like to grow up in a gang, to work hard to be the top of your class but get no recognition for it. I thought that maybe I would go to college just to be far away from here, just so I could be somebody else, but I was never even sure if that’s what I wanted. 

Jisung told me that he has always been seen as less than, as stupid. No matter how hard he worked, nobody would ever see him for his efforts. He would always, always be dismissed.

I didn’t want to be invisible. He didn’t want to be dumb. It seemed like for the first time, we each saw each other as more than what we had always been. And we worked exceptionally well together, even if neither of us necessarily wanted to be involved in crime. 

I started to think that maybe I could end up like my parents. Maybe I could see a future in this gang, that I could be someone to professionally carry out crimes and get away with it like nobody else ever had before. That maybe there was a future for me and Jisung to be out there, on top and well-known. Though, I unfortunately caught my parent’s negative attention, and with Jisung still known as ‘the boy that would do just about anything,’ it didn’t come of any good. 

We were told we needed to infiltrate another gang. The opposing gang whose leaders I had killed two years ago were still out for vengeance and it was nothing more than a death wish. Even we could realize that, but there was no getting out of this. 

Jisung and I were walking the streets, looking for new weapons and discussing infiltration plans when we were approached by an unfamiliar stranger. 

“Are you the two that carried out the infamous robbery on main street two months ago?” 

Jisung and I had both frozen, reaching for our guns in our pockets as we eyed the mystery man. He had a large nose and wide lips, dark eyes with longer black hair to match his dark ensemble. He gestured us toward an alleyway, and with knowing side-glances, Jisung and I cautiously joined the man for some privacy. Bang Chan, he had introduced himself, one of the most well-known mafia leaders in this area. That was not something to be taken lightly. 

“That infiltration was not something to be executed by beginners,” he laughed, whistling as if to show us just how impressed he was. “You would need to be someone seriously smart, to really know what you’re doing.”

“And your point is?” I had asked, crossing my arms and looking at him with trepidation. I ignored the way that Jisung’s eyes had lit up upon being called smart, the way that Chan had taken notice of this and used this to his advantage. 

“The point is, I want–no, need people on my team that are as smart, as capable as you two. The Lee family has been a part of this city for years, very well-known. But you, Minho, you don’t like to make yourself known, do you? You would prefer to keep yourself in the shadows, to focus on your studies. And you, Jisung, you just need somewhere to belong, don’t you? Aren’t you tired of not fitting in?”

Okay, so this guy seriously knew what he was talking about, how to use his words to take advantage of a situation. It was as if he saw the way that Jisung reacted and easily maneuvered his plan to work in his favor.  I tried to look away from the way that Jisung tensed up, visibly excited when Chan spoke. I even had to calm my own nerves. I was sure there was nothing he could offer us, nothing that could persuade me, but I was wrong. Bang Chan already had his victory written in stone. 

“Come, work for me instead. I’m sure your talents could be properly used. They’re being exploited right now, aren’t they? Don’t you want to get away? Minho, don’t you want to forget the Lee family, let your intelligence be acknowledged for what it is? I promise that we won’t throw you into any known danger for our own amusement at SKZ. You can’t tell me it’s not tempting, no?” 

And no, I couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting. Though I had no more chance of escaping through means of a college degree, I could still get away through other means. I could be useful in ways other than people throwing me head-first into a suicide mission. It seemed more sustainable for me and Jisung both, and I could tell I wasn’t the only one considering it. 

We had two days before we were expected to take down the opposing gang. 

“The only catch is you need to come with me right now and never look back.” 

One glance at Jisung and I could tell that our decision was already made. My partner in crime, now at a different location to work with me within reasonable means. It was strange, wasn’t it? To want to keep my first and only friend, to be willing to continue the life of crime in a way that was more organized and deliberate? 

But on top of that, even moreso I felt this innate desire to protect Jisung, my only friend. I couldn’t let him go by himself either for fear that he would be easily exploited by this powerful man. 

And even though I had become well-known as the ‘master of infiltration’ I wasn’t sure how much longer I wanted to be invisible for, not when I found the one person who had made me feel seen. I could either send us both into a death trap and Jisung would never be recognized for his talent, risk the only thing I’ve ever cared about dying before my eyes, or I could take Chan up on his offer. 

“We’re in.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

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[cutielights]

Hey pookie!! I luv ur work sm and I was wondering if u could do a rottmnt boys x spider woman reader ab them reacting to her stopping a collider like miles did? Idek if u watched into the spider verse but maybe something like that if not u could wing it if you'd like tysm hope u have a good day/night! ❤️

>>:] yes. For the purposes of writing, im going to act as if you were a spider person for at least a year before this. Not supposed to be Miles’ story, but pretty similar (if that makes sense)

i waNT THE THIRD MOVIE. Frikin dying of miles morales deprivation over here, hand over the sunflower boy with in tact parents

@moonchhu THE OTHER SPIDER PERSON ONE TAG LIST

That Really Big Earthquake

LEO

“Heyyyy, I haven’t seen you in twenty four hours which truly is a record for us, I missed you, did you miss me? I bet you did right? Go on tell me aaaalllll about it.”

“So, I was just kinda minding my own business, y’know, thwipping and thwapping and going about being an awesome hero when I bumped into myself? Kinda. They looked like me, but they were different, and didn’t look like me, but, I knew they were me! Because my spider sense went off and they could do stuff I could do, but also some different stuff! And then we freaked out for a little bit before I went to auntie May to show her and she showed me four more other me’s who were hiding out in her basement and then we tried getting them home and we had to sneak about in this fancy restaurant wearing bow ties, and we cried and they went into this collider thing, also it turns out my favourite cousin was working for the evil genius corporation and he’s dead now and it feels like my fault, I’m so totally fine don’t worry about me. Howwasyourday?”

“Haha, what.”

“Stopped the collapsing of the multiverse.”

