#When days are bad I think to myself how great it must be to live in a timeline where Bald!Ren x Sans exists

[14dayswithyou]

OMG I CAN FINALLY ASK YOU STUFF??! (REAL)

I have two questions

What will Ren do if angel wants to get hus name tattooed on themselves? I know he did his tats by himself SO WILL HE DO IT FOR THEM OR WILL HE HIDE HIS TATTOO ARTIST SKILLS?

aaandd...

How will Ren take care of an angel who is hella self destructive (e.g. doesn't eat, doesn't drink, sleep deprived, overworks themselves, etc)? Will he sorta be a caring bf or will he be too scared to ask them to do something?

I love ren and I love you for making this game saint 🙏🫡 all hail bald ren 🥚

✦゜ANSWERED: Wahhhh no, thank you for all of the amazing art you've made!! ;v;

"Y'sure? This is permanent, y'know." A mess of dark hair blocks out most of your view as your boyfriend gently runs a gloved thumb over your skin. "Or… Semi-permanent. D'ya feel like paying for a tattoo removal appointment?"

"I'm sure," Comes your curt response — alongside an affirmative nod and a gentle squeeze over his bicep, "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't."

"...You're really sure?" No longer hunched over, he looks up at you this time. Soft, blue eyes hold your gaze as he decides to pull another answer from you. "Positive?"

"Yes," His name slips off your tongue easily, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm positive."

"Alright then."

Despite his calm demeanour, internally [REDACTED] was screaming and vibrating and bouncing around the walls of his brain. You wanted a tattoo of his name.

His name.

His real name.

Surely you must've known how much that gesture meant to him? I mean, sure, he was the one who impulsively tattooed your name on his throat and hip years ago, but it was merely to show just how dedicated he was to you and how far his feelings went. He was entirely yours — both physically and emotionally — and wanted everyone to know it.

Did that mean you felt the same way?

He figured you would've been sick of him by now after all these years, or at the very least... annoyed. Annoyed with him always asking you to eat something, even if it was a little bit. Constantly making sure you weren't overworking yourself, whether it was by sharing the workload or offering you a massage. Invariably dragging you to bed early with promises of endless cuddles, kisses, and warm blankets.

Despite all that, you still wanted him around?

Finally moving from his hunched-over position over your body, your dark-haired hacker looks up at you with the softest look in his eyes — almost as if you were the reason the moon rose in the sky every night. And as if he was the endless ocean, constantly gravitating towards you because it just felt right.

You held back the urge to move his bangs aside to get a better look at his face, and instead let the dark-haired man lean even closer into your personal space to place a chaste kiss upon your lips. Cherry and mint flood your senses as your boyfriend gently cups your jaw, and you can practically feel the adoration and appreciation radiate from the kiss he was giving you.

He doesn't seem to pull away from you for what feels like hours, but when he does, he doesn't stray far.

"What was that for?" You break the silence.

"…Felt like it."

Yet another curt response was given before he looks back to the patch of your skin he had prepared earlier. Giving you one last final glance, he picks up his tattoo gun with a determined glint in his eyes and starts to ink in the first letter of his name.

The name you came to love.

[wild-at-mind]

Being in a long distance relationship long term is so fucked up. For context for people in bigger countries I'm not talking flying distance from each other, I'm talking about 3 hrs apart on the train, so not that far arguably. But still far enough that our lives are almost completely separate in the practical sense, no matter how much we talk on the phone or meet halfway. When one of us stays over at the other's place we are still guests in each other's homes. I still don't know what cohabiting would be like and what a comfortable normalicy of being in each other's lives in person every day would be like. We're coming up to our 11th anniversary. I don't want to break up with him!!!! I love him deeply and I've never met someone I'm as compatible with as him. I've never been in love like this and I'm not easy to know, and yet he does know me and likes what he sees. I just feel I am stuck and I am frustrated that my sex life is like once every 3 months. I still don't even know how often we would have sex if we lived together, we haven't had the chance to find that rhythm. When we see each other there's no time to do any more involved stuff it's just getting off. Basically everytthing we've talked about has to stay in the realm of fantasy because there's never any fucking time.

I am trying I said to him- you need to do covering letters and things, you can't just send your CV that has never worked. He's the one who wants out of his current job, and out of his town, but applying for jobs is so fucking hard when you're working full time and trying to do things you love to not get fucking depressed. See I understand those things because I would feel the same way. If he moved here we could find a place together and I could find it out if I actually can live with someone else and stay mentally well. I'm getting too dependent on living alone in order to stay mentally well and it worries me.

Sorry to vent. I'm not looking for advice it's just venting.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 2

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?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

<< previous ♡ next >>

“That’s the girl, the one Chan told us about earlier,” one of the men says. Your eyes graze his frame. He looks cold, and you immediately decide you don’t want to get on his bad side. 

“Must be,” says the other man, his voice a low timbre that sends shivers down your spine. This man has long golden hair that reaches just past his shoulders and beautiful almond shaped eyes with brown irises. His heart-shaped lips and pointed nose give him an appearance that’s scarily similar to that of an elf, an unworldly beauty that makes you jealous that he was given such great looks. Compared to Chan, he wears a white button down shirt, adorned with silver rings that show off his hands, fingers long and nimble. Once again you can’t help but think about Hyunjin and his comparable beauty. They’re both so pretty, surely a false demeanor since they’re involved in the mafia. You hate yourself for noticing how attractive he is and how your heart skips a beat when your eyes make contact. 

“I’m Y/N,” you say. They stare at you for longer than necessary, and you gulp, reminding yourself to not feel intimidated. Show no weakness. Be strong. “Uh… is it okay if I make myself food? I’m starving.” 

“Oh yeah, go ahead and help yourself,” says the man with the blond hair. “I’m Felix, and this is Lee Know.” You glance at the man named Felix and nod, engraving his name into your brain. You decide to do just what he says, and you help yourself. You’re already nervous as the conversation lulls, knowing that the three of you won’t really have much to talk about. You notice that Lee Know is eating a bowl of cereal, and you opt on preparing yourself one as well. You also decide to eavesdrop on their conversation that has just continued. 

“Chris says that this mission will be very easy for you, Lee Know. It’ll be your standard infiltration. You’ll be there for a week, get dirt on them, come back.” You decide for the time being to not let them know you’re listening, though they’re smart enough to know you probably are.  “Jungwon has never seen your face before, and I heard he’s looking for new recruits as a method of retaliation.” 

You tense when you hear the name, and wonder if they know about your previous affiliation with the man. You can’t help the desperateness that runs through your body, the spark of hope, and suddenly it’s like you’re on the concrete again wishing for Jungwon to take you back, despite your better judgment. Your mouth is running before you can stop it, though. 

“Lee Know? You look like you would be a good spy,” you say in a sultry tone. “I bet you’re so smart.” Flirting has never been your forte, but an opportunity has arisen. 

The man is stoic, and he looks like he’s trying to not give you the time of day. In fact, he ignores you and moves on with the conversation. Your eyes flit to Felix, however, and notice his jaw tense at your actions. Your heartbeat speeds up and you continue on even though you know your attempts are futile. 

You lean against the counter with your cereal, letting your gaze land on Lee Know. You hope it's intense and filled with lust, and not ridiculous and embarrassing like you feel. You twirl a loose strand of hair around your finger. 

“You know, you could take me with you? I know a thing or two about ENHA, believe it or not. I can be your informant, I’m surprisingly deceptive.” You wink at him and that’s enough to get a rise out of him. He scoffs. You’re sure that’s the most reaction that the man has ever given.

“Absolutely not,” he speaks. 

“Come on, I’m sure you can do it, you seem like a perfectly capable man… But that’s what I’m here for, right? For you to use me to your advantage. So… use me,” you drawl out. 

“Enough,” you hear, but the voice doesn’t come from Lee Know. It’s Felix, instead, who seems to have had enough of your antics. You gaze up at him innocently, mocking offence. 

“I could be really useful, you know.” 

“You must think we’re really dumb,” he says. That makes you furrow your brow. 

“What–” 

“We know why you’re here. We aren’t going to let you use us, and you need to learn your place, fast. You think we’re dumb enough to let you walk right back into their territory? Everyone here knows that you’re affiliated with Yang Jungwon. So stop acting dumb and flirting with anybody you can see in order to get your way,” he spits. 

You’re at a sudden loss for words. You feel sick to your stomach, though, and you decide to abandon your cereal for some peace in your room again. It was a mistake to come down here, to interact with them, and you whip around to the direction that you came without making a sound. 

Felix reaches out and grabs your wrist, insistent on keeping you in the conversation but you wince, pulling your wrist away from his grasp. He furrows his brow, inspecting your features as you try to leave again; he proves to be faster, grabbing onto you once more and taking the injured area in his hands. You go to speak, to tell him to back off, but he squeezes gently as if to test something.  You fight yourself from screaming in pain and he traces his finger along the underside of your palm, examining the area. 

“Stop,” you tell him. “I’m leaving.” You realize too fast that he has noticed that you’re hurt and this makes anxiety beat hard against your ribcage. You start to pull away again but his arms envelop you, dragging you to the kitchen sink before you can even register what’s happening. His hands are on your arm and the faucet is turned on, and suddenly he’s scrubbing the affected area. “Felix, shit! That hurts, stop!” 

He’s more gentle now but your makeup and hard work has been washed down the drain. Unfortunately, as he brings your wrist to the light your bruises are completely exposed. His gaze meets yours and he looks at you expectantly. Your eyes meet the floor instead, and you decide not to say anything. You hope he will drop the matter, even. 

But then he grabs your arm and bends your wrist at the joint, as if to see how badly you’re hurt. You can’t help the yelp that escapes from your lips this time. 

“Shit, Y/N, you know this is broken, right?” You blanche. “Who did this to you? Was it Jungwon?” 

“I’m fine,” you spit out. His grip tightens, as if he were to challenge you, and he moves your wrist again to prove a point. The tears pooling in your eyes prove him right. 

“You don’t look fine. Now, answer my question and maybe I can help you.” 

You don’t even have to look to tell he’s shooting daggers into your skull. He’s angry, though you can’t tell at what, and that just makes you even more irritated. 

“Why do you even care?” 

“God, just answer the fucking question! You’re telling me you’re trying to go crawling back to the man that broke your wrist this badly? Please, please, tell me you’re not that pathetic.”  You scoff at him, angry even though his words ring true. 

“Jungwon did it,” you tell him meekly. You feel ashamed as you finally meet his gaze, and he just looks at you sadly as he reaches into the freezer for an ice pack. 

“Put this on your wrist. I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he says forcefully. And he’s gone faster than you can even blink. The ice is soothing on your injury, and you find yourself wondering how you didn’t realize it was broken. 

You take what was once Felix’s seat, right next to Lee Know. He was dead silent during the ordeal with Felix and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. He chews his cereal slowly, staring straight ahead and purposefully not meeting your gaze. His silence is unsettling so you let out a long sigh. 

“Is Felix like the nurse or something?” you say. You’re partially joking but you’re still unable to think of any other words to ask what his role is around here. You can’t help but be infatuated by the man and what seems like a fiery personality even though you’ve only known him for moments. 

“He’s Chan’s right-hand man.” That takes you by surprise. Felix doesn’t seem like the leader type and you wouldn’t have guessed that he holds that much power; he seems more delicate, soft-mannered, but you suppose you’re a historically bad judge of character. 

“I would’ve thought Hyunjin was his right-hand man,” you admit. You think back to earlier today, Hyunjin irritated at Chan for not consulting him before making the decision of bringing you here. 

“It’s not really your business,” Lee Know tells you. “But Hyunjin is his consigliere. He serves as an advisor, a confidant, whereas Felix is more like the underboss,” he explains. “While it’s Hyunjin’s job to know everything, Felix is really the second in command. Don’t take him lightly.” You’re grateful for the explanation, though you’re more surprised he went out of his way to give it to you. The conversation lulls, and you suppose that gives him time to think about the scene he had just witnessed. 

“You know it’s stupid to hide your injuries,” he says. You startle, and it’s strange how he still refuses to look at you, you think. “That’s why he’s mad. You could get more hurt. And while you’re here that’s the last thing we want for you. So quit it and let us help you, or you’re going to start to piss us off. Chan hates liars, you know. I know you don’t want to see him pissed off.” Your face heats up in embarrassment. For someone who usually seems to revel in staying silent, his words pack a punch. 

Felix has returned, unaware of the tension in the room and holding various bandages. He pries the ice away from your wrist and inspects it once again. Then, he takes a long bandage and slowly wraps it around the appendage. He’s too close to you, and you try not to focus on his warm breath against your skin. The ceiling suddenly looks really interesting, you decide, and that’s where you keep your gaze. His fingers linger on your skin, and it takes you everything not to think about it. 

