#a mutually-assured attachment

[rapha3liii]

Some fun Sebastian sketches I spent way too much time on :')

I fully believe Seb wears a miku top to bed - its the only way!!

[cacoetheswriting]

a mutually assured attachment

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.9k summary: crossing the thin line between friendship and something more, but not before a few set backs.

warnings: set before tfatws, therapy positive, emotional hurt / comfort, mutual pinning, adult dialogue, use of pet names (sweets, darlin') mentions of food and alcohol consumption, a little bit of jealousy, friends to lovers, a conclusion to a lovely little slow burn

a/n: technically part of a mini-series, but can 100% be read as a standalone. also, unsure if anyone is still following this story, but i wanted to wrap it up ‘cause i really enjoyed starting this series all those months (years eek) ago. plus if anyone stumbles across it in the future, it will be complete! thank you for reading and for your support <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes did not think of himself as the jealous type.

Yes, he envied his fair share of individuals he encountered throughout his long life: the people who made life appear easy, those who seemed to have everything figured out, and everyone who took “mundane” for granted.

The regular Joe’s with their nine-to-five jobs, a random group of friends, and not a care past anything other than their stack of overdue bills or their fantasy football league (whatever the hell that was…). The average Jane’s who often reminded Bucky of his own mother, hoping to grow and nurture happy homes, full of sweetness and a load of laughter, desperately trying to shield everyone around them from pain and misery.

Envy, yes. Bucky was familiar with the feeling. Jealousy however… Well, jealousy was different.

Jealousy was usually a side effect of romance. It called for a connection stronger than Bucky allowed himself to form with the people he met ever since he became himself again. It involved trekking on dangerous territory and putting other people at risk, therefore no, James Buchanan Barnes was not the jealous type.

That is until he met you.

He’s learned to admit that you entered his life at a time he did not even realise he needed you most, turning it completely upside down (for the better) and providing him with a glimmer of hope that there was still good in this post-blip world.

He’s grown attached to you, opening up in more ways than one and sharing thoughts he hasn’t spoken about with anyone since Steve. Over time, you have easily grown to be his favourite person.

And now Bucky was sitting at the bar, picking at the label of the beer bottle in his grip while watching you toss your head back in laughter at something this random suit-wearing jerk was saying.

You disappeared for five minutes to go to the bathroom. Bucky thought nothing of it, even ordered you another drink while you were gone. But when you didn’t come back to your seat, stopping instead for a chat with a stranger, you unknowingly caused an unnerving feeling to rush through the brunette sergeant.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried hitting on you while you were out with Bucky, (and considering how jaw droppingly beautiful you were, he was actually quite surprised it didn’t happen more often). However, this was the first time you engaged back in the flirtatious interaction, which was more than unsettling to your blue-eyed neighbour. 

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off of the dude's face. Quite frankly, the only thing stopping him from doing so was the reason he wished to do it in the first place: you.

Fuck, Bucky cursed himself, this was jealousy.

Shifting in his seat so he wouldn’t have to witness you with that dunce, Bucky brought the beer bottle to his lips and, in one sip, finished what was left of his drink. He then paid the tab and was about to stand when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“Sorry about that,” you said and he forced a smile.

“No need, darlin’,” Bucky reassured, hoping the tone of his voice didn’t betray him, although, judging by the elated look on your face, he had nothing to worry about. Your thoughts were focused entirely on something…  else.

“I was actually just about to leave,” he added and got to his feet. “Didn’t wanna disturb your conversation.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No, don’t go,” you implored, sliding your hand from his shoulder down his leather covered arm until your fingers reached the hem of his jacket.

Bucky held his breath as you gripped the material, the softness of your skin just barely brushing against him.

“He gave me his number so I’ll call him later if I feel like it.”

“You stay,” he demanded, “I’ll go. There is something I gotta take care of anyway and I don’t wanna ruin your evening.”

Pursing your lips together, you eyed him suspiciously, scanning every inch of his face for any tale of dishonesty. See, during the time the two of you have spent in each other's company, you have gotten quite good at reading your brooding neighbour, despite his closed off demeanour. Which is how you could clearly see there was something bothering him.

However, you have also come to learn when to stop pushing him and give him space.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated and shooting you one last congenial smile, he walked towards the exit.

You watched him leave, his figure disappearing in the shadows of the rainy New York night. Inhaling a quick breath, you returned to the guy you were chatting with just moments prior, and four drinks later, you stopped thinking about Bucky.

Albeit just for the night.

The next morning you wound up at his door, as usual. When he didn’t immediately answer, you retreated back into your own apartment without giving it a second thought because it was definitely like Bucky to ignore you from time to time.

That afternoon you knocked on his door again, and you repeated the action after returning from work over the next four days — still no Bucky. And because he was also not answering his phone when you called or replied to any of your texts, the worry suddenly spread through your veins making you nauseous. 

Feeling conflicted about what to do next (since it wasn’t like you knew anyone else in his life you could reach out to) you decided to distract yourself any way you knew how, hoping one day the grumpy brunette would simply show up at your door as if nothing happened.

Unfortunately for you, keeping your mind from wandering about your blue-eyed neighbour proved harder than you wanted it to be and it wasn’t until a few weeks after you last saw Bucky, the perfect distraction finally made an appearance.

You often debated adopting a pet but your landlord didn’t allow any animals which seemed like reason enough. Now, you were standing face to face with what was perhaps the most beautiful cat you had ever seen, and as you cautiously approached it, the white feline inclined towards you, allowing you to gently run your fingers through its fur and eventually pick it up.

While carrying the cat to your apartment, you researched vet clinics in the area and promptly made an appointment for that same afternoon. Turns out your new furry friend was a she and the epitome of health, making you think there was someone out there missing her immensely.

While at work, you printed out flyers with a picture you took of her and your phone number at the bottom, before dropping them around town during lunch.

For about a week, you waited. Waited for your cell to buzz but no one ever called.

“Alone together, huh���” you murmured, gently running your fingers through her soft fur, “Guess I should give you a name then. Can’t keep calling you cat, you deserve better, don’t you think?”

She purred in response, as if she understood every word you just said, and you couldn’t help but smile.

The next couple of days were spent brainstorming potential names although nothing you came up with seemed to stick because either you didn’t entirely like it or she didn’t respond to it — mostly the latter.

“You’re so stubborn,” you tittered, watching her lick her paw, “I should call you ‘Bucky’.” The name escaped your lips and you immediately froze, your mood dampening.

That night you didn’t sleep. Tossing and turning all night, thinking about the blue-eyed man for the first time since the cat has entered your life.

Stirring sugar into your coffee the following morning, Bucky still occupied your thoughts. 

There was something about him you couldn’t quite shake. Despite the majority of the people in your life being there longer than your super soldier neighbour, the connection you two shared, well you couldn’t really explain it. Bucky just made you feel… different.

Frankly, you hated yourself for becoming so codependent on another human. Sure you had a good group of friends and even enjoyed the company of a couple of your colleagues, but no one meant as much to you as James Barnes.

The cat snuggled into your leg, purring softly. You tilted your head down to look at her, her blue eyes reminiscent of Bucky’s, and a defeated sigh escaped your lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered and she blinked. For a moment you wondered if she sensed the growing sadness in your heart. You remember reading how pets can detect human emotion, which is why they provide so much comfort, but you had a hard time believing it, until now.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, shifting your expression into a half-smile. You were about to say something when a distinct jingle of keys drew your attention.

It couldn’t be, you thought and hastily dropped the teaspoon into the sink before heading for your front door.

At first you were almost certain you were seeing a ghost, pale and dishevelled. Then, for a brief second, you didn’t really know who you were looking at. An intruder or someone new moving in perhaps? (A lot of possibilities although you only wanted one to be true.)

It wasn’t until the person turned around, eyes meeting yours instantly, you realised it really was him.

Bucky was back. Unexpectedly. The exact same way he disappeared.

“Hey,” he greeted sheepishly.

Your first instinct was to get angry, but the longer you stared at him, heart thumping, the more you knew that wasn’t the rational thing to do. Anger wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t answer any questions. And you had a lot of questions.

The next thought that ran through your mind was to throw your arms around his neck and nuzzle yourself into his embrace because you missed him goddamnit.

“I-I…”

While you debated exactly how to react and what to say to him, your furry friend squeezed between your legs. The quiet meows grabbed your attention momentarily along with the attention of the brunette man.