“Oh it sounds so simple when you put it like that.” Yeah okay sarcasm queen

Made you some tea after that, let’s just, take a breath for a minute, m’kay?

He has decided it’s a self care day now, at least he did after thoroughly checking you for injuries

How you do not have a concussion will always escape him, not one broken bone? Seriously? After all that?

Please remind him you’re an actual super hero and not a pane of glass

“Wait what was that about your cousin?”

RAPH

“Hey! How was your weekend?”

“Crazier than yours.”

“Okay, Bet.”

One explanation later sponge bob narrator voice

“Wait, so you’re telling Raph, that huge earthquake that happened, happened because of you and five alternate versions of yourself?

“That’s excluding a lot of things I just told you but, I am telling Raph that, yes.”

Huge bone crushing hugs are in order, according to him at least. And I mean, is he wrong?

Not letting you out of his sight for ages, please, Raph, let them go home

“Why are you so worried? I did it, I won!”

“It’s more the fact that it happened and less the fact that you’re mostly fine.”

DONNIE

Othello Von Ryan: Stay home, S.H.E.L.LD.O.N has picked up on some strange (possibly universal fabric destroying) activity. Also there has been some earthquake activity in the area you were in yesterday, not that I have a tracker on you. Because I don’t.

Only Two Legs: I handled it don’t worry :D

Othello Von Ryan: ?

Othello Von Ryan: Traverse to My Lab.

“Heyyy Deee.”

“Stop. Explain. This better be your attempt at humor.”

There was silence for a long while after you had messily glued together words to describe the past 24 hours, before he took a deep breath.

“First, How dare you stop the multiverse from collapsing without me that’s incredible rude. Second, therapy. Third, that earthquake and power surge destroyed My Lab, thankfully I have backup backups to my backups, but I couldn’t use the internet for an hour straight.”

“Y- You’re more concerned about the internet?”

“Not what I said. Now let me check you for a concussion.”

MIKEY

“Hey they took down those art displays.”

“The what?”

“Oh you weren’t here, BUT there was these reaaaallllyyyyy cool art statues along this street! Look, hey, look, I took pics!”

“Oh cooollluuuhhh that’s not an art display that’s five different fire hydrants merged into each other.”

“Haha yeah it does kinda look like that doesn’t it? I thought it was supposed to be a dog.”

“Mikey, no-“ You pulled him aside into an empty alleyway, trying to explain what had happened over the past twenty four hours.

It was an interesting experience, but you got there eventually.

Best believe this boy is giving you the biggest hug ever, and then buying pizza.

Oh, and Dr Feelings is going to be paying you a visit. Multiple. You can’t escape him.

“So they weren’t art displays?”

Speedily bulk writing and scheduling rn bc im going on a holiday with zero internet.

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 alternative options for the Five *event*

Spoilers below, not meant to be taken seriously FYI

Now, I like my Five as AroAce as I am (extremely). But given that TV shows and society has this bullshit propaganda that 'romantic love simply Must occur for a complete being!!' Here's some alternatives that they could have gone for that might have been just as bad but I'd have hated less. (BTW no hate if you write romantic Five Fanfic, not for me but you do you, just wanted this one character to be safe from canon romance)

Bring The Handler back: That would be one fucked up relationship, don't get me wrong, but given they wrote a destined-to-be-fucked romance, have Five struggling to adapt and being coerced into a relationship by her and then realising it's shady and he DOESN'T need this sort of connection because his FAMILY is enough for him and have him kill her.

Make him and his colleague have a thing. True, potentially also problematic as mentally depending on your POV he's 60 or 13 or some mingle-mangled nightmare of the two. In the favour of this pairing I have only that I liked (was it Derek??'s) character design, they've clearly got some similar interests as they work together, they will have therefore spent some quality time together in a Safe space where they could have made a reasonable connection.

Dolores is real in this timeline, or Five somehow birthed her into being. (honestly I thought his colleague was going to turn out to be Dolores and of all the possibilities I would have accepted that the most) For this to work I think Dolores would have needed to be one of the 43 all along and maybe someone who can transplant their consciousness who did similar to Five and got stuck like that, went comatose and mad with it (therefore staying around 13) until Five found her. There, with that, you can fudge around the problematic age thing, they grew up side by side. Thus she and Five really did have a connection, really could talk, and now he gets to live into his old age with someone both mentally and physically the same age as him.

Give him a therapy dog in Pennycrumb that's better than a romance surely who doesn't love a pet?

Kenny's Mom. Idk it would have been whacked AF but I would have laughed my head off and know Five had just lost the plot completely.

He falls in love with another version of himself he meets on the subway. Hell, why not make this a Five that changed gender in the apocalypse and met a mannequin named Donnie, that way we also get more queer representation. Yes, this would also, in fact, be weird AF. But legit hilarious and someone who can match his experience and intelligence. And age.

Let him just have one night stands, that's midway happy right for TV? Just don't make me watch any intimate scenes. You have a Whole other cast, use them. Hell, be brave, do a Klaus / Dave Ghost sexscapade instead.

He has re-found mannequin Dolores. Man has never dealt with his issues that we know of - the show never tells us he does. I thought when they first turned up in the apocalypse from the trains and the sunlight was shining on Dolores that Five was going to steal her. But he could also have just found her again because he couldn't cope.

I think that's exhausted all my awful joke options (though honestly the Dolores two aren't even that bad) would love to hear which your favourite out of these awful options is.

Please reblog for votes, I'm having way too much fun here.