“Keep this on for now. I’ll find some sort of brace for you, but until then try not to bend or apply pressure to the area,” he advises. He backs up, examining your frame and nods, content with his work. “Now if you really want to leave and go back to your room, you can. I know Chan wants to talk to you.” And that is the last thing he says before leaving the kitchen, leaving behind a pile of dishes and food on the counter. 

You return to your seat and eat in silence. The food doesn’t sit well and you feel nauseous, reminded of the fact that it’s been at least a day since you’ve eaten anything. Regardless, you push through and let the substance through your mouth, making feeble attempts to nourish your body with just cereal. 

Despite Felix’s warning, you shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and Bang Chan is sitting on your bed, waiting for you expectantly, but you kind of are.

“Sit,” he says, and you know it’s not a request. Your body carries itself to the bed before your brain can think, ‘stop, no, it’s a bad idea.’ You can tell that Chan is the type of person with a very commanding presence and it doesn’t take much convincing for anybody to listen to him. That scares you a bit. 

“Y/N, do I intimidate you?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you respond without missing a beat. 

“Good. I guess you’re smart after all.” Sitting here next to him on the bed feels wrong. You don’t know how else to describe it but you tremble at the sight of him. His eyes flit down to your bandaged wrist and he examines it carefully. “I see that you took the time to fix your broken wrist. That’s good.” 

“You knew it was broken?” You question incredulously. 

He looks at you from the side, as if he can’t believe the words that fall from your mouth. “You didn’t?” He challenges. 

You say nothing. 

“You look much more presentable than you did before, it seems like you’re a pro at covering up your injuries and fooling people.” He finally faces you, and you meet his gaze. You try not to think about how your knees are touching or how your heart is beating fast at the dangerous man before you. “It’s concerning, no? You shouldn’t be able to hide it so well. You won’t be able to hide things here, you’ll find that my men and I are a lot smarter than the people you’ve been surrounding yourself with.” And when his hands come up to touch your throat, you’re reminded of his prodding at your bruises just hours earlier. 

“Don’t,” you plead. 

“Keep an eye on your bruises,” he advises. “We can have someone look at it if it gets much worse. How does your head feel?”

“It’s fine,” you say, touching your wound mindlessly. You don’t mention the soft drumming sensation that’s been bothering you since you woke up. You wish the conversation would change, suddenly uncomfortable discussing your injuries with the man who inflicts violence so casually, and Chan, the perceptive man he is, changes the subject. 

“I need to lay down some ground rules about you staying here,” he says, clearing his throat. You nod, giving him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Number one: No contacting Yang Jungwon under any circumstances. I doubt that this will be feasible for you in any way seeing as you have no method of contacting him, but if for some reason you are in contact with him we will have assumed that you’ve leaked information to him and you will be punished. The punishment for betrayal is death,” he says and you gulp. “Number two: don’t try to escape. We will find you and there will be consequences. You seem like someone who likes to push their luck and I already know you’re bold, so I’m telling you not to try it.” 

“You’re threatening me,” you observe.

“I’m warning you,” he corrects. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to expect your undying loyalty the first day that you’re here, but I expect for you to treat me and the rest of us with respect. You respect me, I’ll respect you. I can ensure your safety, so don’t do anything stupid and maybe you’ll start to get some freedoms back. Just don’t test me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you respond. You’re sure that’s what he wants you to say and you look at the ground when he stands, walking until he’s out of sight. When he reaches your door, you hear it squeak open. 

“Have a good night, Y/N.” And with that, he is gone. You find yourself letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You’re alone in the room. You can’t help but think, I need to get the hell out of here. You know you’re acting dumb, especially when he just ensured you of your safety, but you can’t help your mind from racing. ‘Don’t contact Jungwon,’ he had told you. You find yourself not really wanting to anymore, which you suppose is good, but you still wonder if he’s even noticed that you’re gone. You wonder if he thinks that you’re dead, but you know that he has enough ties to the city that he could find out that information easily if he wanted to. What’s worse though is that you’re reminded of the fact that you have no way to contact anybody, to let them know you’re safe. You feel like a caged bird and think that if you stay, you might be stuck here for the rest of your life. You’ll never get to see your sister again, the only family that you have, and even though you haven’t talked to her since you started dating Jungwon you need to see her, to tell her you’re alright. She’s probably worried sick about you. That alone is enough for you to make a decision: You’re going to get out of here now before you don’t have the opportunity to. You’re sure Chan isn’t expecting you to leave so soon after giving you the direct order not to, and if you’re smart enough, you can take your sister and get the Hell out of the country before he has any way of figuring out where you are. Sure enough, your window is unlocked and it opens just wide enough for you to slip out of the room easily. You take one last look at the room given to you in this unfamiliar place and you have no regrets as you slip away into the night without leaving a trace. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: who's ready to read the first mini-chapter on Wednesday? it'll be a small backstory with one of the main characters that's not Y/N. who do y'all think will be first? taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

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

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I agree with you about your stances on punishment, and I think it's so important to see that perspective instead of the more common one. I do not want to live in a world with the death penalty or prison.

But I'm very curious how you got to the point where you want your abuser to be happy. Capital H happy. I've never seen that before. I think it's great, and it must've taken a lot of time, and if it's not too personal, I'd like to hear about the process. If not to help myself, to help someone else. I'm personally very very jaded to the whole "forgiveness" mentality (it seems very catholic to me somehow? I forgive you so I'm better than you?) But the way you put it feels different somehow. Sorry for picking your brain, and if it's too personal I totally get it. Thanks for your time.

Thank you for this question.

Hm, it's a tough one. It may be informed by my lack of any singular capital-A Abuser. Certainly, I have had people who were abusive to me longer term (my mother especially), but for the most part it was many dozens of adults in single instances or shorter term situations during my childhood and teenage years that raped or otherwise harmed me. That lack of any singular individual to act as a locus for all the damage may have made it easier for me to come to a point where I wish them well.

I remember being 19, face in my toilet bowl, puking my guts up after downing a fifth of rum in an hour or two. I think it was a Thursday. I understood my mother for the first time. I wanted to stop drinking, and I didn't know why I couldn't.

My roommate at the time slept on a mattress on the floor in the living room. He left his family the day he turned 18 and took the Greyhound across the country to crash with me. We were good friends when he got here, but my negligence and failure to control my drug use ruined that relationship within a few months. He stayed with me for two years. He didn't have other options.

I don't remember those years well at all. Besides various temp jobs, all I did was drink, get fucked up, and make messes I never cleaned up. It was a one bedroom apartment and I had the bedroom, he couldn't really go anywhere. He didn't really know anyone. I was a fucking terror to live with, and a terror he couldn't even really get away from.

And I didn't mean to be that way. I didn't mean to hurt him with my dereliction. But it doesn't matter, y'know, impact is more important than intent. I fucked up bad.

Eventually he left. I was and still am filled with remorse for putting him through what I did. Maybe this perspective is the christian upbringing, maybe it's twelve step bullshit, but often I see my feelings as very self serving. I can justify just about anything, as long as I use enough self pity. But this feeling was different. It was just... remorse, pure and unfiltered. No rationalizations as to how it wasn't really my fault, no equivocations, no blaming outside factors, just acknowledgement that I fucked up and I hurt someone I loved. I was sorry that I had done that.

Humility does not come naturally to me. This was a humbling experience.

I--and everyone I've ever met, everyone who ever harmed me--am a human being. No more, no less. In each of us is potential both to love deeply and to do great harm to others. No one is without both these potentials.

It comes down to this: what I wish for myself, I must wish for all.

Do not mistake me here--this does not neatly translate into a pragmatic political position. For me, this is simply some sort of spirituality, that is to say, how I strive to navigate my life, day at a time, in the world as I find it. This is as small scale as it can get.

I understand that feeling about forgiveness you mention. What I have to say about it probably won't help the christian connotation; I am an atheist and a subjectivist, though obviously culturally evangelical. Maybe it is that last part that influences this next, but I don't feel I have the authority to forgive anyone. Or, in another word, 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'

Now, of course, I believe in neither god nor sin, but I do believe in harm. 'Let he who is not capable of such harm cast the first stone,' perhaps. Not all harm is equivalent, certainly, but no one is innately capable or incapable of greater harm than others. The ability to actually do harm is relative to relations to power, no doubt, but a given power relation is not innate.

So yeah I end up back at 'i have no moral high ground over or under anyone else, the forgiveness is neither mine to give nor withhold,' which frankly is a rather christian viewpoint.

There's this idea in Judaism that has stuck with me for the last few years: tikkun olam. To repair the world. What must I do to ensure my part in that repair happens?

There is so little I have control of. The only thing I can change is what I do. If the world around me is hardened and cruel, why must I adopt that cruelty into myself? Will it get me better outcomes in life? Perhaps, perhaps not. I have found it hasn't, but others may find it has. But that's talking about results. And I don't have power over results.

I cannot change the world, cannot repair it alone. But I think I can work to repair myself, and in the process, the smallest portion of the world may be repaired alongside me. Maybe, maybe not. It becomes a matter of faith. Or to put it in a therapeutic framing, it's an 'even if.'

I'll end with this, an old twelve step saying: "resentments are like drinking a bottle of poison and expecting the other person to die."

What is a resentment? Re- as in once more. -sent, as in sentiment. Feeling something once more. It is the reanimated corpse of a feeling, not the feeling itself. It looks like the feeling you know, maybe walks and talks like it too. But it's rotting away. It died long ago. So why should you pretend the corpse is alive? It moves, it rasps, but it's something else now; it only shares a body with the original, nothing else. So maybe it's time to let go, and begin to move forward.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Yuta finding out you've got severely injured at Shibuya and freaking out

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: When the news of Shibuya begin to flood in, Yuta almost loses his mind over you. Without thinking twice he pays you, the secret love of his life, a visit.

Warnings: reader is depressed over her injury/disabilities so if that's not for you don't read it, Yuta is very confident in this one like he should, hurt/injury, comfort with my boy Yuta in the end

„Don’t tell me she was there too.”

Pictures flood Yuta’s mind uncontrollably. Your oh so gorgeous doe eyes, your breath-taking smile. You with your hair done the way you know he likes, you in that uniform that suits you so well.

You, lying on the floor covered in your own blood.

The news of what happened at Shibuya already pulled the ground underneath his feet. But given the fact that everyone was involved like Miguel said, you must have been there. They would be reckless to not rely on your powers.

You, a grade 2 sorcerer who would have become a grade 1 within the next few months. You, who promised him that you’ll stay safe.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, okay? This is a great opportunity to get a hold of your great powers, Yuta. I mean of course I’ll miss you terribly, but not enough to destroy this for you. Watch out.”

He had a bad feeling right from the start. After everything that happened just a few months ago, letting you go was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. But you were right with what you’ve said, to accompany Miguel and invest his time into training really was the wisest thing he could do back then.

Except for leaving you behind.

“You mean (y/n)? Both you and I know she definitely was.”

His heart drops in an instant, eyes widen in nothing but pure horror. Hearing that none other that Satoru Gojo got sealed, countless lives ended within only a couple of hours…

You can’t be dead, right? No, it’s simply impossible that you leave him alone like this.

“I hate the thought of dying during some pointless battle. This just doesn’t make sense to me, y’know? I’d rather die as a hero or not at all until I’m old and ugly.”

“But (y/n), you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. Many people just die on the battlefield without a special purpose.”

“I won’t, then.”

God, your wide smile back then. It really made him believe that you are the type to survive everything, that nothing and no one is able to bring you down.

But Shibuya managed to even get a hold of the strongest of them all. So what about you?

His lips begin to tremble uncontrollably, hands clenched into fists so tightly that blood begins to spill.

“Tell me she’s alright. Tell me (y/n) made it without getting hurt.”

Miguel signs, the sheer power that radiates from Yuta’s shaking figure running shivers down his spine.

“As far as I know she managed to get out…Somehow.”

That means you’re alive, right? That means you were able to escape certain death. But…

At what cost?

“How is she, then? Tell me already”, Yuta barks at the man standing in front of him.

God, he can’t lose you. Not know. Not when he wasn’t even able to admit his feelings to you, to thank you for always standing by his side, before telling you how much he adores you with all his heart.

“I don’t know! Everything is pure chaos over there”, Miguel replies dryly.

“If that’s so, I will go and pay her a visit.”

“Now? Did you forget you’re here to get trained by me? You can’t just fly over there because of a girl-“

“She is more than just a girl”, Yuta interrupts him immediately.

“And I will go and look after her myself.”

-At Jujutsu High-

Urgh, how much you hate opening your eyes since that fateful day. Yes, you are very much alive and in proud possession of all your limbs. But that’s it, basically.