With a shaky hand, you lifted the cat up before meeting Bucky’s gaze once again.

“I-I got a pet,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it because what a lame thing to say to someone you genuinely thought you would never see again.

He cleared his throat and responded, “I can see that.” Pause. “What’s um, what’s his name?”

“Her name,” you corrected, “And to be honest she still doesn’t really have one. I’ve just been calling her random things to see what would suit.”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Bucky fought back a smirk.

“That’s definitely unique,” he commented.

“Don’t tease me, James.”

Just as the two of you returned to your usual banter, silence surrounded once again when his name escaped your lips. An apologetic look spread across Bucky’s features and he took a step in your direction.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky decided quite early on into his friendship with you that he would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. When his feelings towards you transformed from general fondness into something much stronger, he decided the best way to keep the promise he made to himself would be to distance himself, (at least until said feelings faded).

He never planned on leaving. He simply wanted to make himself unavailable some evenings or weekends, come up with lame excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out. But the night Bucky left you at the bar, returning to his sad apartment alone, he switched on the TV. Suddenly, he needed to visit Sam. He figured you would understand. He never planned being away for so long. He never planned on leaving you behind without so much as an “I’ll be back”.

Looking at you now however, bottom lip quivering and tears in your eyes, he fucked up. He should have at least answered your calls and texts. 

You sniffled. The cat, which was now half-resting on your shoulder, alerted immediately to the gentle sound of your undeniable sadness and rubbed its paw against your face.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat, “I-I should go feed her.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn’t want you to leave yet, there was so much he had to say, a lot to explain. 

“Right, of course,” he uttered almost sheepishly, “Maybe later if you have some time we can—”

“Maybe,” you cut him off and did a u-turn back into your apartment, “Welcome back, James.”

-

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully.

And no, you weren’t avoiding Bucky. Not entirely. It just so happened that every time you had to leave, you did so via the fire escape as opposed to your front door, and every time you heard him out in the hallway, you switched everything off and held your breath, pretending you weren’t home.

You rationalised your behaviour as necessary. It wasn’t avoidance. It was… self preservation. He hurt your feelings when he left. You couldn’t just let him waltz back into your life as if nothing happened, opening yourself up for pain yet again.

Bucky was understanding of your unspoken request to be left the fuck alone. He knew he screwed up but he wasn’t sure how to make things better. All he wanted was to see you smile, and be the reason for it. How could the two of you get to that point when the couple of times you bumped into one another it was awkward?

Was it going to be like this forever?

Luckily, you had your cat to keep you distracted. 

Despite not being named yet, she brightened your mornings and had a calming effect in the evenings. She sat at your feet while you were baking and purred into your chest when you were taking a nap. She followed you around the apartment like a trusted companion, even sitting on the bathroom floor while you showered.

So it was strange when one morning she wasn’t in your bed and it was even stranger when you didn’t hear her tapper around the apartment while you were getting ready. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach when you called her for breakfast by the various names you’ve so far come up with — no response.

By the time you had searched around your whole apartment, you were already late for work. At that point you were thinking you couldn’t go in anyway, your fucking cat was missing. One quick “I think I have food poisoning.” call later, you unlock your laptop in search for the flyers you made when you found her. Tears formed in your eyes while adjusting the title from ‘IS THIS YOUR CAT?’ to ‘HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAT?.

That’s when you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

A short two minutes later, your knuckles are pressed against the wooden door of your neighbours apartment. One, two, three gentle knocks later, and Bucky is standing in front of you.

“I need your help,” is all you managed to blurt out. It’s all you needed to say, really. Bucky doesn’t need any further explanation when it comes to you. He grabbed his jacket and followed you without question.

When you showed him the poster on your laptop screen, he reassured you in a calm tone. One that almost makes you believe him. One that almost makes you forget that he’s left you all alone, without a word. Almost.

“When did you last see her?” Bucky asked.

When you shrugged your shoulders in a defeated manner, he sighed softly and without really thinking about where your friendship currently stood, wrapped his strong arms around you. The second his frame closed around yours, you burst into tears, face pressed against his chest as he held you close, consoling you.

The world seems to come to a stand still at that moment.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stood there. Seconds, minutes. He did, however, manage to calm you down, bringing the waterfall to barely a trickle as you sniffled against his t-shirt.

When Bucky eventually dropped his arms, you avoided his gaze. Scared to admit out loud how good that felt and how glad you were he was here for you, since he’s hurt you once when you became too attached, and you weren’t going to let him do it again.

“How about you stay here, in case she comes back, and I’ll go search for her outside?” Bucky suggested, dipping his head to try and meet your teary eyes. His hand is on your shoulder, barely holding on as if he was afraid you would suddenly flinch and pull away — which he most definitely was.

All you did was nod, and as he headed out the door, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“Anything for you, darlin’.” Is what you think you heard, but the tone of Bucky’s voice is so quiet, you rationalised that you heard wrong.

The day was spent wandering aimlessly around your apartment, checking your phone every two minutes to see if Bucky had had any updates on the whereabouts of your little pet. He had not.

By the time the sky turned dusky dark, you had lost all hope. She’d never be found. It was as if the universe only meant for you to be together while Bucky was away. You couldn’t have both. That would be too good, too lucky.

But just as you were about to start crying again, a glass of cheap wine in hand, the doorknob rattled and seconds later, in walked Bucky, holding your precious feline friend in his metal arm.

“Oh my god,” you exhaled as relief took over your entire body.

You ambled forward, reaching for the cat in Bucky’s grasp as she meowed uncontrollably, seemingly happy to see you. And Bucky smiled as he watched you snuggle into the white creature, heartbeat growing tenfold with every tick of the clock.

“She uh,” he began as you moved across your apartment, settling down on the couch, “She’s quite the climber, that one. After a day of searching half of Brooklyn, I eventually found her on the rooftop of this very building.”

“Thank you,” you said without averting your gaze from your furry white friend.

What he wanted to say is, “Just glad I could be here for you,” but what he uttered instead was, “Don’t mention it, darlin’.”

For a moment, Bucky hovered in your entryway, unsure whether you wanted him to leave now or if he could stay, just like he did many times before. He decided to not push it. Decided it’s best for the longevity of your friendship to not force anything with you, especially since the strong feelings he had for you before he left have only increased in the time apart — complete opposite of what he wanted to happen.

So he turned on his heel, but just as he was about to say goodnight, you turned your attention to where he stood and waved him over.

“Stay,” you requested, “The least I can do as a thank you is order us some takeout.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’.”

“I want to,” you said honestly, hoping he can detect your sincerity, “Stay, please. I-I let you walk away once before and ended up not seeing you for months.”

He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

“Please stay. I want you to stay, James.”

-

The morning light trickled in through your half-opened curtains, causing your eyes to open slightly and take in your usual surroundings. Except these weren’t entirely your usual surroundings. There was one thing different this Saturday morning as compared to others.

Bucky was still asleep, covered loosely by one of your many blankets. His chest heaved softly, quiet breathes escaping through his parted lips. He looked so peaceful sleeping in your bed, sleeping next to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you.

You shifted to your side and slowly trailed your gaze along his pretty perfect features, focusing on the details you’ve honestly never noticed before. The scruff perfectly angling his jawline, the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes showcasing how he’s aged over the years, barely noticeable but still present.

Then the cat made an appearance, jumping on the bed, settling between you and the super soldier. Before you got a chance to shush it, not wanting to wake Bucky up, she purred against his shoulder.

A smile crept up on his features at the contact. Seconds later, he opened his eyes before slowly tilting his head to first look at the pet, then at you.

“Good mornin’.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence during which you two simply stare at one another. Time seemed to have come to a standstill. The blue of his eyes piercing, searching your gaze for what, neither of you were really sure. All you both knew was the longer you remained this way, the more your hearts swelled.

Bucky was suddenly feeling nervous, as were you.

“Thank you for staying,” you eventually whispered.

“Thank you for asking me to stay,” he replied.

Another second of silence. 

There was so much Bucky wanted to tell you, but the words were stuck in his throat because how can someone go from avoiding, leaving without a word, to admitting that they cannot live without the other person. And that’s exactly how he was feeling. He’s come to terms with it now. He couldn’t live without you.

Would you even feel the same? He wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, he would think you’d want to remain a little distant given everything that’s happened. But then again, if that’s how you felt, then why would you ask him to stay?

Maybe you just needed the extra push, same as him.