[tyxoxo]

perv!jeno

fourth time trying to get this to show in the tags, i’m so sorry ㅠㅠ

warnings: dubious consent

milf!lover jeno who is such a perverted piece of shit, appears innocent on the outside as he attends his favorite class, just to see his favorite professor in question, you. but on the inside, he’s thought of the dirtiest fantasies, with no ounce of shame that you were twice his age. who could blame his desires, when you looked so fuckable in your professional attire. 

the only reason he hasn’t failed physics is because of his attendance record. without your presence, he would surely have been sent to the Dean’s office for his negligence. 

his chosen seat in the lecture room, elevated in the back, gave him just the right amount of obscurity to palm himself through his denim jeans as he watched you pace back and forth along the ground floor. 

he actually felt sorry for you.

you seemed disheartened by the lack of enthusiasm in your students, their ambition thwarted from the harsh realities of university—student loans, terrible diet, and all the other vices that came with being a young adult.

jeno knew just the thing you needed. someone like him to destress your mind and body. someone like him that would ravage you beyond repair, so you no longer cared about the miniscule details. 

fucked so hard that all you cared about was him, and his raging cock.  

every day he prayed to whatever god just as vile as him, that the slit in your pencil skirt would grow a little taller. maybe even a hole would appear in your sheer pantyhose; he always loved the look of that. 

if you were inquisitive enough to look past his nerdic qualities, you would never go back to men your age. jeno knew he was the entire package.

but jerking off in his dorm room just wasn’t fulfilling his needs anymore. and his roommate got tired of the constant, wet sounds of him beating his dick into oblivion every night out of the week. so much so that just last week the dorm RA held a “wellness meeting” per request of his roommate.

jeno shook his head free of that poor excuse of a therapy session in regards to his masturbation addiction. today was the day that he would approach you after the lecture.

with a hefty sigh, you said your usual,

“don’t forget the discussion post due tonight by 11pm! everyone have a good weekend!”

you knew your reminder wouldn’t hold much weight. there were only a few that would actually participate. but there was only so much you could do.

and it was a well known fact that physics was among the most-hated subjects here.

luckily, this was the last class of the day. and the weekend was just around the corner. you were excited to try out a new cookware set that your daughter brought you for Mother’s Day, even inviting her and her fiancé over for dinner tomorrow as a show of thanks.

as you packed up your laptop, and planner into your leather tote bag, you were surprised to find that the lecture room wasn’t empty yet. 

the last one, Jeno Lee, had just reached the final step along the walkway. 

you paused on your gathering of items, deciding to give your undivided attention in case he had a question or concern.

the only concern you had, was the hard-on poking past his light blue denim jeans. 

it was painfully obvious, and quite intimidating considering his slim stature. 

“is everything okay Mr. Lee?” 

you tried your hardest to keep your eyes focused on his face, even deciding to zero in on his browline glasses to distract you from his groin.

“yeah everything’s fine.”

he stood in front of you like nothing was amiss, casually hooking the single backpack strap on his left shoulder, his other hand resting in his right pocket. 

“if that’s the case, i’ll go ahead and have my leave now. have a good weekend.” 

you failed at making it less obvious that you were dying to get out of the lecture hall. it wasn’t out of distaste, far from it.

rather, you felt disgusting for liking what you saw. everything down to the simple plain white tee, loose-fitting jeans, and light blue Jordans made you rub your thighs together as you stood there. even the veins that tensed along his forearm as he clutched his backpack strap was enough to make your breath hitch deep inside your chest.

fortunate enough for you, your phone buzzed with a notification from your daughter as you made your way to the exit. 

bringing the phone up to get a clearer view of the message proved futile, as you felt his warm hand snatch your wrist, causing your phone to flail out onto the linoleum floor. 

he waited until your back was turned, like the coward he truly was, to go in for the kill. your entire body swung back to face him, with a single yelp escaping your lips as you tried to fight against the whirlwind that was your student.

you winced as he escorted you back to your desk, back arching from the sharp strike to your spine. chest pressed firmly against his own as he let his backpack slip off his shoulders and onto the floor. the third button to your white dress shirt had popped open upon impact, revealing a lacy black bra that was waiting to be ripped apart, much to his liking. 

you were overly sensitive to the stimuli he forced upon you; wrist beginning to sting from his harsh hold, waist feeling singed down to the bone as he gripped you there with his other hand.  

upon opening your eyes, you were met with a being that surely dreamed of this moment. to watch as you felt his dick prod at the middle of your skirt, licking his upper lip in concentration as grinded upwards into your clothed heat.

his blissful expression soon turned to disappointment as your pencil skirt provided too much of a barrier between his swollen cock. 

he would have to take care of that soon.

despite letting up on your waist, all of your thoughts of an escape were in vain as you heard the familiar unclasp of a belt buckle, yet somehow you couldn’t forge a call for help, not when his lips were millimeters away from your own. 

your eyes trailed from his blown pupils to his mouth as he spoke, nowhere near prepared for the filth that fell from his lips. 

“i hope you don’t mind that i give you another one, since you’re already a mom…” 

[starberry-cupcake]

Hello, I haven't had time to read as much as I would want but I'm here with an update regardless, because if I don't keep these constant, I'm gonna forget things and this, so far, seems like a book in which I don't wanna forget things.

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

currently, after "parodos" and ch. 1:

so I'm making up a timeline in my head with the information at hand

which is never straightforward

that'd be too easy, here in tlt we like to be kept on our toes

we like to be punched in the gut when we least expect it

so get ready for bad math

this would probably make our good friend palmolive atreides weep

I'm sorry palomilve's force ghost, I'm doing my best

SO

the first entry was the night of the emperor being terminated

the "parodos" bit (we'll get to that) is 14 months before the emperor is snuffed out

ch. 1 is nine months before the emperor kicks the bucket

I believe act 1 is going to be happening around that time, since ch. 2 seems to be following without another indication

because of what happens in "parodos" aka flashback, aka prologue 2: elecric bogaloo, we can attempt to estimate when the events of gideon happened

harrowbean tells ortus in the flashback that he's gonna train with aiglamene for 12 weeks

let's assume that's kind of the amount of time gideon trained, plus the time it took harrow to plot how to girlsplain, gatekeep and gaslight gideon into it

the only one girlbossing here is camilla, I don't make the rules

so, if gideon and harrow were ready to leave the ninth somewhere around 2-3 months after the flashback, it'd be circa 11 months before the events in the prologue

and ch. 1 starts 9 months before the events in the prologue

so gideon might have happened somewhere around 11-10 months before the prologue

I can't tell how long they were in canaan house (it felt like 12 years and 5 minutes at the same time) but I think about a month is mostly right, given that once bodies start dropping, things are all happening together

all of this is relative, since time in space is ????

but I need to do this for my own peace of mind

if you give me time measurements I'm gonna measure, ok?