“Hey, how you’re doing?”

“Better than yesterday, still not fine I guess.”

It haunts you. The pictures of Shibuya plague your mind day in day out. Closing your eyes means seeing all of their faces before they die, opening them reminds you of the fact that you survived despite losing everything else. The sight of your left eye, the ability to move your arms freely, your capability to walk a straight line. The fucking special grade curses hit you hard, burned you to the ground, sliced you open like a fish.

And now you’re laying here as one of the few people that survived Shibuya. Right next to Shoko who cares for you every free minute.

“So glad you didn’t tell me you hate your life again, pessimism doesn’t suit you at all. What would that boy say if he could hear you blow misery?”

That boy named Yuta. It seems like everyone except himself knows about the huge crush you have on him. Well, not very surprising considering the fact that you talk about him day in and out, asking whenever he’s doing fine in that foreign land before even saying hallo.

“Haven’t heard from him since that shit happened. My phone got kinda destroyed and well, most of the time I laid here passed out on the bed”, you reply briefly, staring at the ceiling with no aim.

Oh, how much you long for him, how much you miss to hear his comforting words in the middle of the night. But you know it wouldn’t be wise to tell him what happened. As far as you can tell, Yuta would take the next flight to Tokyo and stay by your side day and night. And even though that sounds more than appealing to you, you just know this isn’t what he needs. He needs to stay where he is, safe and sound while sharpening his abilities. And you aren’t on that list.

“Well, someone definitely told him.”

You squint your functioning eye, staring at the unbothered woman in front of you in confusion. What the hell is she talking about?

“Why are you saying that?”

“(y/n)!?”

Your heart stops, eyes widen. That voice. That oh so familiar voice you heard over the phone for these past months. The voice you dreamed of day and night. Can it really be…

“Yuta?” you breathe out, eye searching for his familiar figure.

Yes, is really is him, standing in the middle of the room with his familiar white uniform. He looks so…different. The dark circles under his eyes are completely gone by now, his dark blue eyes glooming in the dim light. He definitely is a few inches taller than last time, features more mature than before. And his hair…it seems like he finally began to style it a little.

Without hesitation he storms towards you, glistening orbs scanning what’s left of your crippled body.

Yuta feels like dying. You’ve been through so much; your usual bright eyes show nothing but emptiness and agony. What did they do to you? Why does it have to be you? You, the most precious human being walking on this earth. You, the girl he’s secretly in love with since that horrible fight over a year ago. He can’t stop the tears from taking his sight, hands desperately grabbing yours.

“I’m so sorry (y/n). I should have been by your side. I shouldn’t have left you here alone, I-“

“Shut up, Yuta”, you interrupt him before hearing another word.

“You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect our first meeting to be when I…look like this…”, you mumble, gaze avoiding him at any cost.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

His heart hammers against his chest, hands on their way to gently caress your cheek when you just turn away.

“All this time I had the chance to tell you that I love you and now…Look at me. Shoko said I might be never able to see again, countless scars will be visible on my body for the rest of my life. My leg got completely destroyed, to the point where even she might not be able to fix it. I’m not the (y/n) you know anymore. I’m a shadow of myself”, you bark at him.

Fuck, don’t cry, don’t let feelings overwhelm you. After all, Nanami-san told you how well you fought.

Just before dying in front of your very own eyes.

Your hands begin to tremble uncontrollably again when pictured of all the death and misery flood your mind. Why can’t you just turn it off? Why aren’t you strong enough to outstand all of this? Desperately you hold your own head, squinting your eyes shut. Please, just let it stop. Let it all go away.

Yuta doesn’t think twice. Gently, he places his hands on top of yours while pressing your head against his chest. It’s just not fair. When he left, you wore your smile so effortlessly, your joyful personality radiating to the outside for everyone to see. But now…you look so broken it kills him from the inside.

“I love you too, (y/n). Just the way you are. No matter how injured, no matter how bad you feel. I will always see the striking (y/n) with the most breath-taking smile and the worst humour of all times in you. We’ll get through this together, okay? I won’t leave your side.”

You crumble against his chest, letting everything out your hid so well within these last couple of hours. Oh, how much you fucking missed him, how much you longed for his touch all this time. Is it really possible that he doesn’t care about your state? Could it really be that…

Yuta Okkotsu loves you the way you are?

“You don’t care about how miserable I am?”, you whimper, taking in his delicious scent that hasn’t change even after all this time.

“Not the slightest. But I will kill everyone who did this to you without blinking”, he remarks in all seriousness.

You gaze up at him. The unsure boy in him seems to be vanished in thin air, eyes filled with confidence while he balls his fists behind your head.

Yuta Okkotsu might have changed, but the tenderness he holds in his gaze when his eyes meet yours is still the same.

“I swear that nothing like this will ever happen again. I’ll stay here with your and will make sure you’re safe.”

Your glossy eyes widen, mind trying to process his words.

“But you…you weren’t even supposed to be here. You still have to train-“

“No training in the world is more important than you. I love you, (y/n). And even though I wasn’t able to admit it back then, I want to stay by your side.”

 And then is lips meet yours. Before he losing the courage to finally do what he dreamed of countless nights, to make sure you understand how much you mean to him. He will make them pay for what they did to you, he will move heaven and earth to make sure they get the punishment they deserve.

But for now, he gently strokes your hair while kissing you with all the desire he hit over the past months, will all the love he holds for you.

“I’ll be there for you, okay? And I will kill every single one of them with my own hands.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

there you have it @lees-chaotic-brain I really hope you like it <3 I know this isn't your request yet but I thought you'll enjoy some Yuta content still @belovedvamp

[esoteric-crow]

hey actually isn’t there something kind of really sad about the fact that the hardest difficulty (that isn’t just like. hell or hell. which is just ‘haha hehe Blow up.’) is called Dante Must Die. i think about it a lot. i can’t quite put my finger on why it makes me miserable but maybe someone else can.

but you know what i CAN talk about and i DO have actual fully formed thoughts about?

regenerating like crazy is great. but isn’t there something kind of inherently fucked up about the fact that, because of the regeneration dante and vergil have, neither of them will ever have tangible evidence to themselves or others of their suffering? asking themselves, was it really that bad? did it even happen at all? no matter how much you put vergil through hell and how afraid he is inside, there will never be a mark on his skin that says “i have suffered”. the world leaves no proof, nothing to take home from this experience aside from a more broken mind. vergil doesn’t say his feelings, or even allow them to surface properly, because that’s a kind of vulnerability he cannot handle. the only way he could perhaps earn someone’s sympathetic care is by expressing what he has suffered through, but he cannot verbalize that. and he looks perfect. unmarked by time or trauma. there isn’t a single part of his body that could scream out for him that something horrible has happened that he cannot figure out how to deal with alone.

and dante is just as poor off. and he’s very difficult to figure out emotionally to a passerby. dante purposefully puts on a happy face every day, and to the majority of the world, it’s convincing. there’s certainly no evidence to themselves contrary. not a scratch on him. but he is like kind of constantly getting the ever loving fuck beat out of him. stabbed and jabbed. when you look at him, you see happy, sweet, goofy dante. for all the years of pain he’s gone through, there isn’t a single marred inch of his skin that could tell you even a day of the agony unless he told you. and why would dante do that when he can pretend it simply isn’t happening until he’s alone and can sit with the terror that’s constantly in him and the loss he’s been living with, over and over losing people and being surrounded by the ghosts of their presence. whether the ghost is a wayward descendent, a gun, or just a lingering smell of ash in his childhood home. but that will only be private. he can be the walking dead, he can treat himself like shit, but his body refuses to show anything for it. and he’s certainly not going to die.

obviously, the same thing can be said for the opposite side of the spectrum: scars can be a constant reminder in the mirror of what happened that you cannot erase, always to some degree a part of you. among other stuff. so both sides of the coin are full of The Pains and The Anguishes.

on a side note, i really like when people give them like, one scar. i don’t really have a favorite one that people give vergil but i really like dante with just the one bigass gnarly one in the middle of his abdomen from the rebellion gettin jammed in there. his One scar. a treate. like it defies his regeneration somehow.

i love making a scarred up guy. i have plenty of scars n marks myself, and i feel like they should definitely be more normalized, so like, no this post isn’t anti scars or something. they’re normal and not ugly or whatever the hell people try to say. this side note is probably entirely unnecessary, but i’m tired and i’m worried about someone misunderstanding me i think. anyway i’m trying to say ooh scar angst yeah but sometimes No scars is also fucked up too. that’s the point here.

to sum up: i believe there can be something Fucked Up and angsty to be said about the fact that the sparda boys heal perfectly fine, but only externally. it is 3am. this is not articulated as well as it could be i don’t think. aaaand post.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I think it's very fun to talk about mental health in normalizing conversations because when I was little and I would tic so hard for so long that I started crying, my mom would hold my hands and tell me to stand on her toes and she would "dance me through it" and so I would and she would spin around and around, stepping carefully so my little feet never slipped off the top of her feet, but moving fast so I would get all giggly and dizzy, and by the end she was right! My ticcing wasn't as bad anymore.

And like. I know now that it's because I was actively stressing myself out trying to stop ticcing, and since my tics are stress-reactive that obviously made it worse, but at the time I was just a kindergartener living in a world where dancing made my body stop performing the compulsions and so sometimes I would "dance myself through it" if mom wasn't around and when people maxe fun of me for it, I couldn't do that around them anymore and so I would tic more often and get more overwhelmed and there were days I wouldn't stop ticcing for hours on end because no one but my mom was willing to just let me dance through them.

But until the first time that happened, I didn't know there was anything unusual or unfamiliar to others about what I was doing. My mom was just so matter of fact about it "when you can't stopticcing, that's your body asking you to move and dance amd get the stress out" so I believed her! Of course I did. And she was right even, at least for me.

I was an adult by the time I learned that my mom ticc'd too, because she'd been doing what she taught me for so long that it was rare it happened visibly anymore, and it made sense that she'd been able to move me through my own experience so gently after that. But what if it didn't take a parent sharing our experience to be able to exist in a context that doesn't pathologize or shame what's happening?

Anyway, I've been in and out of various inpatient and outpatient programs since I was 7yrs old, and nothing did more damage to me than the people who taught my mother that there were things about my brain and body that were Wrong TM and needed fixing when she had spent the entirety of my life up to that point accommodating my needs and helping me understand how to coexist in the world on my own terms. I've benefitted from having names for things, sure, and I've had great healing and community in peer groups based around sharing those experiences. But at the end of the day, it is when those same spaces allow me to decide how to talk about what my life feels like that they have meant the most to me. I will always be grateful to the mental health care providers in my life who have been supportive of this type of care for me, but ultimately I also understand that they were able to do that because they were actively breaking down my framework of "because I experience x, I must compensate with y" into a gentler version that goes more like "because I experience x, I may need to seek out y outcome in different or unexpected ways."

I don't know why that makes as much difference to me as it does, but it does.

Anyway, I want to do for someone else what my mom did for me. I want someone else to get to feel like they can ask themselves what they need to get through something and not set any particular moral or emotional meaning to that need.

I have, among others, symmetry tics. If I experience a sensation on one side of my body, I will often reflexively try to adequately mirror it on the other side of my body. One of the pitfalls I often fall into is "the symmetry tic was actuallya different sensation and now I have to mirror THAT on the original side" and off we go into a tic spiral. The trick, for me, has been learning how to hold myself safely in the stress of the tic compulsion until the original sensation passes or fades and that allows the compulsion to fade with it. That can be hard, but taking a cue from my mom, I've found that when I occupy my body with movement, especially goal oriented but indefinite movement like dance, I have a MUCH easier time waiting for the trigger sensation to fade. I think it's good for those of us with experiences we often feel compelled to hide from view to get time in the sun. It lets us remember that our existence is not inherently side-lined in favor of other existences, and we do have the right to ask people to work with us on creating space for our own version of living. That may not guarantee us the desired outcome, but I've found that feeling you have the right to ask in the first place and actively come to the conclusion TOGETHER that there is not a solution is what seems to allow me to make those compromises without feeling erased or ashamed when I do.

[gothamite-rambler]

Vengeful specter in a haunted Airbnb - Duke Thomas doesn't deal with ghosts

Specter: Leave this domain or you shall-

Duke: Imma cut you off ma'am.

Duke pointed to the open front door with a deadpan expression.

Duke: I can head out through the same door I entered at?

Specter (thrown off): Ye- Yes.

Duke: I'm out.

Specter (surprised, but elated): Oh... Many thanks!

Duke threw up a peace sign and proceeded to run out, but Tim and Stephanie followed behind him. Duke was dragged back in attempting to flail and break away.

Stephanie: Stop doing that!