“Think you should name her Alpine,” Bucky suggested, one hand rubbing the cat that was now sitting on his chest, while the other reached for your fingers. Slow, but not hesitant. 

“Alpine,” you tested the name on your lips. “I like that.”

You take his hand then, intertwining your fingers together without commenting on the fact. He squeezed gently, testing the waters further, and you squeezed back — again, both of you choosing not to say anything about the physical interaction.

“Did you have any plans for today?” Bucky asked and you shook your head. “So, would you eh, would you wanna go somewhere?”

The smile on your lips widened.

“We do have a lot of catching up to do, neighbour.” A modest tease. One you hope won’t ruin the moment, or the day ahead.

He just chuckled, mimicking your expression and making any worries disappear just as fast as they threatened to break through.

“That we do, darlin’.” Pause. “I’m sorry for messing it all up. I promise to make it up to you, starting today.”

Taking his apology in, you let go of his hand, instantly missing his touch. Bucky was too, but he didn't get to completely register just how much because you shuffled closer to where he lay, closing the gap between you.

One arm extended towards his chest, resting gently as your fingers brushed a now sleeping Alpine, and also grazed against Bucky’s own in the process. The thudding of your heart inside your chest was most likely loud enough for him to hear — it was. He focused on it, the beating, and it calmed him entirely.

Your aura calmed him. It has since day one and he hoped it would until the end of his days on this Earth.

Yes, Bucky was more than attached to you.

Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

Sealed with a soft kiss.

as always, thank you so so much for reading, and please reblog to tell me what you think! <3

main masterlist

[rapha3liii]

THIS IS SO FUCKIN CUTEEEE THANKYOU!!!

I drew frog the dog from a mutually assured attachment by @rapha3liii I love that dog he's so cute and also stardew valley

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[auspicioustidings]

You get married to Laird John MacTavish as a business arrangement of sorts. When you caught him getting buggered by Duke Riley in the gardens they had both thought you would ruin them, but instead you proposed a mutually beneficial arrangement. You needed to be married so your husband could inherit your parents estate before your father died and it all went to your awful cousin and Laird MacTavish needed to get married to quell the rumours of his deviance. Duke Riley is rich and powerful enough that a scandal would hurt but not destroy him, but as only a Laird it would bring MacTavish to utter ruination.

So you became Lady MacTavish and assure your husband that you do not mind the shame of being called barren so he needn't bother himself with coming to your bed chambers when there is another he would prefer to share his with.

You think yourself very clever for this whole scheme but you are about to learn that Duke Riley does not share affections and when he sees his Johnny growing attached to his new wife, well he needs to make sure everyone understands who he belongs to and by extension who you now belong to.

[rapha3liii]

Canon behaviour you can't convince me otherwise-

Sebastian is getting scolded for smoking infront of the little ones , Abigail is five seconds away from murdering a townsfolk and Sam (who was supposed to help Penny watch the kids) is somehow getting the blame for the group... just as god intended

Stardew Valley fair

[sleyu]

thinking of perv!bf james who begs you to let him take dirty polaroids of you for when you’re apart. cause how else is he meant to get off without an image of his cum on your pretty tits or you choking on his cock? definitely keeps them in his wallet for easy access too

perfect timing, i just came back from work and all i could think about as i was making people’s drinks was perv ! james…

i am positively going insane at the thought of this. i referenced james asking for photos of you in my james bf headcanons, but i totally forgot to mention all the nudes he would beg for during summer vacation.（；＿；）♡

dating you has gotten him sex addicted and he can only spend so long merely imagining your face and body :( he has such a tough time cumming without you and he hates not having you there or being forced to resort to masturbating because it only further reminds him of his loneliness.

but, the photo-system you guys developed assures him that he’s the only one that gets to have personalized photos of you in his hands that are attached along with every love letter you send him. it also eases his loneliness and makes spending time apart easier for the both of you.

right before school ends, you suggest taking photos of the two of you for when the summer holiday begins and you both are separated by the barrier that is vacations and dependent families.

james practically loses his mind at the thought of this and he makes it his mission to take photos of you from his favourite angles and sights: taking you from behind (he begs you to turn your face to look at him so that it appears in the photo), your cum-covered face and tits, your legs spread with cum dripping out of your abused cunt, you choking on his cock, and your naked, spent body sprawled across his bed, fucked out after a particularly rough session.

some photos are downright filthy (every photo with the cum) which are the ones that he jerks off to the most, whereas others are taken with an artistic eye, aesthetically pleasing enough for him to put in his wallet or on the corner of his bedroom mirror.

the photo of you in his wallet would be something pretty and taken with purpose. it would either be your cum covered, smiling face (so that anyone who takes a glance at his wallet would assume it’s simply an innocent photo of his girlfriend), or, as we know, james loves the risk, a photo of your bruised and bitten tits, littered with hickeys and love bites.

god, when james finally reaches home from hogwarts, he immediately locks himself in his room to pull out the envelope of polaroids he’s taken over the year, eagerly searching through the photos he had taken of you. james is such a little pervert that his cock was already beginning to throb at the mere thought of jerking off to those photos of you.

even though you knew that he had these photos intended for his own personal, depraved purposes, something about pulling out his cock out from his slacks and slowly stroking himself to your pretty, candid, unknowing face—occasionally slapping his cock gently on the laminated paper—was so filthy and lewd to him.

of course, the picture deal has to be mutual and he’s more than happy to send you nude photos of him. one of the photos would be his hard, leaking cock tributing to the cum-covered photo of you smiling. looking at the photo and realizing how creepy and perverted it comes across only made the ache in his cock worse. he’d graze his length against his pillow, groaning to himself, making a silent prayer that all of this is enough to relieve the constant need in him and his craving for your cunt.

‘’m so fuckin’ sick,’ he’d sigh, grinning wolfishly.

i also have a sick feeling that not only james, but the rest of the marauders favourite photos to jerk themselves off to are the innocent ones in which you’re smiling happily into the camera, showing off your pretty sundress. of course, nothing beats the lewd photos of you, but they find themselves cumming harder at the unsuspecting photos, imagining your cute, smiling face in front of them, eagerly waiting to be covered and marked by their cum. something about tainting and subsequently corrupting the innocence and purity that the casual photos reveal drives them mad.

‘gonna fuckin’ ruin you the next time i see you—fuck,’

[sonotpattismith]

gee willikers, batman!

pairing: boxer!choso x nurse!reader word count: 11k content: fluff, always a lil angsty w/ me, commitment issues, mentions of toxic relationship dynamics, for my girlies w/ a fearful-avoidant attachment style, big brother choso, mentions of abuse and domestic violence, smut, 18+ a/n: not sure if I like how this turned out but alas we shall persevere :')

You desperately needed to develop a better taste in men. Or a therapist. Whichever came to you faster would be best. 

In reality, it should have been a sign early on into your career when you were so drawn toward the Emergency Department specifically that perhaps you had a certain… affinity for the more chaotic things in life. It was evident in your job, and it was evident in your disaster ex-boyfriend who you’d just broken up with a mere week shy of your one year anniversary. 

He, like the many other men you’ve let waltz into your life, might as well have had ‘RED FLAG’ tattooed across his forehead, but it seemed you were never satisfied unless you were on the brink of a complete crash out— at least that was how you’d always felt until now. Maybe you were getting too old for it, all the bad boy types who had you clinging onto your phone in a furious rage most nights arguing over god knows what. It was never simple, but you seemed to enjoy the thrill of the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ types of attitudes. 

Again, at least until your latest wannabe edge lord candidate had had you so fed up with his overbearing possessiveness that you were sure your nervous system was completely fried. It wasn’t until that last fight though, that ended with your phone screen shattered after he’d tossed it across the room in a child-like tantrum that was just so like him— the one after which you found yourself having to practice the very same fucking grounding techniques you’d show your patients when experiencing panic attacks prior to procedures— you thought perhaps it was time for a change. 

Which was precisely why you couldn’t for the life of you understand why your coworker insisted on taking you here of all places. Ierie had been working with you for a few years now, so she had already heard about every argument, block, and makeup between you and that disaster of an ex-boyfriend of yours. Though she tried (not very hard but tried nonetheless) to conceal her unbridled excitement when you told you that you had ended things, she was practically bursting at the seams. 

After the poorly concealed praise to a higher being she performed following the news, she did still want to be there for you. That was why she insisted on hanging out tonight so you wouldn’t have to be alone on what was supposed to be your one year anniversary. The catch was though, she seemed to have forgotten that she had already promised one of her long time friends from highschool that she’d be at his fight that same night. 