I need to organize things

I know I will end up making a graphic at some point I just know it

this is what I get for calling palmolive a turbonerd

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

or, moving back, since we're in prologue 2: electric bogaloo aka flashback time

here we have ortus (the one we knew, not the one we will get to know, according to the characters list) telling harrow he doesn't wanna go to the field trip

this is ortus

if you're wondering why I don't nickname ortus, I'll repeat myself but "orto" means "ass" where I'm from, so that's enough to remember him by

harrow is like "I know you're underqualified but we're understaffed, so it is what it is"

the important part is that harrowbean says she sees the barbie in the freezer walking about

like a ghost or whatnot

she refers to her as "the body" and I assume that's barbie in the ice cube because someone reblogged my recap where I mentioned her and tagged

ever since then I've been wondering why she was referred to as The Body and now I'm gonna assume this is it

so harrow tells ortus he needs to hide the fact that she's mentally unstable

[non funny side note: masking is unbearable and it's awful we live in a social and cultural environment where we feel pressured to do it, especially when you're an adult having to fulfill expectations of supposedly "age-specific" activities and responsibilities, it's exhausting and I cried about that in therapy a mere week ago so, hitting hard, this bit

don't let people make you feel "less than" because the way in which you navigate the world and your experiences is different from what's expected in some theoretical socially constructed category

and fuck everyone who, in order to put people down in arguments online, ever make fun of those who aren't mentally, economically or socially as independent as what the category of an adult is supposed to be to them

argue with concepts, argue with opinions and facts, don't tear people down in the name of "moral upper hand" by telling people they're losers for needing help

side note done]

so, harrow entered the whole canaan thing not only carrying the weight of her house, her family and her entire people

she also came into it believing she's not mentally sound and seeing The Body walking around unnoticed by other people

whether or not her visions are mentally unsettled or something that actually happens because she opened the tomb, just the whole situation of her birth is enough to make anyone collapse, so we got you, harrowbean

we're here for you

and all that without mentioning what it'd be like seeing your girlfriend cavalier impale herself in front of you

I'm taking liberties with the 'girlfriend' bit but idk

so, next we know, 5 months have passed from that and harrowcita is struggling in her new environment of the clown emperor's ship

she is made to carry gideon's sword and she can't

she can't seem to know what to do or to communicate with said knowledge and she's throwing up a lot

WHICH IS GREAT!!!!!

I mean, it's not great that she's suffering

but it's GREAT because if she can't communicate with gideon's slurped soul, maybe it means gideon's soul has not been slurped AT ALL

more fuel for my wishful thinking of gideon's soul returning to her and getting regenerated and saved and being alive

I also like very much this situation in which harrow sees the sword as personified and they hate each other without gideon

it's like prim's cat in the hunger games with katniss

but with an inanimate object

I'm really liking that dynamic

is like they both miss her and can't relate to each other

ALSO barbie body ice cube is still there

just chillin' and being silently supportive, I think

not sure what her deal is but what if she's not the bad one here? because this emperor kind of sucks tbh

not in a 'he's evil' way but in a 'idk if he know what he's doing' way

I don't know about this guy tbh

so we're leaving off with harrow being mentally and physically struggling, ghost barbie roamin' the rooms, voices of people organizing stock and gideon in my head like this, walking in limbo to get back to us

also, another day without camilla

I thought I wasn't gonna have much to say and this is so long, I'm so sorry...

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Imagine Being Loved By Me

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Self deprecation, alcohol, mild angst, semi public smut, oral sex (m receiving) Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: Loose lips sink ships - a drunken night at the pub proves catastrophic for the secret fling she's been having with her best mate's brother. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She lays cocooned on the sofa, enveloped in the soft warmth of fluffy throw blankets. The sounds of an episode of Eastenders playing on the TV fill the small space of her living room, yet her attention is focused solely on her phone, cradled in her palm as her thumb hovers over the screen.

“Come to the pub, not seen you for ages.” Reads the text message from her best mate, Lana.

It’s true, she has seen less of Lana over the last couple of months, the sole cause of that is due to Lana’s younger brother, Billy. She had never meant for it to happen. 

After Billy had been pulled from his car in Cranstead Gardens, only for it to blow up mere moments later - a bomb planted by a right wing group called The Crusaders, attempting to frame Billy for an attack on anti-fascist protestors, Billy had been in a bad way. Already plagued by struggles of self worth and identity, he was now traumatised on top of it.

Supporting Billy through all of it had taken a toll on Lana. She’d taken time off work to care for her younger brother, making sure he went to his therapy sessions, sitting up with him when his night terrors got too much for him to bear, making sure he ate and took care of himself.

She’d seen how tired Lana was becoming, the dark circles under her eyes growing more prominent every time she saw her. Spending so much time looking after Billy, she was forgetting to look after herself. Stepping in, she’d lended her own support, wanting to ease the burden on her best friend.

Countless cups of tea were made by her, she’d cooked massive pasta bakes and pots of chilli, ensuring that both Lana and Billy had dinner every day. In her bid to support her friend, she’d unwittingly become part of her brother’s life too.

It was an afternoon a week after Lana had gone back to work, she’d continued to pop round to Billy’s each day as a favour to her, just to check in on him and make sure he wasn’t letting the flat get in too much of a state.

They had been standing side by side in the kitchen, her rolling a cigarette for both of them, while Billy made tea. Their fingers had brushed as he’d passed her mug with one hand, while taking his rollie from her with the other, and for the briefest of moments their eyes had locked.