Duke: I mean this in the nicest way because you're family: Stop doing stupid white people shit! Y'all ain't stupid, but what is it with you guys and wanting to mess with the spirits?

Specter: You're family? My word... times have changed. Good for you. LEAVE!

Duke: I'm trying to, but these two want to stay. See I knew Steph was hiding something when she said the Airbnb was cheap. You are actually insane like Joker if you think I want to spend the night here!

Stephanie (gasped, offended): I resent that insult! I came here for an exciting and fun vacation-

Tim (revealing the true reason): She wanted to cross being in a murder haunted house off her bucket list.

Stephanie (shouting): Judas!

Specter: Sorry to insert myself into the conversation, but so far I'm allowing the colored man to leave, but I'm losing my patience.

Duke: Colored man... Did he say murder haunted house?!

Stephanie: It's not that bad, some people were murdered here. We can handle the specter.

Specter (getting louder with rage): Some people? HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME!

Duke (holds up his index finger): Specter lady, specter lady, specter lady, can you explain to us what type of ghost you are?

Specter (calm): My husband killed me to collect the insurance money and marry the maid who he proceeded to kill as well. She occupies the basement, she's harmless, but and buried our bodies under the floorboards of the house. I rose as a ghost and killed him in cold blood. He's burning in hell. I spend my days a vengeful spirit ending the lives of men. Cheating mean mostly, but sometimes I got a little stir crazy... I'm being incredibly patient with the two men standing in this house currently.

Tim (fretful): Duke that sounds bad, but-

Duke (chuckling dryly as he yanked Tim by his shirt collar): You got me fucked up. You done got me fucked up if you think I'm dealing with this. Stephanie, call the Ghostbusters to deal with her!

Tim: Let me stay!

Duke (ignoring Tim): Out this door?

Specter: Right where you entered, yes. Thank you, colored man, I will spare you both.

Duke (letting go the colored man part): Cool.

Stephanie: Guys?! I already put the deposit down, I wanted to do something fun for the fall!

Stephanie sighed upset, rubbing her forehead.

Specter (jovial tone): I won't kill you, if that helps. Invite guests if you must, but only women.

Stephanie (mulling the right choice): I'm not wasting this money and this is being crossed off my list. Can I call a friend of mine to help cleanse your spirit or whatever? They're a woman.

Specter: That could work me and my maid have been wanting to move to the great beyond for the last hundred and fifty years.

Stephanie (dialing Zatanna's number): Cool.

[canirove]

Mason Mount Imagine | seven

Author's note: I hadn't written an imagine in ages, but yesterday after seeing these gifs of Mason at that charity event the other day I got inspired, and here we are 😁 Hopefully this will give me the last push I need to finish my next story, who also happens to be about Mason 👀 As always, I hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜 Little summary: Your dad works at a chairty auction and has asked you to be his plus one. You expect to bore yourself to death, but a cute guy with a dimple has other plans 👀 (Female reader/pov)

Masterlist

“Dad, do I really have to go?”

“Yes, honey. You must.”

“But it is going to be so boring…” I complain. “What am I going to do at an auction full of old people?”

“Thank you for the compliment” he chuckles. “But you will be supporting your father after months of hard work. And there will be young people too.”

“Sure” I snort.

“There will be. Now c'mon, I can't be late.”

“But…”

“Chop, chop, honey.”

“Ok, fine” I sigh. “Just promise me you won't call me honey in front of everyone.”

“I won't” he smiles, opening the door of our house. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you, dad. But I feel like I may rip this dress any moment now” I say as I walk past him, crossing all my fingers so it actually doesn't happen, and I end up making a fool of myself in front of all his work colleagues and some of the richest people in the city. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ok, this is your seat, hon… Your seat” my dad smiles after I give him a murderous look. 

“Aren't you sitting down with me?”

“I still have to take care of a bunch of things.”

“Are you leaving me alone? And surrounded by strangers?”

“You'll be fine, honey” he chuckles. “I promise I'll come and have a drink with you. Now try to have some fun.”

“But dad…” I start, not being able to finish my complaint since he is already gone. "Great" I sigh.

“So, do you come here often?” someone says, taking the empty seat next to mine.

“I beg your pardon?” I say, turning around to face the owner of that voice. 

“That was bad, wasn't it?” he laughs.

“Worse” I say, my eyes fixed on him. On the cutest guy I have ever laid eyes on. 

He is wearing a classic black suit with a black tie, nothing too shocking. But paired with the smile on his face and the dimple on his left cheek… wow. Simply wow.

“What are you doing at an event like this, tho?” he asks me. “I wasn't expecting to meet anyone younger than 50” he chuckles, his dimple showing once again. Is it possible to fall in love with something like that? Because I think I just have.

“My dad convinced to come as his plus one and support him tonight.”

“Is he part of the auction?” 

“He is the guy running around like a headless chicken to make sure everything is ok” I laugh, looking at him when he suddenly shows up running up and down the stage.

“Martin?”

“Yep, that's him. Do you know him?”

“I do. He is a really nice guy.”

“I may be a bit biased here… But he is, yes” I smile. “He has put so much work and sleepless nights into today's auction… Like, I don't know how many coffees I made for him while he tried to convince this football player to be part of it.”

“A football player?”

“Yeah, a super famous one, I can't remember his name. He kept telling my dad that he was super busy with other commitments” I snort. “What commitments could have a guy who makes a living from kicking a ball? Spending lots of money in ugly clothes just because they have a certain logo, and buying huge cars?”

“Don't forget about the ugly haircuts and tattoos” he chuckles.

“That too.”

“Aren't you into football, then?”

“Nah, not my thing. What about you?” I ask him, finally daring to look him in the eyes. Which is a big mistake, because even in the kind of dark light of the room, I can see that he has the most beautiful brown eyes ever. Eyes that are currently giving me a mischievous look I can't understand. 

“Not my thing either. Footballers are a bunch of twats” he says, making me laugh. “Anyway... I know we just met, but I'm gonna need your help with something.”

“Mine?”

“Yours” he says with a smile that matches the look on his eyes. “I'm about to be auctioned.”

“You what?”

“It sounds bad if you say it like that, but people are basically going to bid money to have a personal experience with me.”

“That isn't making it sound any better.”

“Oh, you dirty mind” he smirks, making my cheeks start to burn. Thank God he can't notice with the low light. Or can he? “But some people here may be expecting that kind of experience. Earlier I overheard a couple of women talking about me and looking at me in a way that… Well. You can imagine.”

“I don't blame them, tho” I say, speaking before thinking.

“Thank you” he smiles, that dimple I'm definitely in love with showing in all its glory. “So, what I need you to do, is to win my auction.”

“What? With which money?”

“Mine.”

“What?” I say again. “Is that allowed?”

“I don't think so. But since it is for charity, I think your dad can look the other way and allow it. What do you say? Will you win this for me? I promise you you will have the best date ever.”

“A date?” I say, almost choking with my own words.

“Unless you have a partner and I'm making things weird.”

“No, no. There is no one” I quickly say, my cheeks burning once again, and especially when I notice how I've made him smile.

“Great” he says. “It'll be very easy. They will say a number and you…”

“I know how an auction works.”

“Yes, of course. Of course you do” he apologizes. “Will you do it, then? Pretty please?” he pouts, making me focus on his lips. Lips that look so kissable and so…

“Fine, I will” I sigh, giving up and focusing on a different part of his face. But even his hair looks attractive.

“Thank you” he smiles once again, kissing my cheek. “And that's my cue, I have to go. Don't worry about the amount of money, ok? I can pay whatever they offer.”

“Ok” I nod, my brain still thinking about the feeling of his lips on my cheek, on how my skin tingles.

“And you have number 19 on your bidding paddle, that's my lucky one. Everything will work out, you'll see.”

“Yes” I nod again. 

“See you in a bit” he winks before leaving our table and me trying to understand everything I'm feeling and that just happened.

“And now for our next bidding… Mr. Mason Mount, Manchester United player and football star!” a voice announces from the stage.

“What?” I say, snapping out of whatever is going on with me and focusing on the guy walking up the stage. “No way” I gasp.

It's him. The cute boy with the dimple who just convinced me to bid for him and win this auction… It's Mason freaking Mount. The football player my dad spent hours trying to convince to attend tonight. The one I basically called a twat to his face.

“Remember that the winner will get to enjoy a personal experience with Mr. Mount. Not that type of experience...” the auctioneer chuckles as some women start giggling. “Are we ready? We'll begin with £1,000.”

The moment he says that number, a bunch of bidding paddles are raised. 

“Ok, what about £2,000? Does anyone offer £2,000?”

More paddles around me. People definitely are eager to spend some time with him, with Mason. And once again, I don't blame them.

I've spent five minutes with him, and you could say they have been some of the best five minutes of my life. And not because of how handsome and cute he is or because I'm in love with his dimple. There is something about him, about the way he talks, looks and listens to you, that makes you feel… I don't know. Comfortable.

“What about… £5,000!”

Still the same amount of paddles. No one is giving up. And it keeps being like that as the number keeps going up and up until it makes it to…

“£50,000! Does anyone offer £50,000?” 

People start whispering among themselves, trying to decide if they should make an offer or not. And then, a blonde woman raises her bidding paddle. 

“We have an offer! Anyone else?” the auctioneer says.

That woman is going to win, and Mason doesn't seem to be too happy about it. The look he is giving me from the stage is saying it all, and also reminding me that I should be bidding for him too.

“And we have another offer!” the auctioneer says when I raise my paddle, Mason smiling from ear to ear while my dad looks at me as if I've grown another head.

“What the hell?” he mouths.

“Trust me” I say back.

“Ok, what about £51,000? Does anyone offer £51,000? Ladies?”

Once again, I can feel Mason's eyes fixed on me.

“And we have £51,000 from the lady in the back!” the auctioneer announces when I raise my paddle, everyone in the room looking my way. “£51,000 at one… £51,000 at two… £51,000 at three! We have a winner!” he says, hitting his little hammer so loud that I can feel it in my bones, Mason pointing in my direction with a smile that could make anyone's knees feel like jelly. Dear God, what did I just do? 

“Honey, what did you just do? Are you drunk?” my dad says, suddenly showing up next to me.

“I can explain everything, I swear.”

“Miss, could you please join us on stage?” the auctioneer says.

“You better. Now let's go, they are waiting for you.”

“But dad, wait. I can't. I can't go in there.”

“You won the auction, honey. You must go up there” he says, helping me get up.

“Dad, I can't. I…” And then, I hear it. The back of my dress ripping. “Dad!” But he isn't listening, already dragging me to the stage where Mason is waiting.

“Please let's give a round of applause for this young lady!” the auctioneer says.

“Thank you for… Hey, are you ok?” Mason says as he takes my hand and helps me up the stage.

“I'm pretty sure I just ripped the back of my dress” I say while everyone claps.

“Oh, shit” he says, looking at my back. “I'll help you, don't worry.”

“Do you have magical fingers?” I say with a nervous laugh. “Like fingers that can sew” I quickly add after seeing the smirk on his face.

“I do have magical fingers, and among other things, they can do this” Mason says, putting his hand on my back to make sure the dress doesn't open, the feeling making me gasp. 

“Thank you very much for your generosity, Miss” the auctioneer says, unaware of everything that is going on. “We hope you enjoy your time with Mr. Mount.”

“Thank you” I manage to say, my brain only being able to focus on Mason's hand on my back, on one of his fingers touching my skin. I'm pretty sure he can feel it burning.

“Now, onto our next bid!” he announces as we leave the stage, my dad already waiting for us. 

“What have you done, honey? £51,000! We don't have that money!”

“But I do, Martin. I asked her to bid for me” Mason explains. “Here, put this on” he says, taking off his jacket and putting it around my shoulders. “This should help cover the back of your dress.”

“Thank you” I mutter, missing the feeling of his hand and especially that one finger on my back. Though it doesn't last long. He is so close to me while helping me with his jacket, that I can smell his perfume all around me, and it smells so good… 

“What do you mean you asked her to bid for you?” my dad asks, completely ignoring that I may be melting.

“I didn't want one of those women to win. I don't trust them, to be honest” he chuckles. “And this is for charity, isn't it? It should not matter if the money comes from me or them.”

“I guess, yes. But…”

“Martin? We need you” someone says behind my dad.

“Yes, of course” he tells them. “We'll continue this conversation later” he says, looking first at Mason and then at me. 

“That went well” he chuckles as we watch my dad walk away.

“Did it?”

“It did. They now have £51,000 they will definitely put to good use, I am free from that woman, and you just got yourself a personal experience with Mason Mount” he smiles.

“Hasn't all this been an experience already?”  

“It definitely has, yes” he chuckles. “But the one I'm offering you will be more enjoyable. We could go shopping for ugly and very expensive clothes” he says with a teasing smile.