Which led you to the very predicament you were in now, damn near overstimulated by the hollering and sweaty bodies pushing against you in the overcrowded, modestly sized arena that looked like it hadn’t been maintenanced in at least ten years. Ierie’s cold hand was dragging you by the wrist to assure you didn’t get swallowed up by the crowd, claiming that her friend had already reserved two spots toward the front. 

“I know I came here to support him, but I don’t think Suguru is winning this thing.” She shouted over the crowd once you two found your spots, watching as a burly man stalked around the area taking bets for the fight. 

“Geez, some friend you are.” You snorted with an amused shake of your head. “Does he suck or something?”

Truthfully, you knew nothing about boxing. It was never really your thing, even though you seemed to have quite a few mutual friends involved in the local boxing scene. You weren’t sure of the big names that everyone threw around, who was good and who was mediocre. Despite the fact that you’d much rather be rotting in bed, wallowing in your own self-pity right about now, you figured you should at least try to enjoy yourself and understand what you were watching. 

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head, her neck craning up to watch as the boxers began making their way out. “The guy he’s going up against is like a fucking machine. He never loses— at least I’ve never seen it.”

“Crazy strong?” You assumed, watching as the man you recognized as her friend hopped into the ring, his long hair pulled back into a neat bun out of his face. Shoko hummed unconvincingly. 

“Nah, I heard he’s got a kid or something. So, I think he’s just crazy determined is all.” 

You hummed, suddenly intrigued to see someone going against Geto— who was already scarily large in your book— with nothing but pure motivation to provide under his belt. As they announced his name— Choso— and he ducked into the ring across from his opponent, you realized that he definitely had more on his side than Shoko let on. 

“Holy shit.” You muttered under your breath, lips parting as you watched him shed his jacket. He looked fairly young for a father, but the dark circles under his eyes surely fit the bill. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so shocked given his line of work, but the man was built like a tank, insanely broad shoulders to carry around those down right dangerous biceps of his.

“Eh? Didn’t I say this would take your mind off of what’s his face?” Your friend grinned knowingly with a teasing nudge of her elbow. She jutted her chin toward the ring. “Think his kid needs a step-mom?”

“Ierie,” You flushed with a breathless laugh. Suguru and Choso met in the middle of the ring, touching their gloved fists together as they awaited the match to begin. “Did you not hear me when I said I need a little bit of peace in my life for once?”

She didn’t respond to your rhetorical question though, because the opening bell was ringing and the boxers began dancing around the ring faster than you could process, administering and dodging blows so fluidly it almost looked choreographed. You noticed how Choso protected his face the majority of the match, ducking and dodging far more than actually swinging. When he did swing though, he swung hard. You wondered with your limited knowledge of the sport if his strategy was just tiring his opponent out. 

A few minutes in, you found yourself flinching back with each punch that was thrown his way, but Geto rarely landed one on his opponent. 

“I knew you’d go gaga for this!” Shoko shouted with a delighted laugh. “You love the dangerous ones!” 

“Shut up!” You grumbled back at her, chewing at the side of your thumb anxiously as the two grew closer to the side of the ring you and Shoko were stationed at. 

Of course, they likely knew what they were doing, but you couldn’t help but think of worst case scenario where these two two-hundred plus pound fighters toppled over the ring and onto your unsuspecting and unprepared body. You abruptly stood from your seat as Geto was cornered against the ring, his back facing you just a mere couple feet away. 

From up close as Choso was landing calculated blows on his trapped opponent, you were able to see that subtle pout in his lips that contrasted against the big and scary vibe every other part of him emanated. The mark across his nose scrunched up in sheer focus, stray bangs from his haphazard bun falling across his forehead. 

It only took a second, your abrupt movement shifting in his peripheral. His dark eyes drifted up just over Geto’s shoulder and met yours. The gloved fists that had been raised and shielding his face for nearly the entire match slowly faltered, drifting down in hopes of getting a better look at your wide eyed expression. 

Those glossy eyes were locked on him, and perhaps he was too awestruck to note that— yeah, everyone was looking at him right now— because it truly did feel as though you were the only one in the room for even just a moment. The whiplash hit him straight in the ribs harder than any opponent could land, knocking the air from his lungs as he watched your face morph in horror. It was just milliseconds following the abrupt change that Geto’s glove was hitting him smack-dab in the center of his face. 

You yelled out in surprise as Choso was instantly knocked back, falling onto the unforgiving ground below him while the arena erupted in hollers, because shit, everyone had bet on him. Even Suguru looked taken aback by how quickly his opponent dropped, because he’d fought with him before and definitely knew that he usually kept his stance stiff enough so that blows like that didn’t take him down so easily— and they certainly never kept him down.

The referee had knelt down beside him to count him down, but you were more concerned by the way blood had begun to trickle out of his nose and even the corner of his mouth. His eyes were barely open, squinting blearily at the blinding lights above him. 

“He’s gonna aspirate if they don’t move him off his back.” You shouted desperately at Shoko, clutching anxiously onto her elbow. 

“They have to count him down— rules are rules.” She stated absentmindedly, getting on her tiptoes to get a better look. “You’re off the clock.”

Ten seconds. He could get through it, you tried to convince yourself as you bounced on your heels. Time was moving too slow though, and you watched in dread as his chest heaved with a cough, the blood that had gathered in his mouth sputtering up to paint his chin and cheeks. 

“They’re gonna kill him.” Your frantic declaration had barely processed in your friend's mind before you were hopping through the ropes and hoisting yourself into the ring. She was yelling out to you, and one of the boxer’s cornermen shot forward to stop you, but you had already slid onto your knees beside the referee, who was also trying to push you back. “He’s choking on his blood!” 

They paused at your sudden, furied response, too startled to do anything as you grabbed his shoulder and mustered all your strength to roll him onto his side. Finally on his side, you reached over to pull the guard from his mouth. At once, Choso began sputtering up and coughing, coating the floor with the blood that he had been drowning in.

As he continued clearing his airway, your fingers carefully dug into the back of his head, threading through his hair to check for blood. With the sudden movements, he was slowly beginning to come to, though all he could hear through the ringing in his ears was the muffled uproar from the crowd. Blinking back his delirium, he lazily shifted onto his back once again, eyes drifting back shut.

“No, no, no— sit up for me.” Your voice instructed him through the haze of his attempted slumber. 

Even Geto had shed his gloves and was kneeling down to help you get him upright. 

“I didn’t even hit him that hard.” He explained in bafflement, the most subtle layer of guilt twinging his tone. “It’s like he completely ragdolled for a second.”

It took all the energy Choso had remaining to blink up at you. The sight of you— the same girl who had thrown him out of his zone for likely the first time ever in his career— his consciousness seemed to come flooding back to him. Sitting up quickly with your’s and Geto’s urging hands under his back, he looked around frantically in an attempt to grasp what had happened. 

“Do you feel nauseous?” You asked him as he watched your lips form in a frenzy around the words. 

Blood was beginning to pour from his quickly bruising nose into his lips, and the thus far useless cornermen bounded over with a small towel. Bunching it up, you carefully placed it onto his nose before tilting his head forward to allow it to flow out. 

“I-I don’t—” Choso was stammering, as was so very common for him, but never in the ring, and he was coming to the mortifying revelation that the insanely gorgeous girl just watched him get the lights knocked out of him with a single blow. 

Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words. You moved the towel aside to hear him better. 

“I don’t usually, uh—” He gulped, face flushing embarrassingly dark for someone who was on the brink of a possible concussion. You tilted your head at him. “Y’know, lose that easy— hah.” 

His attempted nonchalant laughter sounded more like a nervous sigh, but his slurred explanation had an amused smile curling through the concerned pout of your lips. He found himself smiling along with you, blood coating his teeth. 

“So I’ve heard, hot-shot.” You quipped with a shake of your head, pressing the towel back into his nose just as the medic finally hopped into the ring. Your eyes remained on his dopey expression as you tilted your head to the side to address them in a hushed tone. “Check him for a concussion, he’s looking crazy.”

Choso did not, in fact, have a concussion. At least that’s what the medic deduced in the back after having assessed him. Given that there, for some god forsaken reason, only seemed to be one medic present, you aided in transporting him to the back where you stuck around for support. Shoko was rolling her eyes in exasperation, mumbling something incoherent about your never taking a day off. She was however thoroughly entertained by the notion that the Choso Kamo got knocked onto his ass for the first time solely because he got a glimpse of you. Despite the evidence that was pointing there, you vehemently continued to disagree with her on what caused his little hiccup in the ring. 