She felt as though time had stood still as she stared into his big blue eyes, and suddenly tea and cigarettes were forgotten as their lips met in a frenzied rush of passion. He’d pushed her back against the kitchen side and she’d giggled against his lips as they’d sent empty beer cans and dirty cutlery clattering to the floor.

In response, he’d lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he’d carried her to the bedroom. His breath had been heavy against her neck as he’d rutted hard into her against the rumpled bed sheets, while she’d stroked her fingers through his tousled sandy hair and whispered to him how good he was making her feel.

They’d laid there breathlessly afterwards and he’d made her swear not to tell Lana. It had made sense to her at the time, she’d thought it was a one off, and Lana would probably find it weird that her best friend and her younger brother had slept together.

But then it kept happening, and as time went on it felt more like a relationship than casual hooking up. Yet Billy continued to insist they kept it quiet, so she had, despite it seeming odd to her that they’d make a secret of something that clearly both made them happy.

And Billy did make her happy - most of the time. When things were good, they were really good; they’d spoon on his threadbare sofa, his laughter ruffling her hair as they watched reruns of The Simpsons. His large hand would always find its way up her top, wrapping around the dip in her waist, anchoring her to him.

When things were bad, they were awful. It would often happen after Billy’s weekly visits to the JobCentre to sign on, he’d come back petulant, closed off, in a place that was so far into his own mind that she couldn’t reach him. He’d lash out with angry words, filled with spite and vitriol if she tried to push him to open up, so she’d learned to retreat, to let him come to her.

Usually a day later, he’d reach back out and apologise, and things would be good again. Yet this time, a week had passed since she’d left Billy to his own devices and he hadn’t spoken to her at all.

She clicks away from Lana’s text, and onto her thread with her younger brother, faced with a stream of her own unanswered messages. 

Fuck him.

If he doesn’t want to talk to her then perhaps her Friday night is better spent at the pub. She fires off a quick message to Lana, telling her she’ll be there in an hour before showering and getting herself ready.

The pavement is slick underfoot as she walks from her flat. It’s rained recently, and the smell of it hangs thick in the air, along with a brisk chill that causes her to pull her leather jacket tighter around herself, wishing she’d put on something warmer.

She pushes through the heavy barrier of the pub door, leaving behind the cold air, the smell of rain and the steady hum of traffic, for stifling warmth, the cloying scent of beer and raucous laughter.

Smiling when she spots Lana at a table in the corner, flanked by her mate and fellow EXPO, John, she heads over, taking a seat next to Lana and shrugs out of her jacket.

“Alright, stranger?” Lana looks warmly at her, eyes filled with familiar affection, “Mick’s just getting a round in.”

Her smile falters, stomach churning with disgust at the mention of Mick. He’s ex-military, a mutual friend of Joel and Lana. Since Joel had passed away in the Westhaven Estate bombing, he had latched onto Lana, and it made her skin crawl. She hated his arrogance and the way he always leered at her, he took cheap shots at Billy’s expense whenever he was around, despite repeatedly being told to stop.

“Great,” she says, the dullness of her tone not matching the enthusiasm of the word.

Before Lana can respond, Mick makes his way back over, four full pint glasses clutched tightly in his hands. He sets them down on the table, the motion sending lager foam dripping over the edges and onto the wood beneath.

“Lana mentioned you’d be dropping in,” Mick says, sliding a glass across to her, a trail of moisture spreading across the tabletop in its wake, “so I got you a pint.”

“Thanks,” she says with a tight smile, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a deep sip, focusing on how the bitter bubbles fizz against her tongue.

“Any time, gorgeous,” he fires back with a wink, and she grimaces, feeling as though she’ll bring the beer back up that she’s just swallowed.

She’s grateful when he takes a seat next to John and the two fall into conversation, leaving her and Lana to catch up. They talk about work and Lana’s excitement over Thom finally asking her to move in with him. It’s nice to be around her best friend again, how easily they slot back into place as though no time has passed. She feels guilty for not having made more time for Lana, being secretly kept preoccupied by Billy.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her bag, seeing a text from him flash up on the screen. “were r u??”

She sighs, realising he’s likely turned up at her flat and seen she’s not home. It’s tempting to ignore him, considering he’s left her hanging for the last week, but she knows Billy, knows what he’s like, he’ll spiral if he doesn’t hear from her.

“At the pub.” She replies, then sends “With your sister.” as an afterthought, hoping it will deter him from turning up.

Putting her phone away, she continues drinking her pint and chatting with Lana, until Lana’s eyes move towards the door, brows raising in surprise.

“Here comes trouble,” she says, before taking a drink.

She turns, heart sinking as she sees Billy making his way unsteadily towards their table. His eyes are glazed, a pinkish hue is dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, the telltale signs he’s been drinking.

Mick looks up, raising his pint in greeting. “Billy! I’d offer you a drink, but I’ve not long gotten a round in. You can afford to get your own, right?”

“Mick, leave it,” Lana grits out, eyes narrowed.

“Sit down, Billy,” she says gently, pulling out the seat next to hers, “I’ll get you one.”

“I don’t need you!” He snaps, nostrils flaring and brow furrowing.

She flinches back, feeling her throat tighten, lowering her gaze to hide the hurt she feels.

Billy softens, shoulders sagging with shame, averting his own eyes. “Don’t need you to get me a drink,” he says quietly, “can get my own.”

She watches him weave through the crowded pub towards the bar, anxiety forming a pit within her stomach.

“Fuck’s sake,” she hears Lana mutter under her breath, turning to her. “I’m so sorry, had no idea he’d turn up.”

I did, she thinks to herself, but offers her friend a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Billy’s pint is already half drunk by the time he makes his way back to their table. He sets the glass heavily down on its surface, before slumping in the seat next to hers, fingers fidgeting with a beer mat.