“I could actually do with a new dress seeing that this one… Well. It has seen better days.” 

“You look beautiful, tho.”

“Thank you” I mutter, looking down and starting to play with one of the buttons on his jacket to hide that my face is about to burst into flames. “Sorry about what I said earlier, by the way.”

“About what?”

“About calling you a twat.”

“I called myself a twat, you didn't. And if someone has to apologize, that should be me for not telling you who I really was.”

“I guess...”

“I think this makes it a tie in the apologies department. Don't you agree… honey?”

“I beg your pardon?” I say, finally daring to look him in the face.

“Ok, ok. Forget that I said that” he laughs. “The look you just gave me is scary as hell.”

“You deserve it. That is my dad's nickname, and no one else can use it. Sometimes not even him.” Like tonight, for example.

“I'm sorry. I truly am” Mason says, getting serious. “I just thought it was really cute.”

“When you are a kid, maybe. But I'm not five anymore.”

“I'm sorry” he says again. “I guess I'll have to think of a good nickname for our date. Something that doesn't sound too childish and that…”

“Wait, wait, wait” I interrupt him. “Our date?”

“Or personal experience, call it what you want” he shrugs.

“Are we actually doing it?”

“Of course we are. You paid for it, didn't you?”

“You paid for it” I correct him.

“Small details” he replies. “But you and I are going on a date, and I promise you it is gonna be an experience you won't forget” Mason says, taking my hand on his and kissing it, the way he is looking at me when he does it, plus the smile on his face (dimple included) and the feeling of his lips on my skin, making me feel things I can't explain.

I'm going out on a date with Mason Mount. The Mason Mount. A freaking football star.

And oh... my God.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Authors note: I know some of you may now be like, I need a part 2, I need to know what do they do on that date! 😅 But I've run out of ideas, so if you can think of something they could do or where they could go, let me know and I'll try to write something. Though I can't promise anything.

[adobealmanac]

How I was taught to cleanse with fire

Many cultures around the world use smoke and fire for cleansing and purification rituals. New Mexico is not different in that manner, as often I see curanderos (and spiritual leaning Catholics) burning a variety of herbs, woods, and resins to cleanse themselves and their spaces. Sometimes we even use mezcal to cleanse by spraying it from our mouths. While not necessarily ‘fire’, it does have that flame element to it. Spraying mezcal from the mouth is often done to cleanse the body or mind of someone, rather than a space.

I grow a variety of herbs on my property and I often find myself inclined to use them over store bought bundles or incense as it feels more traditional, and connects me to the earth and to my ancestors. My grandma taught me how to burn desert sage to purify a space, which is one of my favorites to use spiritually for cleansing. It brings an energy of healing and calmness when you burn it, and also works great for purification. I think of it as the lavender of sages due to its warm hug-like energy it brings.

To begin cleansing with desert sage, you first must hold the sage in your hands, and close your eyes. Envision happiness, and warmth, and hugging your own abuelita. Think about the warm yellow energy of the desert sage and how it brings that feeling of walking through a winter landscape knowing that you will be home soon. Enjoy the feeling and scent of the unburnt sage. Once you feel ready to begin, open your eyes, and take one deep breath in and out. Now, you must open the front door of the place you are cleansing, and optionally more windows if the space is large enough. The thick adobe of my grandmothers house wouldn’t allow any spirits to leave if you didn’t allow them to exit somehow. Begin by walking around the space with the unlit sage, feeling the energies of the space and finding spots that you need to focus on. Once you have identified the dense spots, you can light the sage. I always light the largest end of the desert sage bundle as I find it is the easiest to work with, allowing you to hold it by the smaller portion. Allow a large ember to form, about the size of a dime. Then, while walking through the space blow on the ember allowing the smoke to fill the direction you are blowing into, as this brings life and soul into the sage you burn. While doing this be intently focused on removing ‘anything bad’ as my grandmother would say. Be sure to blow the smoke into each of the four corners of your house too, to fortify and protect your space. I usually include the outdoor corners too, if the weather is calm enough outside to allow my sage to burn. Once you have hit all of the dense spots with your smoke, place the desert sage into a cooking pot in the kitchen or living room until it ceases to burn. This allows the smoke to do any remaining work it needs to. Once complete, thank the spirit of the sage by holding it again in your hands, giving it a sort of hug, and verbally thanking it. You may leave an offering at the bush you collected it from if you harvested the sage itself, otherwise you could also leave the offering near your favorite plant, I suppose. Once complete store your sage respectfully until the next time you need to purify your space.

Allow the front door and any open windows to remain open for at least 30 minutes after the final ember went out. Remember to always practice fire safety and never leave a sage bundle burning unattended.

If desert sage does not grow near you, look into if it would be able to successfully grow in your plant hardiness zone. If not look into using a native sage variety that grows in your area! In my opinion it is always best to use herbs that are from the region you live in over imported ones any day. And of course, do your best, because no one is perfect. If store bought is all that is available to you then use it! Or, if you already have a store bought herb bundle go ahead and use that. Be resourceful, and stay safe out there!

[listentoace]

This will freak you out

... or at least I hope it does. Yes, I know most of the stuff I post on here is just kinky and horny talk and that's totally fine. By now, thousands of users have found their way to my blog and I'm very grateful for the support. I know I don't share much about myself, but the following will be about a more personal matter. I work in IT, or more specifically, with data. Lots of data. Being into data science, I am hyper-aware of the constant collecting and aggregating of user data. I know it's somewhat common knowledge that you're being tracked, but I want to take this opportunity to point out how bad the situation is and why privacy matters. I'll try to keep it as easy to follow as possible, so please bare with me!

The Trackers

Right now, you're on Tumblr. As you are reading this, your app connects to over a dozen servers that are not from Tumblr itself. They are from companies like Google, Amazon, Yahoo, but also lesser known companies such as Adjust and Moat. Within a single day, the Tumblr App sends about 5.000 tracking requests to the aforementioned and more companies, sharing your personal data. That's once every 15-20 seconds, regardless of whether you have the app opened or not. While I can't say exactly what data is being shared, it is likely that this is personal information that can be utilized to assume your opinions, target ads, or predict future behavior, as these are ways how companies will ultimately make money. Depending on what permissions you have granted the Tumblr app, it might also scan your gallery, your entire file system, access your call history, or your camera and microphone. By granting this permission, you are essentially giving Tumblr the keys to your phone on a complete "just trust me, bro"-basis. To me personally, that sounds scary.

But why do you use Tumblr yourself, then?

Very good and fair question! I actually am conflicted regarding using Tumblr, but I have put several security measures into place to minimize tracking potential as much as possible. While Tumblr can still see when I go online, read all the messages I send to others, know what content I view, like, comment on, and otherwise engage with, that is about it. Tumblr cannot acces my general file system, it cannot remotely access my camera and microphone, and even all the aforementioned trackers are blocked. I'll go more into this later.

"So what, I've got nothing to hide."

It's great that you think that! That's just what the big tech companies want you to believe. But answer me this: have you ever found it uncomfortable when a person next to you was reading all your texts, looking at your gallery, and just generally kept an eye on what you do on your phone at all times? Well, if a single person doing that is bothering you, how much worse must it be to know that several companies with thousands of employees spy on you for a living? Yes, they have seen your nudes, your breakup texts, your hours of Whatsapp calls with your best friend. It's literally a Big Brother Dystopia.

"Why would they be interested in me?"

I bet you have heard about the Cambridge Analytica (CA) scandal from 2018. Just to summarize: a data analytics company CA worked closely together with Facebook to target adds specifically tailored to users to manipulate them into voting for Donald Trump as President. If you are asking how specific this could be, just look at this demonstration by Signal, where their ads are extremely specific to a point where probably only a few thousand if not only hundreds of people would fit the description and just those exact people saw their ad.

"You got this ad because you're a newlywed pilates instructor and you're cartoon crazy. This ad used your location to see you're in La Jolla. You're into parenting blogs and thinking about LGBTQ adoption."

Facebook took it down within hours. But imagine you seeing this ad of a random company knowing this much and lots more about you. Note that Instagram and WhatsApp belong to Facebook/Meta, so even if you're not using Facebook directly, you're still being watched just as closely.

Knowing exactly what you like, dislike, fear, and love, strong emotions can be triggered for political or financial gain. You're into sustainability? Buy this product and we will retrieve one pound of plastic from the ocean! You are conservative and maybe slightly racist? Immigrants are taking over more and more healthcare jobs! You are scared by a possible nuclear war? Vote us for safety and peace!

This is how Cambridge Analytica managed to pull in millions of voters in the US and manipulate the election in a way that Donald Trump wouldn't have won without their manipulation. This is literally a threat to democracy. And as you know, my allegiance is to the Republic, to Democracy!

You might be aware of how right-wing and extremist parties all around the western world use very polarizing and emotional topics in their campaigns and are doing very well on social media. Often much better than more centered, leftist, or conservative parties, who tend to polarize less. This is not a coincidence. Not only is this because of customized, targeted content, but it's also because strong emotions generate more attention

Doom Scrolling & Dopamine

Social Media has had decades to perfect their dopamine lottery. The algorithms know exactly what you are into, no matter how much of a niche it might be. A good, user-oriented algorithm would show you a few posts, the best ones of the day, and then simply say "well, that's been all the good stuff. Wanna see the rest anyways?". But that's not how it works, is it? When opening an app like Instagram, TikTok, Tumblr, etc., you usually immediately land on a recent top-post. This is to give you the instant gratification and that sweet hit of dopamine.

Have you ever noticed how you had to scroll a bit before you got a post again that you really loved? That's by design. The mix of top-posts and mediocre ones is on purpose, to keep you waiting for more. You never know when the next super funny TikTok will come by. All you know is that it might be the next one. In-between top-posts, you're met with mediocre garbage and an add or two and just before it gets too boring, you hit gold again. The constant release of much higher than normal amounts of dopamine make your brain temporarily lose touch with what levels are normal. Why is it that you feel drained and tired after scrolling through social media for a few hours, even though you've done nothing but sitting around? You didn't think hard, you didn't move much, so what is it? It is the dopamine-rollercoaster that is mentally straining you. And there are tens of thousands of highly trained software engineers and corporate executives designing their platforms to keep you scrolling for as long as possible. If that little chiming sound increases your screen time by as little as 2%, it will be added. It is designed to suck your life away, chain your eyeballs to the content they want you to see, just so they can literally sell you to anyone who has the cash. You need that new gadget, visiting this country is an absolute must, this new sports competition is amazing, definitely vote for this cool party. Trust them. They know what you want. You don't know anything about them, but they know everything about you.

"What do I do now?"

Well, it is unlikely that you'll stop using social media at all. I mean, even I am still here. But there are things you can and should do for your mental and financial health, and for your own safety and protection against manipulation. Here is a list of things you should consider

Limiting social media to only a few apps you actually use and are interested in

Spend no more than 2 hours on social media per day

Meet friends irl instead of only texting

Stop sharing personal information. It is not illegal to enter false names, birthdays, etc into random sign-up forms! Protect your children as well!

Use privacy- & user-oriented platforms, such as Signal instead of WhatsApp, or Mastodon instead of Twitter. They finance themselves through volunteers and donations instead of by selling your data and lifetime to any buyer

Use privacy-oriented frontends (the visual interface and application you interact with), such as NewPipe or FreeTube instead of YouTube. You also won't be seeing any ads there

Don't buy anything impulsively. Take a week or two to think about whether you really need and want it.

Check facts, do your own research, use multiple sources, be critical

And in case you're interested in what I use:

I'm have an Android phone running /e/OS and a total of 5 computers/servers which run Linux and a Windows laptop for work. My phone block any trackers, fakes my GPS location (not VPN/IP) to where I am in Barcelona. All devices have a 24/7 encrypted VPN connection. I don't have WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, or even a Google account. For personal use I have Signal, Element (Discord alternative), and Proton Mail. That's it. Every website or platform I have an account on has it's own, unique, single-use email, a randomized password and 2FA whenever possible. I use KeePass as my password manager, encrypted with a password, key file, and hardware key. I enter false data into any random form, use hardened Firefox browsers to resist fingerprinting and tracking, and back up all my data at home on a hard drive instead of using a cloud service. (Yes, there is much more)

For my content, I use Tumblr and a semi-active Discord account, Reddit accounts are banned.

For my professional life, I am forced to use Microsoft Teams and Outlook, yet I only use those on my work computer & phone.

Privacy = Freedom

Yes, I know my measures are far beyond average, but I wanted to present an example and hopefully inspire some of you to take back your online freedom and privacy! Because that's what it is! Privacy is Freedom!