The medic was packing his things up as you were not-so-subtly re-checking his pupil reactions, because you seriously were questioning the credentials of the supposed medical professional that was about to let the man aspirate right in the ring. Choso didn’t question your insistence on double-checking, his wide, chocolate eyes following your pen light obediently— any excuse to be at the center of your attention for a little longer, right?

“So you’re, um—” His gaze fluttered as you clicked the light off before switching it to your other hand and turning it back on. “You’re a doctor?” 

You smiled fondly and shook your head. 

“An ER nurse— my friend over there’s a doctor though.” You explained, nodding your head back to where Shoko was speaking to Geto. She shouted something about being off the clock before continuing her conversation. 

Choso hummed, blinking away the spots in his eyes left behind by the light. Upon closer inspection, you noted that the mark running jaggedly across his nose and cheeks was a scar, and not an oddly placed tattoo as you had assumed when first seeing it. If he noticed you staring, he made no indication of it— not with the puppy-dog like gaze he still had on you, a small smile on his blood-stained lips. 

His attention was pulled away from you as a ping rang from his dufflebag. Tearing his eyes from yours, he quickly fumbled through his clothes before procuring his cellphone. In a last-ditch effort to make it seem like you weren’t just staring at the man, you busied yourself with cleaning up the blood-soaked towels and tissues that had begun surrounding him. 

“Is everything okay?” Choso had barely glanced at the screen before quickly taking the call. “He’s still not asleep?”

You watched his brows furrow from your peripheral, and you desperately tried to mind your own business. In the louder corners of your mind though, Shoko’s words rang in your mind about his having a child. Despite only having spoken a few words to him, you just couldn’t see how this young, gentle-giant of a man was a father. 

“Yeah,” His voice had become lighter suddenly, an amused smile painting his face so affectionately it damn near gave you baby fever. “Tell him I’m fine— I should be home in a little bit.”

You quickly averted your sidelong glance once he hung up the phone, moving to wash your blood stained hands in the dingy sink that sat in the corner. From the mirror, you could see him digging through his bag to grab a shirt. 

“Sorry— my babysitter called.” He explained as he tugged a baggy, graphic tee over his head. As if it took him a moment to realize how that sounded, his frantic face was quickly popping out the neck of the shirt to clarify. “I take care of my little brother, I mean. I’m not um— y’know, his… dad.”

With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you could have cursed yourself for the subtle excitement brewing in your stomach at the fact that this man was likely single—  and he wanted you to know it, too. Reaching down to grab your bag from the bench, you slung it over your shoulder.  Jumping into action, Choso was quickly picking up his own bag to walk beside you. 

“Big brother’s a boxer, huh? He must think you’re a god.” 

“Oh, he doesn’t know, actually.” He corrected with a subtle flush, his hand fiddling with the strap of his bag. Noting the way your brows rose in surprise, he offered a meek smile. “I just don’t want him getting caught up in all this.”

“And how does he suppose you get all those bruises then?” You teased, but you were quickly putting two and two together that keeping his job a secret from his little brother was likely the reason for his oddly calculated boxing approach. He never seemed to make risky moves, always preferring to protect himself above all else and only striking when he was sure to land it. 

Suddenly, a bashful expression overtook his face, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly as his eyes darted away from you. It was undeniably endearing to see such a tall and muscular man so easily flustered, especially considering how solemnly terrifying he appeared in the ring. 

“Well, he…” He scratched at his head before huffing out a chuckle. “He kind of thinks I’m Batman.”

A choked laugh attempted to hide itself within your throat, but it, of course, failed miserably. Choso turned away from you in hopes that you wouldn’t see the maroon color that painted his neck and cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. That’s just really cute.” You explained through uncontrolled giggles, not missing the way Shoko rose a knowing brow at you as the two of you drew closer. “Well, uh… good luck with that bruise then, Batman.”

“Y-You should let me grab you dinner— y’know to… thank you for not letting me choke.” You turned as Choso chuckled nervously, the hand you had placed on your friend’s arm to head out with her falling. 

 Your gaze fluttered as you looked back at his hopeful expression, but all you could think about was the fact that you’d just broken up with your boyfriend just a week prior because he was no good for you. Staring back at the crusted blood at the corner of his mouth, along with the way his nose was blossoming with a vibrant black and blue hue, you shook your head with an apologetic smile. 

“I’ve got a shift in the morning.” You explained, having to turn away lest your heart break at the way his face seemed to fall ever-so-slightly. “But I hope you feel better!”

As you and Shoko left, she was whisper-shouting over her shoulder an apology to him about your only liking assholes with a feigned subtlety. It was the subdued goodnight that he still called out to you even in the midst of his rejection that had you staring up at your ceiling that night wondering if you’d always be hard-wired to make things difficult for yourself. 

You wished you had had the opportunity to forget about the interaction altogether the following morning at the start of your shift. Typically, working in the ER meant fast-paced, constantly needing to be on edge, and certainly not having the time to think about anything else other than what might be walking through those doors at any moment. As fate would have it though, today was one of the rare instances that your shift was absolutely dragging. 

It was already nearly a quarter of the way into your shift, and all you had triaged so far was an elderly woman with a mild cough, a kid trying to get out of his school’s testing day with a feigned stomach ache, and a hungover college student in desperate need of IV fluids. Needless to say, you were beginning to grow restless. 

You were a mere ten minutes away from throwing in the towel and taking your lunch break early, a luxury you were almost never privileged to, when your pager pinged alerting a new patient. Sitting up with a start, you quickly clicked at your computer to wake it up and check the chart. 

Possible head injury; rule out TBI

Maybe if you hadn’t been so eager to just get up and do something, you would have read into their chart more. For now though, you were avidly collecting your things to check in the first patient you’ve had in the last two hours. Lugging the vitals machine behind you, you offered a soft knock on the wall as you glanced over the chart one more time and slid the curtain open. Your mouth popped open as your eyes finally landed on the name. 

“Choso?” You muttered under your breath, brows furrowing as you looked up from the chart to see the very man you suspected perched upon the sterile bed. 

He almost looked surprised to see you at first, those dewey eyes of his widening ever-so-slightly at the sight of you before a smile spread across his lips. Upon first glance, he looked to be the picture of health (save for the now diabolical bruise spread across the center of his face), smiling and bright eyed with no visible reason for why he’d be complaining of a head injury. As if noting the way your eyes began to narrow doubtfully at him, he quickly attempted to wipe the smile from his face. 

“Um— I was… I was starting to feel symptoms of a concussion.” The burly man stammered out as though rehearsed. 

Barely able to bite back your own amused grin, you tucked the chart under your arm before leaning against the wall expectantly. You made a go on motion with a wave of your hand, but Choso hadn’t expected to be so distracted by the sight of you in your scrubs. Rolling his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, he gulped nervously. 

“Y’know, like a… headache a-and uh…” An anxious smile graced his face as you raised a skeptical brow at him. He couldn’t help it though— not with the way your jogger-style scrub bottoms hugged at your curves so tantalizingly, and you looked so cute with your stethoscope hanging around your neck, the one that would surely catch the way his traitorous heart was racing against his rib cage. 

“How did you know which hospital I worked at, Choso?” You finally interrogated once he’d been stammering a little too long to come up with other relevant symptoms. 

He cast his eyes to the side as you moved to pull the sleeve of his t-shirt up to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his bulging bicep. Though you had already deduced that he was likely fine, he had still been registered as a patient, and now you needed to go through the typical procedures. You wondered if he was even aware of how attractive he was, because the way he remained oblivious to the manner in which you ran a hand unnecessarily down his arm on your way to the pump told you that he had no clue.

“Lucky guess.” He tried to come off as cool, hoping you wouldn’t see through the fact that this was the third emergency room he’d been to today. It wouldn’t let him rest though— the memory of you hovering above him as he came to, the thought that you had jumped into a boxing ring for a stranger and essentially saved his life. “You didn’t let me thank you yesterday. You saved my life.”

“Don’t you have a kid to be taking care of?” You quipped teasingly, a bit flustered at his gratitude as you undid the cuff from his arm. This time around, he did notice the way you rubbed soothingly at the mark left behind by the cuff, and whether conscious or not, he found himself flexing his arm ever-so-slightly just for you.