“Still not working then, Billy?” Mick asks and she has to fight the urge to tell him to shut up, her grip tightening around the condensation coated outside of her pint glass.

“Starting an apprenticeship in two weeks, actually,” he says, shooting him a sideways glance, fingers continuing to spin the beer mat.

What? Why hadn’t he told her?

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth opening to ask about it, closing it again upon realising it’s not her place, not publicly anyway. Thankfully, Lana is quick to step in.

“That’s brilliant news! Doing what?”

“Car mechanics,” Billy says. “Bloke at the JobCentre sorted me out with it, I start in two weeks.”

“Wow,” Lana says with a genuine smile, “I’m dead pleased for you, mate, know how much you enjoyed doing up your old Vauxhall.”

Billy nods, tapping the edge of the beer mat against the table, not looking directly at anyone. “Yeah, should hopefully have a job by the end of it.”

She takes a mouthful of lager, swirling it over her tongue, trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s pleased for Billy, it would be cruel not to be, but she can’t deny the hurt she feels that this isn’t something he felt was worth sharing with her.

“Let’s hope this sticks, eh, mate?” Mick says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asks with a scowl.

Mick shrugs casually. “Seems like a good opportunity, would hate to see it go the same way as all your attempts to join the army.”

“Let’s keep it friendly, shall we?” John says uncomfortably, but is ignored by Mick.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, “hope another group of terrorists doesn’t come along and distract him. They teach you how to look for bombs while you’re fixing up the cars at this apprenticeship?”

“I said enough!” Lana shouts, slamming her pint glass down, eyes wide with fury.

The pub goes eerily silent, the Oasis song that’s playing on the jukebox and the scrape of Billy’s chair legs on the flagstone flooring are the only audible sounds as he stands abruptly, tossing the beer mat he’d been fiddling with onto the table.

“Going out for a fag,” he says sullenly, the chatter of surrounding tables gradually becoming louder as the shock of the sudden outburst wears of.

Billy walks out of the pub, head bowed, and she watches him go, her heart aching for him.

“Erm…think I’ll join him, actually,” she tells Lana, turning towards her, “could do with a smoke anyway. I’ll see if he’s alright.”

“Appreciate that, thank you,” Lana says, giving her hand a squeeze. “Think Mick and I need to have a little chat anyway,” her tone is suddenly stern, her gaze dark as she turns to face the man opposite her.

She nods, slipping her jacket back on and heads outside.

The shock of the cold night air hitting her skin causes her to draw in a sharp breath. It’s still damp outside and she worries that Billy might have gone home when she can’t immediately see him. It’s not until she walks along the road a short distance that she spots the glow of the end of a lit cigarette down an alleyway, the reddish hue dully illuminating Billy’s sharp features.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walks towards him. “You should ignore Mick,” she says softly, standing in front of him, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Billy exhales a plume of smoke, a hint of a sneer on his face as he draws his head back, staring at her through narrowed eyes. “Seems like he had the right of it to me. I’m a fuck up and almost got myself killed because of it.”

“You’re not, Billy,” she reassures him, “you were in a bad place. Those scumbags took advantage. Mick only takes the piss because he knows if he was in your position he wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He sniffs, scowling slightly as he takes another drag, and she shifts from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for him to say something, anything.

She sighs when it becomes apparent he won’t, silently exhaling smoke, his brooding silence too much for her to bear. “Why didn’t you tell me about the apprenticeship?” 

Billy swallows thickly, staring down at his trainers. “I was gonna, but then…then Becky text me.”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to get out, her skin growing heated despite how cold it is, as her heart lurches with painful jealousy.

She takes an involuntary step back, but Billy is quick to advance towards her, his free hand reaching for her. “No, not like that!” He says hastily. “I dunno what she wanted, actually. Messaged to ask how I was and I told her I was with you and not to contact me again.”

Her stomach flutters at his words.

Told her I was with you.

She can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “And then what?”

“Then she said it wouldn’t last, she couldn’t imagine why someone like you would wanna be with someone like me.”

“And you believed her?”

He chucks his cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it underfoot. “I followed my therapist’s advice; cut ties with people who force you to question your self worth - blocked her number.”

Pride swells in her chest at his words and she reaches for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“But it got me thinking,” he continues, “you deserve better than a few secret shags with your best mate’s waster brother.”

Her brow furrows, sadness making her feel heavy. “Is that why you’ve avoided me all week?”

Billy nods. “Yeah, just sorta wondered what the point of it all is, we have to keep it a secret anyway, and I’m just gonna fuck it up, same as I’ll do with this apprenticeship.”

She reaches up, cupping his face, fingers stroking over the scruff of his jawline, which is in desperate need of a shave. “Billy, it was your decision to keep us a secret. I’d tell everyone, given the choice. I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

His hands grasp her wrists, thumbs stroking the soft skin on the undersides. “Really?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at her hopefully.

Leaning up, she kisses his lips, quick and chaste. “Really. Billy, you’re so good,” she leans up again, pressing her mouth to his more firmly, for longer, savouring the feeling of him kissing her back.

“So good to me,” she whispers, trailing her lips along his jaw and over his neck, smiling as she feels him shudder, his long fingers threading themselves into her hair.

“I’m so proud to be with you,” she tells him, sucking at his pulsepoint, earning a groan, which she feels the rumble of through his chest.

She reaches down, palming him through his jogging bottoms, feeling the rapid hardening of his cock through the cotton. “You’re gonna do so well at your apprenticeship, show everyone else just how good you are.”

His jaw goes slack, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulls her in for another kiss. It’s deep and heated, his breathing rapid as he tongue works against hers. He tastes of tobacco and Carling, yet to her there has never been anything more addictive.

Pulling away, his hands slip from her hair as she drops to her knees in front of him, not caring how the dampness of the concrete soaks into the material of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks, lips parted in shock as he watches her tug at the waistband of his joggers and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his erection. “Someone could see!”