I hope this inspired you and please ask any questions in the comments! This truly is a topic that means a lot to me so thank you for reading all the way through it. Please reblog to further share this important topic and encourage others to protect themselves!

- Ace

[eocon-fr]

In the head of Esteban Ocon, F1 driver : « At 130 km/h, I have the impression to be able of walking next to the car »

ᯓ Translation of the article “Dans la tête d’Esteban Ocon, pilote de F 1 : « A 130 km/h, j’ai l’impression de pouvoir marcher à côté de la voiture »„ by Éric Michel and Christophe Lacaze-Eslous for Le Parisien. The article is protected by a paywall.

Preparation of the car

"I am completely involved in its development. For me, improving the car is an obsession. Sometimes, I wake up at night with an idea, I write it down and send it straight to the engineers, in case it could help. I tell myself that they must have already thought of it, but in 20 to 30% of the ideas, this was not the case. So, it helps"

The week before the race

"I disconnect less and less. You have to stay 100% involved in the thing. I go to England one or two days a week (to Enstone in the Alpine factory) to see the engineers. Sometimes we leave directly from there to go to the Grands Prix. Otherwise, I work on my personal training. I do recovery, mass gain, cardio, and also visual detection. Even outside the race, these are long days that last from 9:30 a.m. to 6-7 p.m. But I'm happy about it, when I left the circuit, in 2018 and 2019 (he was a test driver for Mercedes), I worked in the cave and I no longer had access to F1. I missed it."

On the starting grid

“Before the lights turn green, I don’t necessarily feel a thrill. It’s more in my mind, a question of adrenaline. It’s always there, even after all this time, every time. After all the preparation before the race and the concentration it requires afterwards, the start is a bit of a lull. I look to the right: Ah, Max Verstappen! I look to the left behind my mirror: Hou là, Fernando Alonso! In front: Waouh, Lewis Hamilton! There are some great guys around me.”

His driver friends

“I realize how lucky I am to be one of the 20 F1 drivers in the world. That’s why I always have a smile on my face. We all respect each other. We’ve all known each other since we were very young. I drove with Pierre (Gasly), Charles (Leclerc), Max (Verstappen), Lando (Norris) when I was young… We have a lot in common, pretty much the same lives. I always said to my childhood friends: If one day you see me change and become like certain athletes — I won’t name any names — I’d like to take one, so that it wakes me up and puts my brain back in place.”

The madness of the start

“Getting a good start means getting out well. It’s the crucial moment, that’s when the most things happen. Sometimes I have a bad feeling. I feel like a guy is going to hit me from behind. You can’t be sure that everything is going to go well, never. It’s so grouped, someone can block the wheels. On the other hand, once it has happened and it has gone well, after that it’s smooth sailing.”

Peaks at over 300 km/h

“People talk a lot about the very high speed (300 km/h) and the tunnel vision effect, in other words the loss of peripheral vision. This is not true at all. In Mexico, for example, we reach speeds of 370 km/h. Despite this astonishing speed, we can still see people on the left, on the right, in the stands. Even when I started, I don’t remember this effect. When I was 6 or 7 years old, while driving on the track, at 90 km/h in a kart, I saw a very beautiful flower on each lap. One day, I stopped. Hop! I picked it and then brought it back to my mother!”

Maximum concentration

“During the race, you don’t have time to think about anything else: neither your worries nor your joys outside of F1, your loved ones, your family. Nothing! You have to be 100% focused. If you start to scatter your mind, it’s because you’re starting to see things blurry. That means you no longer have control over your heart rate and as a result, you lose energy. At that point, there’s a big problem and you start to lose concentration, and losing concentration means danger.”

Always measure the danger

"I'm not saying that fear isn't present. Above all, we must never forget that F1 is a risky sport. But if you're too afraid in F1, it's better to stop, it means that you don't know your subject inside out. You're no longer able to control it. I've already had situations where I was at fault and it hurts.

However, distrust always helps me think before taking action. I ask myself: Is it worth trying this or that maneuver? What's to be gained compared to the danger it represents? When a car is in front of me and I can overtake it, I wonder if it's worth it. I constantly ask myself: Isn't there a wall next to it?"

On the road, like the average Joe

"The road you drive on every day and an F1 circuit have nothing in common. On a circuit, we have marshals, guys at every bend who watch out for, for example, an animal crossing. If one of us has left oil on the lap before, there is an immediate yellow flag. On the road, there is no one to warn us of danger.

Even if it goes slower, you have to be very careful. I am of course. I respect the traffic laws by having the chance to drive cars that are very nice with great performance. I just have to get used to it again. At 130 km/h on the freeway, I feel like I can open the door, get out, and walk alongside."

World champion one day

"That's of course my goal. It's not that it's in my head, it's an obsession. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to go to F1. Now that I'm here, I want to win. I've always been a very bad loser. There's no way I'm leaving F1 with regrets. I'm putting all the chances on my side and all the cards are in my hands."

A life as a driver

“Between races, I have time to watch movies and listen to music while traveling. I’m a big Marvel fan. But I don’t really have a normal life, I know that. I dedicate all my time to what I do, about three hundred days a year. It’s hard for people, my girlfriend, my family, we don’t see each other often. I still have a home, but I don’t spend much time there.

I miss things, friends’ birthdays, dinners with my grandparents, but it’s a lifestyle choice. I worked hard to get here. I can’t complain about having a different life. It’s great that I can live my passion, travel and see different countries, meet passionate people.”

[redditpinterest]

gold rush | cole walter

cole walter x female mc

summary: gracie has never been in love. she thinks. though, the enigmatic cole walter seems to have invaded her thoughts and infected her in every sense. she's completely enamored. too bad every other girl is too.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: i thought we could have a little haley james tutor moment and it was so much fun to write

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When we are little, our mothers always tell us to never stare at the sun. That the brightness is too much for our delicate irises. It's hard to imagine that something so essential to our lives can be just as harmful. We count on the sun to rise, as much as we count on it to set. It's a constant in our lives, the kind of thing that feels comforting because you know that no matter what, it will never leave.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

I startle as the bell pulls me from my thoughts, the ramblings of my calculus teacher going in one ear and out the other. Truly, I try to pay attention in class. But it's hard when he's sitting right there, not knowing. Not knowing that I would do anything to have the privilege of loving him.

I've always wondered what it must be like to grow up that beautiful. With the kind of hair that falls into place like dominoes and the kind of eyes that captivate a room. I've never been anything special. Not like Cole Walter. He's enigmatic, pulling everyone in and willing us to look in his direction.

Standing from my desk, I take my books into my arms and beeline for the lockers. I've got work after school, and we just got a new shipment in, meaning I get to spend my time reading the backs of the covers and creating a mental tbr. I force myself to forget Cole, hating how much of my thoughts he seems to consume when he barely knows my name.

Sure, we've been in class together since grade-school, but he's always hung around Dylan and Erin. Never me, not that I've even tried to be his friend. I'm not good at that kind of stuff. I much prefer to keep to myself, silently admiring him, because it's comfortable. He'll never know how much he consumes me, but that's okay. He doesn't need to. My crush on Cole Walter is as steady as the sun that rises each day. The sun never thinks about me, it just simply exists, and the rest of us revolve around it.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The next week, my calculus teacher asks me to stay after class. To be completely honest, I was confused, since I was doing well in his class. I had even aced the last test.

"Gracie, I wanted to ask you a favor. I have a student who is really struggling in this class and I think that he would greatly benefit from your insights. Of course, you would get volunteer hours, but I was wondering if you could offer your time to tutor him?"

My brows furrow, Mr. Henry leaning against his desk, his arms crossed in front of him. I've tutored kids before, but it was always through the tutoring center at school. A teacher has never explicitly asked me to tutor one kid in one subject.

I don't really have the time, working at the bookstore, being on the volleyball team, and balancing my other courses. But I would hate to let Mr. Henry down, since he's one of my favorite teachers. And the people-pleaser in me can rarely find myself saying no. Which is why I nod, holding tightly onto the straps of my backpack.

"Yeah, of course. I'm free seventh period, so if you could just send him to the tutoring center then, that would be great."

Mr. Henry looks relieved, sending me a smile of approval.

"Perfect, thank you so much Gracie."

"Mhm." I nod as I begin to leave the classroom, "See ya, Mr. Henry."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

I feel like a little kid again, like at any moment I'm going to be scolded for looking at the sun for too long. But it's kind of hard not to stare when none other than Cole Walter walked into the tutoring center.

He's holding a green slip of paper, his blond hair gracefully falling into place. A simple grey t-shirt clings to his torso, his tanned arms seeming to shine as if he wasn't even from this world. A smirk adorns his lips, as his eyes connect with mine. I swear I feel my heart stutter in my chest.

"Gracie?" He lifts the paper in my direction.

I don't know if I can do this. I don't want him to be real. I'm perfectly fine with him being a figment of my imagination, a projection of my personal life. He didn't know me. He didn't need to. We would graduate and my silly crush on Cole Walter would disappear as if it were a hummingbird in the spring. There one minute, gone the next. And I was okay with that. He was never supposed to be permanent. But I'm afraid that if I get to know him, one of two things will happen.

He is nothing like my brain has projected onto him, and this daydream of mine is inevitably ruined.

This crush of mine becomes something so permanent that I fear I will never be able to scrub it from my brain.

Either one sounds like hell.

I realize that I haven't responded yet, and Cole is giving me an odd look that I can't quite decipher.

"Oh yeah, hi." I scramble to say, standing up from the table and holding my hand out like an idiot.

Cole's eyes glance down at my hand before bouncing back up to my face. Reluctantly his palm slides against mine and he gives it a good shake before pulling away with a laugh.

"So formal."

He pulls the chair out next to mine, throwing his body into it and leaning over to reach into his backpack.

"Sorry." My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I sit back down.

His scent immediately intoxicates me, and I can't tell if it's cologne or just him. The woodsy notes fill my senses and I can't help but wonder if he knows how enamored everyone is by Cole Walter.

"So, Mr. Henry seems to think that I need some help with calculus. Can you help me, Gracie?"

I give him a soft smile, not daring to look him in the eyes. They're the most inviting waters, though I would hate to feel like a sinking ship.

"I suppose I could, Cole."

He pulls his last test out of his folder, sliding it in my direction for me to look it over.

"Do you tutor a lot?"

I hate the way that his voice fills me, making my whole body flush just from his proximity.

"Um, not as much anymore. I'm kind of busy recently."

My eyes scan over the pages of his test as I nervously tap my fingers against the fabric of my jeans. In all honesty, Cole has a pretty good grasp of the concepts, he just struggles with using them.

Cole's silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Hm. Busy with what?"

I ignore his question, finally pulling my eyes up to look at him.

"I think this is fixable. You're not bad at calculus, Cole. We just need to work on applying the stuff you already know."

I don't want Cole to know things about me because I don't want him to become real. The more distance I keep, the more comfortable I am. There nothing I would hate more than for him to realize that I'm just as obsessed with him as every other girl. It's pathetic, really, the way that he just pulls me in without even knowing.

But I don't want a gold rush. I want something real, tangible. Cole Walter is nothing more than the kind of hope that humans hold on to. It's too good to be true, and I would much rather be looking at it from a distance than get to close and realize that it's all been a lie that I've been telling myself.

Cole seems a little caught off guard with my deflection, his eyes flicking between mine as if deciding whether to call me out for it. He doesn't, going along with me instead.

"Sure. Teach me the art of integrals, Gracie."

I work with Cole on correcting his test for the next hour, determined to focus on something that makes sense to me. Calculus. When the hour hand of the clock reaches three, I write down a list of practice problems for Cole to work on at home.

"Alright, these are for you to work on, and we'll go over them at our next session, okay?"

I start to put my textbook into my bag, standing to leave.

"Okay," Cole draws out, still sitting at the table.

He looks like heaven sitting there, the evening light hitting his skin in an angelic way. It seems as if even the sun herself can't resist Cole Walter.

"Okay." I breath out, giving him a curt nod before leaving the room.

I feel as if I can finally breath again as I step into the parking lot, allowing the fresh air to fill my lungs and clear my head. Heading toward my green Jeep, I halt when I hear someone call my name. I turn around, hand pausing on the handle of the driver's door.

Cole is walking in my direction and I think for a moment that I forgot something at the table. When he reaches me, he leans his arm against the hood of my car, taking a moment to admire my biggest pride.

"Nice car." He gives me a smile that allows dimples to form at his cheeks, and there's something so human about it that it makes me dizzy.

"Thanks."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and I turn my head to scan around the parking lot, confused.

"Did you need something?"

I probably sound like a bitch, but I have work at 3:30 and I don't want Mary to be upset with me.

"Oh, uh yeah. I can't do seventh period for our next tutoring session. Taking my sister to her football practice."