“Yuji? He’s at school.” Choso explained dismissively before quickly veering back on topic. “I wanted to make sure you were coming to the rematch, but I didn’t have your number.”

He opened his mouth obediently as you nudged the thermometer against his lips, lifting his tongue for you to rest it underneath. The way his pretty, pink lips wrapped around the thermometer made your breath hitch, and you forced yourself to tear your eyes from his as they bore intently into you. You hummed once it beeped, shedding the sterile cover into the bin by the bed. 

“Rematch, huh?” He nodded, fervent eyes following each of your movements as you turned to confirm his vitals into the machine before turning back to face him once again. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m not actually into boxing.”

“You were front row at the match last night.” He rationalized, and his shoulders were slowly falling in disappointment. After a moment, he shook his head before continuing his pursuit. “Then let me take you to dinner at least.”

“Listen, I’m just not really—”

Your excuse was cut off when, after barely a moment of contemplation, Choso grabbed the chart from your hand and tossed it to the floor. A few owlish blinks were sent his way.   

“Your friend said you like assholes.” The man explained simply, but it was clearly eating him alive, evident in the way his determined eyes darted between you and the clipboard that had just got done clattering on the floor. A couple, painfully silent seconds passed before he kissed his teeth quietly, sliding off the bed to pick it back up for you anyway.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for your sanity, that little failed stunt worked on you, and Choso bounded out of the ER that afternoon with your contact in his phone. Still, you made it clear to him that you’d reach out to him when you were ready. He nodded along intently as you explained that you had only just gotten out of a relationship, and you didn’t exactly feel that you trusted your ability to pick a man right now. 

It didn’t matter to him though, because you had saved his number under Batman on your phone, and he had never been so proud of the silly persona his baby brother had assigned to him. So, he assured you not to worry, that there was no rush, and that he owed you a dinner whenever it was that you felt like having him.  Sure, the next few days may have been spent glued to his phone in hopes that you’d get over your idiot of an ex-boyfriend sooner rather than later, but he could be patient, right?

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that he began to worry that perhaps you had only taken his number with the hopes that he’d leave you alone. Perhaps you were just letting him down easy. After all, he had shown up to your job after already having gotten a no from you. Choso had never been great with women​​— he’d never had the opportunity to, what with his taking over care for Yuji so early on into what were supposed to be his prime bachelor days. 

Up until now though, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t had the chance to grow out of his awkward, teenage boy cadence, he’d never thought much of it. Sure, he was a man, and he had needs too, but there were always more important things to worry about— like putting food on the table and keeping a roof over the head of his baby brother. His job certainly didn’t require him to be a smooth talker, or a talker at all for that matter. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t read the body language or social cues that women threw at him— not until it was you that he couldn’t get a read on. 

What he didn’t know was that you had spent the month waging war on yourself. The battle consisted of the you that wanted to remain in the familiar arms of men who your commitment fearing heart was sure to see no future with and the you that wondered if taking the hot, kind-eyed boxer’s offer of taking you to dinner and treating you like an adult human being was such a bad thing. 

The decision was proving to be more difficult than you could have ever anticipated, because it was as if your man-child of an ex-boyfriend could smell that you were contemplating doing better for yourself once, and he had been texting you for weeks now. There were apologies, paragraphs sent about how your constant arguments only meant that you two were passionate about one another— ones that had you rolling your eyes while simultaneously thinking that this was the safe option. 

You had come to a fork in the road though, as you stared down at his text asking if you’d meet him at the place you two met— some dingy arcade where you always had to hold your breath in because it seemed none of the men in attendance knew what soap or deodorant were. It was the same place where you remember finding it charming how heated he’d get over losing a game— it was quirky and hot and you couldn’t possibly see how that short-temper might pose a challenge to your relationship. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, your thumbs hovered over the cracked screen that had lain witness to just how un-charming that temper could get. Glancing up at your carefully placed makeup in the mirror, you realized that you had missed getting all done up— missed going out instead of sulking in your apartment and contemplating where your abysmal attachment style could have possibly manifested from. With a shake of your head, you decided that you had put far too much effort into yourself to end up in that cesspool of a joint by the end of the night. 

The cool wind nipped at your cheeks as you tried to borrow yourself deeper into the collar of your coat. You thought that perhaps you should have just waited in the car, but, then again, you weren’t exactly familiar with the protocol for proper dates. The dim lighting offered by the awning outside of the quietly buzzing restaurant cast a soft glow onto the wooden bench you were sitting on as you anxiously peered at the parking lot. 

Just as you were on the brink of losing a toe to hyperthermia, an older looking, black cat peeled into the parking lot, barely coming to a stop before the driver’s door was swinging open. Choso’s frantic gaze caught yours almost instantly, and he almost appeared relieved that you hadn’t left.

“I’m so sorry, I know I’m late.” He babbled, shutting his door firmly before glancing into the back of his car. “Look, I um… I understand if you’re not cool with this, but my babysitter canceled on me last minute.”

In the midst of his hesitant explanation, he was tugging the backseat open, offering you one last apprehensive glance before ducking his head in. When he emerged once again, it was with a pink-haired, bright-eyed toddler in his arms. You stood up as Choso walked your way, whispering something that, by the look of the softly stern expression on his face, looked to be a warning to behave to his little brother before setting him down.

“I’m really sorry about this. If you want to go I—”

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to my date, Choso?” Your mockingly stern tone halted his mortified rambling. 

The boy, barely reaching his brother’s mid-thigh, was looking up at you with that fiercely curious expression that only a toddler assessing your danger level could pull off. His small, gloved hand was clutching onto Choso’s pointer and middle finger as the fake fur on his tiger beanie swayed with the gust of wind that whipped his way. 

It certainly wasn’t how you had expected to spend your night off, but something about that exasperated guilt in Choso’s tone made your heart clench. All these years you had spent worrying about which douchebag you’d be picking yourself back up over, and this man, who couldn’t have been much older than you at all, had never had that stupid privilege. Such a miniscule act as not raising a fuss over his bringing his baby brother to dinner with him had him staring at you as though you’d hung the stars in the sky, and you suddenly decided that you had made the right decision that night. 

A small, delighted smile tugged at his lips, and he quickly looked down to nudge the boy forward.

“This is Yuji, and he promised he was going to be on his best behavior for our friend tonight, right?” Choso urged with a subtle desperation hidden in his eyes. Your heart nearly melted as he nodded ardently with a soft sneeze.

“Niichan never has girl friends—” 

“Okay, Yuji! Why don’t you show her how you open the door like a gentleman?” He eagerly cut off his brother’s innocent confession with a rapidly flushing face, scooping him up so that he could reach the handle. You offered a knowing, sidelong glance at the flustered man, unable to bite back your tickled smile as you nodded to Yuji in thanks as he held the door open for you with a prideful beam.

Choso had just about jumped out of his skin when your name randomly popped onto his phone. He must have re-read your text twenty times to assure he was understanding correctly, because the girl who had been radio silent for nearly a month was asking if tonight was a good night for her to cash in on the dinner he owed her. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t a good night. He had been expecting to stay home with Yuji tonight given he didn’t have a match, and his brother didn’t have school the next morning. Because of that, he really didn’t have anyone lined up to babysit tonight. He frantically called his usual babysitter, practically begging her to come on such short notice, and he nearly did a backflip when she agreed. 

Yuji was following him around the house with that lighthearted laugh, the kind that made Choso think that maybe he wasn’t doing such a bad job at taking care of him after all, asking him why he was practically bouncing around the house as he rushed to shower and dug recklessly through his closet for something decent to wear. 

It had all come crashing down on him just ten minutes before he was supposed to leave, already having explained to his little brother that his babysitter would be coming tonight, when the woman in question called to let him know that her shift at her full-time job had gone over schedule. He sat hunched over his phone on the couch for what seemed like eternity as he contemplated what to do.

It had taken you an entire month to finally agree to a date with him. Would you change your mind if he canceled on you with such short notice? Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he noted that he was already going to be late, and the thought of leaving you waiting for him at the restaurant had him making the executive decision to bundle his little brother up in his winter clothes and pack him in the car with him. 

Halfway to the restaurant was when it hit him that perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, but it was too late now. He wasn’t sure anything could have prepared him for how quickly you’d let it slide off your shoulders, and certainly not for how easily you’d work Yuji into what was meant to be a date with just you two. 