“Then let them see, Billy,” she whispers huskily, eyes flitting up momentarily to meet the ocean blue wideness of his. “I told you I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

She licks the flushed pink tip of him, humming appreciatively at the sharp taste, grinning to herself as Billy hisses through his teeth, eyes screwed shut.

“Tastes so good,” she coos up at him, reveling in the sigh of the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he twitches against her palm.

Opening her mouth, she envelopes the length of him in its wet warmth, hollowing her cheeks as she bobs her head back and forth.

“Oh…fuck!” Billy all but chokes out, and she moans around him, speeding up her movements, pulling back each time the head of him knocks the back of her throat, stroking her hand up and down the base in tandem.

It is risky to do this so publicly, and yet it adds to the thrill; on her knees in a darkened alleyway for her man, showing him exactly what he’s worth, what he means to her. 

Her core throbs with arousal, her movements becoming sloppy as Billy cups the back of her head, muscles tensing and his breathing becoming ragged. She can feel the tang of pre-cum against her tongue and knows he won’t last much longer.

She whines when he grips her hair, pulling her off of him and dragging his trousers back up.

“Why’d you do that? You were about to cum,” she huffs, rising to her feet.

“Exactly,” he says with a shrug, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and guiding her out of the alley. “Wanna be inside you when I do that though, and I’d much rather be back at my girlfriend’s place to do that than down a fucking alley.”

She grins, wrapping an arm around his waist as they walk home.

Girlfriend.

She likes the sound of that.

[thorntopieces]

assorted pjo/hoo headcanons pt 2

part 1 - part 2

A popular one, but Percy grew up speaking Spanish with Sally. Once Gabe came into the picture it became something shameful and something to be hidden. In the same vein as him never talking about Gabe, he never gives any indication that he knows any Spanish, not even when people speak it around him

Annabeth and Percy 'adopt' Will. Annabeth the winter session following TLT, Percy and Annabeth together following the Battle of Manhattan. They don't properly parent him or anything, but they check in on him and help him come to terms with being Head Counsellor. At first Will thinks they do it only because he saved Annabeth's life, but no, they really just care about him that much

Something I will elaborate on in a different post: both Jason and Nico have DID (dissociative identity disorder), presenting in very different ways. Nico's alters are all him at varying ages, except for one introject of Bianca and one of Percy (that never fully front, they work internally or influence passively). It could very easily be confused for just very severe mood changes and PTSD. He's not really aware of it and considers himself to just be moody. Jason has a more 'typical' presentation in that the different alters have different names, genders, ages, roles. He becomes aware of it around the time of the Battle of the West Front/Mt Tam, and again learns about it following TLH. It is the only way to cope, caused by both of them being exposed to continuous and repeated trauma at a young age. Nico is aware that Jason has a thing, while Percy knows something is up with Nico. They both just lack the terminology to explain it well. This is one of the reasons why Nico and Jason quickly get along at Camp Jupiter before the kidnapping and then again following the encounter with Cupid

After starting to recover from dissolving into darkness, Nico slowly starts going back to school. He's too busy, too ill and too behind to go full-time, so instead he goes two days a week for core subjects at Goode. To do this he spends two nights a week at Sally and Paul's place. It helps give him some of the normalcy he so desperately needs. The rest of the week he spends at CHB doing various things (teach classes, infirmary work, head counsellor duties, therapy). Will goes to a different school in NYC during the week but they make plans for him to transfer after Christmas break

Will doesn't like crying because it literally hurts him. Whenever he cries it's like his eyes are on fire so instead of trying to figure out why that is, he will do anything in his power to not cry at all

Healing and medicine are two separate traits for Apollo kids to inherit. Lee could heal, but Michael was the one with the field medic skills and thus the one to mostly train Will. When Lee died, the infirmary went to Will because divine healing is prioritised above mortal medicine. Will's not special because he can heal, he's special because he can heal and has an innate talent for medicine. Combine that with the photo- and nosokinesis and he's technically inherited four separate skills, whereas most Apollo kids would only get two (basic good aim/vitals reading/minor powers of prophecy does not count, those are universal). He really is all of Apollo's best and none of his worst

In the Last Olympian it's mentioned that Hades met Maria di Angelo in Washington D.C, but in House of Hades that Nico and Bianca grew up in Venice. Headcanon that Bianca was born in Washington D.C in 1930 but shortly after being born Maria di Angelo moved back to Venice in hopes of escaping the worst of the Great Depression. This didn't work (the Great Depression hit Italy in 1931 and peaked in 1932), but by the time it got bad it was harder than ever to leave fascist Italy, especially through official channels - which they would have to do considering Nico's nonno was an Italian diplomat and fleeing would put him in danger. Nico was born in Venice and in 1939, less than a year after visiting Diocletian's Palace they were cleared to reunite with his grandparents in the States, avoiding the outbreak of WWII.

The reason why the conversation with Venus horrified her so much wasn't because she was upset about not being destined to be with Jason, it was because she interpreted 'no demigod shall heal your broken heart' as having to date someone fitting the criteria (not a demigod, powerful because she has power) and the only person she can think of is Octavian. She absolutely thought Venus told her she was doomed to date Octavian

Percy who is the demigod most similar to Jason in terms of wolf traits developed because they had the same amount of 'established identity' when arriving at the wolf house (young age vs amnesia). Percy who learns to be entirely certain of initiating physical affection without fear after being at the wolf house because he learns that even dangerous beings can be gentle. Percy who is scared of initiating physical contact because he saw how Gabe was and how demigods used to react to him knowing he was a son of the Big Three

[yandereheathen]

Loving Caretaker [18+ Yandere x GN Reader]

Warnings! -Yandere obsessive Behavior -Non-con - Drugging -Gaslighting - NSFW (unprotected sex is a no no!) Word Count: 1445 He couldn't help it. Part 2.