"Oh. Well I have volleyball in the morning and work after school- I can't really do any other time."

"You could come to my house after work?"

The question catches me so off guard that I swear I almost start to violently cough.

"I couldn't- I get off pretty late and I don't want to make you wait for me. We could just wait until next week."

Cole seems amused at my rambling, tilting his head while my eyes fight to look anywhere else but him.

"Nah, it's cool if you're okay with it. I really want to do good in calc. Here, give me your phone."

He holds his hand out and I don't even hesitate before putting the cream phone case into his palm. Cole adds his number to my phone, texting himself to set it up.

"Okay, just text me when you get off and I'll send you my address. See you tomorrow, tutor girl."

I feel like my body is frozen in place as he backs away, waving at me before getting into his truck.

Cole Walter just put his number in my phone. My. Phone. What the fuck.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

I think that my favorite thing about the sun is that it holds our entire solar system together. Its gravity is so magnetic that it keeps all of the planets orbiting around it in a constant rhythm.

It provides all possibility of life for us, while not harboring any of its own.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The next day, I feel like my shift at the bookstore lasts a million years. Time moves slowly, inching by as I dread going to Cole's house. Like I said, I don't like that he's becoming real. And even worse, I hate that I almost like him more now that I've been around him. This is absolutely dreadful.

I hold my chin in my hand as I watch the minutes tick by, my body shielded by the register. Today's been pretty slow, though I did see a new paperback release from Emily Henry that has me wanting to buy it immediately. When it reaches 7:30, Mary wanders to the front, letting me off. My stomach drops with butterflies when the reality of seeing Cole Walter's life outside of school settles in. It feels wrong, in a way.

Reluctantly, I type out a message to Cole, praying that he remembered the fact that we were supposed to meet after I got off work.

Gracie: hey, it's gracie! i just got off work if we're still good for tutoring

Cole wastes no time sending me his address, about ten minutes away.

Cole: See ya soon, tutor girl ;)

I ignore the way that heat flushes my cheeks from his text and drive to his house, admiring the way that the sunset paints the sky with the final light of the day.

When I pull up to the ranch house, the pale yellow home seems to tell a story. The final streaks of light disappear beyond the tops of the aspen trees, and the moon peeks over the horizon. I text Cole to let him know that I'm here before grabbing my backpack and closing the door of my Jeep.

Cole meets me at the front door, swinging it open as I walk up the porch steps, the dark wood creaking beneath me. He flashes me a smile and I notice his eyes scan me up and down before settling on my face. I'm wearing a pair of baggy low rise jeans with a simple black tank top, a white pair of sneakers on my feet. My hair is in waves, the dark hair cascading to the middle of my back.

My lips lift softly in his direction, as he leans against the doorframe. He adorns a worn broncos shirt and a pair of grey sweats, looking so effortlessly beautiful. My hands clutch onto the straps of my bag as I stand in front of him, needing something to release the pent up nerves.

"Hey." I rock uncomfortably on my heels.

"Hey," he nods his head toward the house, "here, come on in."

I follow him inside, kicking off my shoes at the entrance before glancing around in the house. Warm wood encases the surfaces, the walls covered in photos and artwork. My home is nothing like this, almost sterile in comparison.

I hate how much more real it makes him feel.

Cole heads up the stair case and I follow, my eyes scanning each image, trying to understand how a family could have this many photos. He waits at the top, watching as I pause on a couple of the pictures, admiring the large smiles that grace the Walter boys as they grow.

"There's so many." I breath out at the top of the staircase, Cole twisting the handle of his door.

"Yeah, we get that a lot." Cole laughs.

"No I mean, there's so many pictures. I think my mom maybe has five pictures of me as a baby."

Cole gives me an odd look, and I realize that I just told him something real about me. It's something that I didn't realize was that weird until I started visiting my friend's houses growing up. That the parents saw their kids as their biggest accomplishments, rather than a burden to take care of until I move out. Though, I've never known anything different, so I don't think it really bothers me.

"Anyway," I work to change the subject, resting my backpack against the corner of his bed frame, "did you finish those problems?"

He doesn't say anything for a second, before internally shaking himself out of it and clearing his throat.

"Yeah, all except one. I didn't know where to start."

I nod, placing my textbook on the floor next to his bed and sliding myself to a sitting position, knees pulled to my chest.

"How was work?" Cole asks, handing me his problem sheet before laying on top of the bed, head close to mine.

"Slow. But we got in a new book I really want to read so that's fun."

Cole's head is next to mine as we both scan his paper, and I give him corrections as well as a starting point for the problem he was confused on. His proximity has my chest tightening, my whole body feeling like it's in fight or flight mode. I can feel his breath warm against me, his heat radiating like a phone you've been using too long.

I play with my fingernails as Cole works on the problem. It's so weird being in his room, seeing the posters he hung up as memories of his childhood. His fascinations and all the little things that make Cole Walter, Cole Walter.

"Done." I startle at his voice and the feeling of his arm as it brushes against my shoulder to hand me the paper.

My eyes catch on a bookshelf, filled with worn paperbacks.

"You like to read?"

I turn my head to catch Cole's eyes, and he's a lot closer than I expected, our faces merely inches apart.

"Yeah. Mostly just the shit that my dad buys for me at garage sales, though. Bet that's pretty funny since I'm kind of shit at school, huh, tutor girl."

I roll my eyes playfully, a smile involuntarily taking over my face.

"Okay, first of all, you're not shit as school, Cole. And second of all, stop calling me that."

"Or what?" His voice drops, shivers covering my spine.

I gulp, my mind racing to convince myself that this isn't real. It's another daydream that will disappear as soon as I wake myself up. Cole's too close, and he's looking at me in a way that I can't understand.

Gold rush, I remind myself. He's not real.

"How have we never talked before, Gracie?" His eyes don't leave mine.

The Sun, being a dynamic star, is constantly changing. At least, that's what NASA says. And I believe them for the most part. For so long, Cole has been this comfortable force in my life, something just out of reach, but always there. As much as I never want that to change, I can't help but think that this is worth the risk. Because just as the Sun, we are also constantly changing.

Cole is propped up by his elbow, his chest in my direction. His scent, as always, is intoxicating and now I'm certain that it's just him.

"I don't know. I guess I've always been too nervous." I confess.

"That's such bullshit. You're like a billion times more interesting than me."

"Cole. You have no idea the effect you have on people." I breath out, blinking slowly as he scans over my face.

Cole's head dips slightly, and he's suddenly close enough that if I were to lean slightly, we would be kissing. His hand reaches to my cheek, my breath catching at the soft touch.

"Gracie." He whispers.

All I can do is nod, answering the question he seemed to be asking.

He brushes his lips against mine, softly, before leaning in fully. And it doesn't feel quite real, that Cole Walter is kissing me. Eighteen years of life, eight of them spent consumed by him when I was so sure he didn't even know I existed. I'd dated, but Cole was always there, a place in my mind just for him.

My eyes flutter shut as I lean into his touch, our lips molded together in a dance. He increases the pressure, tilting my head back with his thumb against my jaw. Cole's tongue teases my lips, and they part to allow him access as he moans softly against my mouth.

I'd never felt like this before, not even with my ex-boyfriend who I had dated for two years. This felt electric, something so overwhelming that my whole body was on fire.

I pull away slightly, needing to remember that it's not real. When Cole goes to kiss me again, I tilt my head toward the floor.

"I- um. I should get going. I'll send you the practice test for the exam next week, okay?"

I stand up and swing my backpack over my shoulder, stepping toward his door and swinging it open.

Part of me feels bad, but I don't want to be another girl on Cole's roster. It's just another crack breaking through the delusion that I've been convincing myself of for years.

Cole's eyes are soft on mine when I raise my head to look at him again.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, I'll see you around, Cole."

I walk out, trying to keep my head held up until I climb inside my car. My forehead rests against the steering wheel as inevitable tears escape me.

It's best to let him go. I would hate to fall for him, only to be crushed when I reach reality. Because falling is magical until that final bone crush, when everything hits at once.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 30

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Well, you are not handled to deal with this, you are the god of chaos not the god of talking about your feelings... you could just ignore it and wait for Hotguy to get himself together on his own...on the other hand you don't really want to do that because it doesn't take much to know It won't work and you don't want to risk him getting worse. You even brought chocolate for him, you hear it makes mortals feel happy.

As you walk towards Hotguy's...room? You aren't sure actually, does he just live in the Hero association tower? That's...weird right?...Doesn't matter, as you make your way towards the door you see a scientist looking man knocking on the door.

The man turns, oh that's Scar's manager, you saw him on your inuguration.

"Cub Fan, right?"

"And you must be Cuteguy?"

"Just call me Grian"

"Grian it is them, call me Cub then"

...

"So, why are you here Cub?"

"Checking in on Hotguy since he's not going to take what happened lightly... You?"

"Same... brought chocolate."

"Looks like we had the same idea."

"We should go together then"

You suggest that mostlu because you are pretty sure those two are close so going in together might make this whole thing more likely to succeed.

"If Scar opens the door then...sure."

Right, the door to Scar's room is still locked. You knock on the door too... all that follows is more silence. Then some shuffling, then more, a crash of something smashing on the ground and then it finally opens... Scar's face emerges from the room.

"Uh... Grian? Cub? What are you two doing here?"

You answer before Cub gets the chance to...or tries to, he just lets you speak.

"Checking in on you, I know you wanted the inauguration thing to go well and... We even brought sweets."

"Oh! Well, there's no need for thar. I'm doing well! Great even"

You look inside, you look at the messy room and the darkbags under his eyes.

"Huh uh, are you sure?"

"Yep! Doing amazing! Bye!"

Cub puts his foot between the door and the frame stopping Scar from closing it completely.

"Scar, I've known you for years. You can't lie to me."

You add in your own comment.

"We have known eachother for a few days and even I can tell that was a lie."

Scar is silent for a few seconds and then kinda deflates into himself...like a baloon or one of those long colorful things that point at shops.

"... You're right, I'm not doing amazing...or great."

Oh wow, what a shocking revelation! Points for it taking so little for him to actually crack though.

"I just don't understand how it could have happened. I thought I made sure everything was perfect."

Well, except for knowing you were a god and were going to sabotage it using your son to help you, a rookie mistake really.

"I'm sorry Grian, I'm making this about myself but that was your inauguration and I'm moping... I can't even imagine how you feel."

Pretty good actually, you really want to say that but you do have a persona to keep up...uhmmm maybe...

"Well, I actually think it went well"

Cub and Scar both look at you in confusion, you can't blame them...it does sound crazy when said out loud doesn't it? Oh well.

"What? I just think that we showed everyone that I can hold my ground as a sidekick. That's going to do much more for public opinion then a speech."

Scar just blinks while Cub looks pensive.

"He's not exactly... wrong, the association managed to spin the Ocean Queen and Sheriff incident into good publicity I'm sure they are going to do the same for this."

Scar still looks dejected, why does he have to look so miserable? You are starting to feel bad about it, It's weird.

"...still feels like a failure."

Oh, so It's a self worth thing... You aren't good with that kind of stuff either, you are arguably even worse. Pearl would probably know what to say to him- wait, you have an idea.

"You know, you should probably go outside and take a breather, touch grass, feel the sun and all that...say, my ...sister and I are going out later. You could come along as Scar, I can introduce you as a new friend."

"I ... don't know..."

Cub, your saviour, is actually the one who encourages Scar to accept...he whispers something in Scar's ear and he brightens up a bit.

" Alright, I'll come."

"And Cub? Do you want to come with as well?"

"I can't. I have important work to do...but Scar can tell me how it goes when you come back"

That's a lie, very clearly, you don't point it out though. After all, you are a liar too, of much bigger proportions as well.

"Alright, well, I'll ask my sister then."

Dumbass: Pearl? Pearl: What do you want mate? Dumbass: are you doing anything later? Pearl: ... Pearl: Why? Dumbass: just answer Pearl: Yeah, I'm going to the mall with Scott and Cleo. Dumbass: I'm joining. Pearl: You can't just. Pearl: Join in without being invited. Dumbass: invite me? Pearl: Why do you even want to come with us? Dumbass: I told a friend I'm hanging out with you later. Dumbass: And invited him to come along. Pearl: ... Fine. Pearl: But you owe me one more explanation.

"...so?"

"She said you can come!"

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Vexed

Summary:(this ask) Hey, I absolutely adore your work. Could you write about like a burned out reader who doesn't feel like doing her work and needs encouragement? Been having a bad few months lately. <3

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: mentions of crying, tooth rotting fluff

masterlist | ask box(requests are open!)

“Fuck!” you wanted to yell that, but ended up saying it with a gritted face. Your co-worker Theo was passing by, and seemed vaguely interested in your misery.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? You look…tired?” he remarked.