Here he was though, lips parted stupidly as he watched you allow the boy to steal bites off of your plate (despite how many times he’d already swatted his hand away in mortification) and follow along with all the longwinded stories that toddlers were so good at telling with no real conclusion in sight. It seemed impossible for him to have found you anymore beautiful than he already did, but you were proving him wrong with every affectionate smile sent his way each time Yuji would innocently reveal another humiliating detail about his older brother to you.

“If I had known he was going to woo you so hard I would have left him in the car.” Choso joked with a timid smile, already having had his fill of embarrassment for one night following Yuji’s announcement that he cried everytime he watched Brother Bear with him.

You thought having the five-year-old around helped lessen what typically would have been a painfully awkward first date. Additionally, the seemingly tight-knit relationship they had made you wonder how Choso had found himself with such a responsibility so young in the first place. Of course, with Yuji around, it was hard to veer onto the topic. 

“And how else would I have found out so much about the big, bad Choso Kamo?” You teased as Yuji busied himself with a coloring page the waitress had brought over (much to his brother’s relief). “Brother Bear, huh? Can’t blame you, that one used to get me too.”

“I don’t cry everytime.” 

“Mhmm,” With an unconvinced hum, you peered up at him through the rim of your cup as you took a sip. “So, what turned you into a bear then, hm?”

The fond smile on his face slowly dissipated, leading you to believe that what you thought was a harmlessly joking question held more depth than you gave it credit for. Soon, your smile was quickly falling too as you sat up a little straighter.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” He reassured, attempting to bring that same lighthearted nature back around, but his eyes were heavier as he regarded you kindly. “I just… had to be.”

It was the only explanation he offered you, and somehow it was enough for you to understand the gravity of whatever their situation must have been— at least for now.

“So,” Your gaze fluttered about his chiseled face as you tried to rectify the now solemn energy at the table. Glancing toward Yuji, you noted that he was still concentrated on his coloring, a crayon clutched in one hand and a fry in the other. Still, you lowered your voice a bit as you leaned in closer to Choso. “How did your rematch go?”

“Thought you said you weren’t into it.” 

“Didn’t say I wasn’t into you.”

This caught him off guard, whatever fleeting confidence he had to banter back and forth with you flying out the window just as your own words processed back to you. For a fleeting moment, you almost allowed yourself to be embarrassed by your own forwardness. Something about how easily he could be rendered speechless made it worth it though. After a moment, his lips twitched up nervously as he tried to reign in control of the conversation once again. 

“Thought you liked assholes.” Choso whispered, praying his little brother wasn’t going to absorb that word into his subconscious to spring on him later. 

Pursing your lips, you looked down at the cracked phone screen that had pulled you out of your stupor just hours prior. The man followed your eyes, taking note of the way you ran your finger absentmindedly down the shattered glass. You didn’t say anything, but he seemed to have heard it all, his face falling in quiet recognition. He had seen it before— that look of silent defeat in your eyes fighting against a cycle all too familiar to him.

“The rematch was good.” He offered with a soft, knowing smile, hoping to pull you from wherever your thoughts had wandered to. You peered back up at him. “Kicked his ass. I can be an asshole too— just… not to you, yeah?”

Choso couldn’t have known how deep his words burrowed themselves into your mind, replaying on repeat that entire drive home as your heart pounded against your chest. He had walked you to your car after dinner, Yuji clinging onto his back as he drifted off into what looked to be a nasty food coma. The look on his face said that he wasn’t sure what to do next, but you could certainly guess what was on his mind. 

So, you were grateful when his little brother stirred away and tugged at his hair, pouting about it being too cold and wanting to go home. The man’s shoulder’s deflated ever-so-slightly, and he offered an apologetic smile and a promise that he’d text you.

You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

Choso Kamo scared you unlike any other raging hot-head had ever managed to in the past. At least with your past… distasteful selections, you could predict their moves, you knew it would only go so far. With him though, you could feel yourself wanting more, because he was sweet and genuine, and he was the type of guy that would make a nest in your heart so as not to disturb your peace rather than shatter it with an attempt to mold it to accommodate the jagged edges he refused to file down.

Without the expected downfalls of the disasters you set yourself up for, how could you prepare yourself if he disappointed you in a way you hadn’t already premeditated? Other men filtered in and out of your life, never leaving an impact heavier than a break of routine in their wake— but Choso? If you allowed him to stay, you knew it would ache in ways you’d never known if Choso left. 

Despite your fear of falling, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him when he texted you later that night asking if you'd made it home, or even the next morning when he wished you a good shift. With each affectionate-smiled reply, you could feel your stomach twisting in fear as you hoped you’d snap out of this haze before the shoe dropped. 

It was the very reason that you hesitated when your phone rang just two days later, his name lighting up your phone at an hour far too late at night to be considered friendly. Blinking back the tired haze in your eyes from staring at your television for too long, you felt that familiar anxiety swimming in your throat. Your thumb trembled nervously as it hovered over the button to accept the call. Shaking off your nerves, you swiped to answer the call. 

“Hey, Cho—”

“Hello?” His voice was panicked on the other line, making you sit up from where you had been vegetating on your couch. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s late— I need your help.”

Muffled in the background, you could hear the distinct wailing of a child you assumed to be his little brother. The sound made you kick the blanket off your lap, already breaking out into a nervous cold-sweat. 

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Yuji— he’s sick, and his fever won’t go down, and he’s not keeping down any of his medicine, and—”

“Okay, calm down.” You cut off his nervous rambling as you shoved your boots on under your fleece pajama pants. “How high is his fever? You should take him to urgent care.”

“I’m trying, h-he has a thing with hospitals.” The man sounded as though he was on the brink of tears, panting subtly in a manner that had you wondering how long he had been wrestling with the boy in order to get him to an urgent care before he gave up and called you. “Please, I don’t know what to do.”

Choso could barely hear your knocking over his brother’s incessant crying, and had he been more alert of his surroundings he would have wondered how in the hell his neighbors hadn’t sent in a noise complaint yet. After nearly a minute with no response, you knocked again, more forcefully this time. 

When he finally opened the door, you would have assumed that he was the one battling a flu— what with his flushed face, disheveled locks, and red waterline. Having to endure his brother’s suffering alone was killing him, and he’d never felt more useless than he did tonight. 

“Choso…” You sighed regretfully, nearly reaching up to pull him into a hug, but he was quickly latching onto your wrist to pull you into the living room where Yuji was bundled up on the couch, his little face flaming with a mix of the exertion from his pained wails and the fever that was still ravaging his system. 

Kneeling down beside the couch, you touched your hand against his forehead. Even with the frigidness that still nipped at your hands from the chill outside, it was clear that he was practically scorching.

“He’s burning up, Choso.” You muttered frantically, making quick work to pull the countless blankets off of him. He was kicking out in protest with each layer you removed, and his brother was quickly moving to push his legs down lest you get kicked in the face. “You need to cool him down.”

“He— he kept shivering…” The man was gulping down tears of frustration, because all he was trying to do was to get him to stop crying. It was breaking his heart with each octave he reached, and he was sure that he’d find a way to make the sun rise early if it meant he could have stopped whatever it was that was making Yuji so uncomfortable. 

“It’s okay,” You reassured, taking note of the fragile emotional state this situation had put him in. It was becoming clearer by the minute that Choso was new to doing this on his own. “We need to put him in a cold bath.”

The man nodded in a haze, reaching down to scoop the flailing boy into his arms as he cried out in protest. You followed closely behind him as he made his way to the bathroom and flipped the light on. 

“I’m cold!” Yuji choked out, only making his brother feel that much more guilty as he pried his clothes off of him. You stepped around him to fill the tub with cool water. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Choso mumbled despondently, dodging each of his kicks with stunning precision. “We’re trying to help you, buddy, okay?”

“What have you given him?” You questioned, finally shedding your puffer jacket you began to sweat with the frantic movements. 

“Nothing, he’s spitting everything out.” Choso’s voice raised in exasperation, though you knew better than to think it was directed at you. 

You paced out the restroom as he lowered Yuji into the frigid water, and you thought surely his throat would start to bleed soon from the way his screams were scratching it raw. It didn’t take long for you to find the medicine cabinet after rummaging through the kitchen, and you made quick work to toss a fever reducer into a plastic bag to begin crushing it. Peeking your head into the refrigerator, you grabbed the carton of apple juice that was sitting on the shelf. Once your child-proof cocktail was thoroughly mixed, you made your way back down the hall.