Korm sat smiling at you as you peeked into his room. It was time for his lunch, the smell of the potatoes and leek soup creeping into the room mixed with something else as the cool fall air pushed into his stuffy room. Your scent. Like outside, a sweet, earthy smell he wished he could take into his whole body, not just his lungs. He relaxed as you softly stepped up to his bed, setting the wooden table on his lap in front of him. As per ritual, he went to his head, brushing his dark hair from his forehead. Your fingers made him excited, but he controlled himself. After all, it was other touches he wanted more. He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment.

"You are still a bit warmer than yesterday. I know you enjoy your weighted blanket, but I am worried you get too hot."

It was a crunch, perhaps. The blanket was a cheap replacement to make Krom feel like you were holding him tightly as he slept. He shook his hand, leaning on your shoulder as you let go of his head and sat beside him. 

"I like it. Also, it gets frigid at night Y/N. It is just the seasons changing. Didn't my Mother tell you how I got worse this time of year?"

You let out a heavy breath as you hug the poor man to your chest affectionately like a mother would her child. He, however, had other thoughts as you held him to you—a less Savory moment of you both where his face is at your chest.

You take his face in his hands and squish so his lips pucker up at you and take him out of his daydream. Your eyes sparkle at him with warmth and love as you massage his face, listing what you would do today. Breakfast, physical therapy, and some reading of the newest Brandom Sanderson secret novel that just came out, and if he were good, you would sneak him some time on your switch to play whatever game you wanted.

If he was good, he was your good little patient. He wanted nothing more than to hear you praise him and spoil him like you or the last three months you have been under his Mother's employ to take care of him.

The pleasure of all your attention made the fact that he was faking everything that much easier.

It started about the age of 15 when he realized when he was sick, everyone spoiled him. His Mother, his siblings, and even the doctors and nurses. They indulged him, and he thrived in the attention and care he got from them. He has in-home nurses, men and women rotating when they got too close or started noticing his charts didn't quite add up to how he looked. However he had them handled, no one would question poor, sickly Korm. 

You, you were different than anyone he had met. He knows you were put on this earth to care for and love him. He was here to be cared for and loved by you. He couldn't think that you were possibly just the kind of person who loved watching for others, and your smiles and careful touches had no hidden romantic agenda behind them. You should only look at him and care for him. That is what you were made for. It just took a frustratingly long time for you to get to him. He will forgive you, though. He always does. He would never stay angry at you for long. You were his whole world, and he was yours.

He would make sure of that.

As you both sat outside watching the leaves fall, his head was nuzzled in your lap, clinging to your thigh as you patted his head, playing with his dark hair as you read to him. He was in bliss. He loved laying outside with you as you read to him, your voice filling his ears, the warmth from your core on his cheek. The calm from the story was all that was holding him back from biting into the skin that his shorts were showing. While his mind wandered, you briefly set the book down.

"Korm, how are you feeling? If you need another sweater, you can use mine if you like."

How cute.

He nods, frowning slightly, feeding into the act by shivering barely, even if he felt perfectly fine. You undid your sweater, a tight T-shirt under it. His eye loomed over, and a small smile spread on his lips as you wrapped him up in your warmth. You hugged him while you did so, pausing for a moment; you let him go and turned him to you.

"Korm, I am going away next week. Just to go see...a Friend. Your Mother and I had coordinated the nurse to stay with you. I will ensure you are all set and she knows what you like. I will be back before you know it.."

His heart stopped. Now, he really felt sick. You couldn't. He needed you like the day required the sun. You couldn't leave him. You couldn't a b a n d o n h i m.

His thoughts raced, making him dizzy on his feet, and you held him, calling his name.

Who was this friend? Where were you going? What if you didn't come back. What if something happened to you? What if someone took you away or you got hurt. Our worst, what if you fell in love with someone. You were so sweet, so gullible, and caring. Anyone can just trick you easily.

He wouldn't let that happen. You were his. You would stay with him.

After his "attack," you had settled him back in bed, running around, making sure he was warm. And comfortable while calling and speaking to his doctors and Mother. He just looked away from you, stewing. His plan formed as you stepped outside, and he sat up to let his doctor look over him.

"You know, it might be my trouble sleeping. Doctor, would you have anything strong to help me sleep. Something that won't wake me up no matter what? I think it will be the perfect thing for my issue."

He stoked your face as you slept in his bed, hovering over you. 

So precrious while you slept. Of all the times we would sneak into your room next to him, this was different. Your breathing was lighter, and the tea he had made you was a special.. addition. It was next to your bed, empty.

He had already gone through your phone. The messages from the person with the pink heart beside their name almost made him sick. You must have just forgotten. You were made for him and him alone. He would remind you. He hit the delete and block buttons with pleasure, not before sending a nasty message to them. He canceled your flight and even, to be extra careful, canceled your cards as well. That will keep you here with him for a while.

He cooed at you, nuzzling your passed-out neck as he climbed over you. That smell, the warmth. He needed to be closer. He needed to be with you.

He wanted to be inside of you. Make sure you have a part of him wherever you go.

He bit your ear, sucking on the soft plush lobe, his hands wandering along your sleeping form. 

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much it hurts. Won't you take care of me like you always do?"

He settles between your legs, kissing and sucking down your neck, lifting your shirt so his greedy mouth can indulge in your taste. He needily pressed himself to you, his cock painfully hard and already leaking with his love for you, rutting with the force of months of nasty thoughts about this moment. He finds his way to your nipple, which is now hardened and rising fast with your intake of breath from his attack of kisses and humping. He smiles, sucking his other hand, massaging and pinching the other. 

He sits up after giving your chest 10 minutes of attention and feeling you cum against him from the stimulation with satisfaction. He licks his lips, unable to wait as he presses himself to your now lubed-up hole, his eyes crazy with his love for you.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I will take care of you this time. I will ensure that I will take care of you daily for the rest of your life. My wonderful, wonderful caretaker."

Author Note: ahhh here it is...I feel like it was short but here we are :> my first writing I hope everyone like it <3