“I am tired. So fucking tired” you slumped down in your seat, slowly sliding down more and more into it.

“You could take a break”

“Break? That’s what you’re suggesting? You know how many deadlines and pile-ups we have, right?” you raised your eyebrows, too annoyed at him already.

“I know that Y/n. I’m quite burnt out myself. But if you take a break, things will be a bit better.”

“I don’t have time for a fucking break, Theo” you put your right palm on your head, which was throbbing from stress.

"Look, I get that you're stressed, but you don't have to take it out on me. Maybe if you focused on the work instead of yelling at everyone, you wouldn't be in this mess."

“Oh thank you, Theo! I was so desperately in need of a lecture from you, aren’t I? Just go away!” you yelled again, and he got pissed off, and left.

You couldn’t stand being there anymore. The atmosphere was so frustrating. Everyone clammed up in a small space, running around, doing their work. It shouldn’t be frustrating per-se, but you were. You had been working without rest for the past 40 hours, and there were so many projects and reports lined up, you wanted to scream. And cry too, maybe?

Gathering up your stuff from your table, some files, your laptop and stationary, you decided you would do this at home. After you had had “a break”.

Driving to your house was miserable too, every signal seemed so much longer than it actually was. Every speeding car that made you slam your brakes hard made you want to get out of the car and yell and curse them. It was so vexing.

Pulling up to your house, you parked the car in the garage, and got out. You left your stuff in your car, deciding to take it out later when you actually felt like working.

You lived with your boyfriend, Harry. You had been in a relationship for more than a year, and had just moved in a few months ago.

Everything about him was great. He was so loving, you loved him so much. He took care of you, you cooked and baked together. After a long day of work for the both of you, he would be there for you, holding you and comforting you, telling you that everything will be alright.

You missed him so much. You wished he would come home early.

As soon as you entered, the dark house resembled the state of your mind, all blank and foggy, unclear with no idea where to go. You decided to take a shower and cry.

You walked to your shared  bedroom, stripping off your clothes one by one. As soon as you entered your bathroom, you threw everything away, opened your hair and turned the water on, standing below it.

As the water cascaded down, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. The day's challenges, the pressure, the relentless tide of responsibilities—it all spilled out in the form of silent sobs. Alone in the shower, you let the water wash away the stress, if only for a moment.

Tears streamed down your face, flowing away with the water into the drain. It all felt so meaningless in the moment. Your job, the never-ending work, the deadlines, the piled up spreadsheets, the tension, the stress. It was eating you alive.

Little did you know, Harry had come back soon too. He parked his range rover, and saw your car too. He became happy that you were home soon, and you would get to spend some more time together.

As soon as he reached the door, he found out that it wasn’t locked. He panicked, thinking that someone must have barged in.

“Y/N?” he screamed at the top of his voice, opening the door and locking it. Inside, all the lights were out, and it got more and more mysterious.

He yelled your name, searching for you in the kitchen, in the living room, in the backyard, everywhere. Finally, he climbed up the stairs and went to your bedroom.

There, he saw some of your clothes lying on the floor, and heard the shower. He quickly jogged, and barged in.

He saw you standing under the shower, cold water pouring down. Your back was turned to him, shoulders quivering with each silent sob.

You had had a bad day.

You turned around to look at him, and just stared at him for a second. You turned back around, trying to stop your crying.

“Lovie, you okay?” he asked in a very soft voice, already inside the shower and closing the door behind him.

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself. "Yeah, just needed a moment. It's been a day."

“Sure, love. Mind if I join?”

You nodded silently. You both knew how much you needed his presence, him, in this moment.

He quietly stripped down behind you, and walked in, closing the shower curtain.

As soon as he was near, you quickly turned around, hugging him. Your sobs and tears flew freely, without a care in the world. Harry held you tightly, rubbing your back, trying to calm you down.

"It's okay, lovie. It's all okay. Shh," he reassured, gently patting your back, allowing you to cry as much as needed. He was present now, and he wouldn't let you go through this alone.

After a few moments, your tears had stopped, and there were only sobs coming out of your mouth. You pulled yourself from his embrace, looking into his bright green eyes with swollen ones.

“I’m sorry, I’m too much sometimes” you tried to pull off of him, wanting to give him space if he wanted.

“No, please don’t say that. You’re never too much.”

“It’s just that-there’s so so much work, Harry. So much workload piled up, and I don’t want to do anything. I just want to burn everything away and sleep. “

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Understand? There’s no need to blame yourselves. You’re so good at your job. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.” He kissed your forehead gently, and you sheepishly smiled.

“Thank you, Harry. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, love. Now, how long have you been standing under this ice-cold water?”

“Long enough”

“Alright, let’s get out before we get sick”

He walked across the shower and brought you a warm, fluffy towel, softly wrapping it around you. You were shivering now, and he looked at you with disbelief.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to cool off.” You pouted cutely, and his frown immediately went away.

“Can’t get angry at my cute bunny, can I?”

You smiled, and you both walked out of the shower. He dried you off outside, picking up fresh pajamas to wear.

“Tell you what. I’ll bake you some cookies. With that new frosting we bought. And some coffee too?”

“No. Hot chocolate”

“Sure, love. You can find a movie for us to watch till I make you food.”

“But I want to be with you” you walked over to him, clinging to his body like a koala bear.

“Okay, love. You can sit on the island and I’ll feed you cookie dough.”

“And chocolates”

“And chocolates.”

“And kisses too?”

“So many kisses for you, my love”

a/n: to the anon who requested this, i hope you liked it. sorry for the daly, and i really hop you're alright, love! you can talk to me whenever you want

lovely divider by @cafekitsune

i hope you like this! please don't hate me

here's my ko-fi if you feel generous

requests and feedback is welcome and much appreciated!!

>>>

general taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888

let me know if you want to be added, removed

.

[sunny44]

Can I buy you a drink? Part 2

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Ex- best friend!reader

Warnings: crying, emotional conversation.

Summary: Y/n and Carlos finally realized that they are meant for each other.

Part 1

We were still outside but now he’s on my grandfather's chair and I’m sitting on his lap and snuggled into him leaving us covered because of the cold.

"What are we going to do from now on?"

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"About the two of us."

"I don't know, I don't want to jump in headfirst but I don't want to not be with you either."

"I understand, we don't need to rush things. I don't want anything to go wrong this time."

We sat there for a while until I started to close my eyes to go to sleep and woke up to Carlos letting out a laugh through his nose.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, let's go inside."

"But it's so good here." I said snuggling further into his lap and putting my face into his neck. "I don't want you to let me go."

"What do you say we go to your bed? You don't have to let me go and we won't get sick with cold." He whispers in my ear pulling my hair out of my face and I look up at him and kissed him before smiling.

"I think it's perfect." I stand up and so does he.

I was so tired that I almost hit the wall if it wasn't for him pulling my hand, from that moment on Carlos intertwined our fingers and guided us to my room where I went straight to bed and covered myself up to my head. Soon I felt the bed sink in and he hugged me from behind pulling me as close to him as possible.

"Thank you for letting me explain and for giving me a second chance." He murmurs in my ear.

"You're welcome." I whispered and fell asleep soon after.

...

The next day I woke up alone in bed and I knew this because I didn't feel his warmth. I sat up and after a few minutes I got up and got ready for another day.

When I went downstairs I could hear his voice talking to my father and I entered the kitchen seeing the two of them there while Carlos cooked something.

"Buenos dias mi hija." My father said and hugged me from the side kissing my forehead.

"Buenos dias." Carlos says and smiles when my powder is not looking.

"Buenos dias." I sit down on one of the little stools on the countertop. "What's that good smell?"

"Omelet, do you want one?" I agreed and he finished and handed it to me.

"You don't have to give me yours."

"It's okay, I'll make myself another one."

"Thanks."

"Well I'll leave you two alone." He winks at me and leaves.

"Does he know anything?"

"Maybe."

"Did you tell?"

"No, but I woke up to your mother coming into your room so she must have told him."

"Fuck."

"You didn't want them to know?" I could hear the sadness in his voice.

"It's not that, it's just that my parents are very excited about things and will think we're getting married tomorrow anyway." Having said that he laughs. "It's not funny."

"It is a little." He turns off the stove and comes to my side. "Just relax and let them think what they want."

"Okay." He kisses my forehead.

"Would it be so bad if we got married tomorrow?" I looked at him who was smiling at me.

"It wouldn't." He smiled just as I heard my mother shout.

"THEY'RE GETTING MARRIED."

She ran out to the backyard where apparently our families were and I looked at Carlos that was laughing.

"I get it now."

...

We were already back to our normal lives, I had returned to my home in Spain and Carlos was already back to his racing routine.

We were talking every day and decided that we would try something again and here we were.

He was at this very moment coming to my house and I was preparing some pasta for dinner.

I heard a soft knock on the door and when I went to the door I saw him smiling with a backpack on his back and a suitcase in his hand.

"Hey." He kisses me and enters my house.

"Hey. How was the trip?" I asked closing the door.

"It was great knowing I was going to see you as soon as I arrived." He slips his arms around my waist right after dropping his stuff on the couch.

"Gallant I see." He laughs.

"What's that good smell? "we start walking to the kitchen with him hugging me from behind.

"Well I thought you would be hungry when you arrived so I prepared some pasta for us."

"Wow, but it smells just like the one my mom makes it."

"Well." He gave me a quick look.

"Was it you she gave the recipe to?" He asks shocked and I just nod my head in agreement. "She never let me see the recipe for this pasta and I am her son."

"It's just that she passed it to me for a specific reason and that's the only reason I have it." I said low stirring the sauce wanting him not to ask any more questions.

"What's the reason?" That was the question I didn't want him to ask.

"I don't want to say." I feel his hands caress my waist.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like to remember."

"What do you mean?" I took a deep breath before telling him because I knew he wouldn't give up.

"Your mother knew about us." I said softly and immediately he turned me towards him but I was still looking at the floor.

"What do you mean she knew."

"At the time you left me for Isabel, she knew we were together or at least had something.

"Why didn't she ever tell me?"

"Because then you showed up with her and then she probably thought it was a spur of the moment thing."

"But what does that have to do with the recipe?"

"Because a few days earlier she told me that her mother had passed it on to her when she met your father, she said it was a special recipe to be made for the one you love the most so she passed it on to me." I wiped away a tear that had run down. "It was for me to make for you."

"Oh." That's the only thing he says.

"That's right." I said looking up. "I'm going to take a shower and lie down, you can make yourself comfortable and eat, it's all ready done."

"You're not going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry anymore." I said without looking at him and went to my room.

...

After crying in the shower and going to sleep I woke up the next day with a headache and I was alone in bed. I was worried that he had left because of my behavior last night but this fear passed as soon as I saw his things on the bedroom floor and the messy bed on the other side. I sat up in bed and saw that on my bedside table was a glass of water, a packet of headache medication, and a note.

I figured you would wake up with a headache so I left the water and medicine for you to take as soon as you woke up. I went out for my morning run.

Ps: hope you are feeling better and we'll talk when I get back.

Love you, chilly.

I smiled at the note and did as he said and got up to take my shower, do my skin care and then got dressed. As I was leaving the room I heard a noise at the door and figured he was back. I went into the living room and he was taking off his sneakers and leaving them on the doorstep.

"Good morning." I said and he smiled when he saw me.

"Good morning beautiful." He gave me a little kiss. "Did you sleep well?"

"More or less." He agrees.

"Well I'm going to take a quick shower and we can talk later if you like."

"I do." He smiles kissing me again and goes to my room.

I decided to buy breakfast instead of making it and after finishing the order it was just to wait.

He took about 10 minutes and came back wearing only shorts and wet hair and sat next to me on the couch.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"You don't have to apologize to me." He says running his hand over my face.

"Yes I do, you came all this way to stay with me and the first night I leave you alone."

"It's okay, you were upset and I understand." I agreed and he held my face with both hands. "I'm going to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you for what happened, okay? I'm really sorry and I'll prove it to you."

"It's okay." He smiles and gives me a kiss. "And I love you too, Chilly."

He laughs understanding the reference in the note.

"That's great to know." I laugh and the doorbell rings and I say it was breakfast. "And that pasta yesterday was better than my mom's, but don't tell her that.”

"I sure will." I said as I putting the food on the counter.

"No you won't." He said that and started running after me. "I got you."

"Let go of me." I said trying to get loose.

"Only if you promise not to tell."

"I won't promise anything." At that he starts to tickle me. "Carlos, stop."

"Promise."

"Okay, okay, I promise." At that he stops.

"I love you so much." I smile catching my breath.

"I love you too."

Tag list: @spicyclover @starsanova

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