“Please, Yuji, just sit still.” You heard Choso pleading desperately, followed by the frantic splashes of the attempted escapee. 

“Let me go!”

“It’ll make you feel better—”

“I want Mom!” 

You paused in the doorway at Yuji’s sobbed request, unsure whether or not to intrude. Clutching the cup to your constricting chest, you leaned against the wall just beside the bathroom door as you heard Choso sigh despairingly.

“Mom’s not here, Yuji. We’ve talked about this, please. Don’t do this to me.” His tone wavered notably, and it was clear that the dam holding up the strongest parts of him was weakening by the second, but his younger brother only repeated his request. 

“Yuji,” You called out, finally stepping in to kneel beside Choso. He quickly cast his gaze down, but not before you caught the tears slipping down his face. Brushing back the pink hair that clung to the boy’s forehead as he panted up at you through choked cries, you showed him the cup. “Look, if you drink all your juice then we’ll get your bed nice and ready for you, okay?” 

He sniffled messily as his blubbering slowed, eyeing you skeptically. 

“It’s apple juice, see?” You tilted the cup closer toward him so he could see the familiar yellow color. Noting his apprehension, you leaned in closer to whisper to him in feigned secrecy. “Niichan can’t protect the city if you don’t get better.”

Through dewy hiccups, he slowly released the grip his little hands had on Choso’s wrists to take the cup from you. Beside you, his brother heaved out a sigh of relief watching as he quickly downed the cup, eager to get into his bed and under the covers as promised. The both of you held your breaths until the last drop was sucked up. 

After running a few more handfuls of cold water over his head for good measure, you nodded at Choso to take him out once his skin was finally a bit cooler to the touch. As he dried and dressed his brother back up to prepare him for bed, you busied yourself with cleaning up the puddles of water Yuji’s thrashing had created on the floor of the bathroom. A good couple of minutes had passed before apprehensive footsteps finally made their way back to the bathroom where you remained kneeled on the floor. 

“I’m sorry.” Choso whispered, slowly lowering himself down beside you. 

You peered over at him as he buried his head into his hands. The t-shirt he wore was clinging to his chest as it still dripped with leftover bath water along with the ends of his loose, tousled hair. His shoulders shook every so often with the sniffles he was trying so desperately to conceal, but it had all been too much for him. 

“I know the last thing you wanted to be doing on your day off was working.” He continued as he finally looked up at you, tears of frustration swimming in his dark, tired eyes. “I just— I didn’t know—”

“Choso?” You whispered, resting a careful hand on his raised knee. He blinked at you in question, swiping furiously at the tear that raced down his flushed cheek at the motion. “How… how did you end up with Yuji?”

His eyes quickly fell, observing the way his knuckles whitened as he clenched and unclenched his hands pensively. 

“He’s my half-brother.” He began quietly. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he looked back up at you. “Wanna talk assholes? My step-dad— Yuji’s dad— was just…”

You gulped, watching the way his jaw seemed to clench unconsciously at the memory of him. A gradual sense of dread twisted in your stomach as you began to guess where his story would go. 

“We fought all the time. Our mom hated it, but I couldn’t stand the way he treated her, and it—” Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the ceiling to calm the way his tears seemed to continue to betray him. “It killed me that she let him.”

Your gaze fluttered with their own misty haze as his words sunk in, an unnecessary guilt clawing at your chest. Shuddering away the tremble in his tone, he finally looked back down at you. Swiping at his nose with a quick sniffle, he continued. 

“We got into a huge fight a while after I finished school. He was mad about— god, I can’t even remember what had him so heated, but h-he threw a bottle at our mom.”

“Choso…” You sighed shakily, shifting forward to grasp at his hand. Though he made no attempt to halt his story, he accepted your hand, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as another tear raced down his face. 

“I told him that if he wanted to throw shit to throw it at me.” With red-splotched eyes, he offered a humorless laugh and gestured toward the jagged scar that ran across his face. It was now you who was failing to hold back stinging tears. “I thought after— I don’t know, twenty stitches that she’d leave, but she didn’t. So, I did.”

His head dropped down toward his chest, shaking side to side regretfully. 

“I left. I wasn’t there for her when she died— I wasn’t there for Yuji.” You quickly climbed over to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his face into your chest as you allowed yourself to cry silently along with him. “I left him. He was only three. I left him, I—”

“You came back for him, Choso.” You quickly interjected. 

“I should’ve never left in the first place.” His fingers drifted up to dig into your back as you settled onto his lap. “I thought if I learned how to fight— y’know, got bigger and stronger that he couldn’t hurt me anymore, he couldn’t hurt my mom anymore cause I would finally be able to do something about it, but I was just scared. I was scared, and I left.”

“You were just a kid.” You clarified, sliding your hands down to grip his face and force him to look at you. “And you’re here now.”

The grip you had on his cheeks forced his lips into a smushed pout, his wet lashes emphasizing the dark circles that surrounded his irises. Your thumb grazed gently over the scar on his face, and it broke your heart even more as you pictured it on a smaller, more defenseless version of him. You could see that Choso still ever-present in the fear that lingered in his eyes, in the doubt that clung to his frown that told him that nothing he could do for Yuji would ever be enough. 

“And I’d like to see someone try to lay a finger on Yuji now.” You encouraged with a soft laugh. The tiniest of smiles cracked through his solemn gaze, but he was still searching your eyes with an intensity that nearly knocked you on your ass. 

“Why do you do it?” He questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head at him curiously. “I mean, you have a good job, you’re smart, and pretty, and you’re kind— why give it to people who don’t deserve you?”

His hands dug firmly into your waist as you attempted to lean away from his raw stare. You felt naked— humiliatingly exposed as though you had just been the one to air your dirty laundry out. The hands on your sides drew you in closer and closer with each pathetic open and close of your stammering lips.

“I think I came to terms a long time ago with the fact that I’d never get to understand why my mom stayed. I had to be okay with it.” Choso’s brows were furrowing as his gaze drifted down your face before meeting yours once again. “Then I met you, and… I feel that same frustration I felt when I was a teenager.” 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” The scarred bridge of his nose grazed against yours as the two of you drew closer. With a strained gulp, you shook your head. “Do you—” He paused as his face flushed, but he fought to push past his timid nature. “Do you want someone to be mean to you? Is that what it is?”

“Choso—”

“Because if that’s the case then let it be me, okay?” His plea had you biting back a wanton whine, because his lips were brushing against yours with all the anticipation of a building promise. Your fingers tangled into the drying hair on his nape. “I’ll be rough with you, and I’ll make you want to cry.”

Leaning forward, he slotted his mouth around your pouted bottom lip, pressing you closer against him as you two pulled at one another despairingly. 

“I’ll be an asshole, but I’ll never hurt you— it’ll always be for you. Is that what you want?”

You could only nod hazily, too lost in the desperation in his tone and the craving he’d instilled in you for the lips you’d only come to know just minutes prior. Without so much as a grunt of effort, he was lifting himself off the ground with you in tow, stumbling toward the hallway in a craven pursuit of his bedroom. The hand holding you up against him squeezed vigorously at your ass, pinching at it until you yelped out into his lips.

“Shh, Yuji’s sleeping.” He still had the nerve to chastise you lowly, using your back to press the door shut. 

With you squeezed between him and the door behind you, he allowed his hand to dance up and grip your jaw, hooking his thumb into the corner of it as his forefinger dug into your bottom lip and pried your mouth ajar. You panted against him, eyes half-lidded as you awaited his next move with baited breath, but as he’d promised, it felt as though he wanted you to cry for him, his lips exploring your neck and jaw at an agonizing pace.

“Choso—” Your plea was cut short by your gasp as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder that had been left exposed in the flimsy tank you had been wearing to bed prior to his call. He moaned against your skin, digging his canines ever-so-slightly deeper into the flesh to feel the way you jolted at the sting. “Ah— ahh!”

The man only hummed contentedly, arm hooking under your thighs once again to pry you from the wall and drop you onto the disheveled covers of his bed and pull the damp shirt from his back. He surveyed the way your eyes ran down his body, your reddened lips parted and your brows drawn softly together, and he deduced that he couldn’t possibly look at you if he was to ravage you like he hated you. 

Dipping down, he flipped you easily onto your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants. Pausing for a moment, he leaned down, and you shuddered at the feeling of his warm chest pressing you against the bed.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered into your ear, knowing it would only take a shake of your head for his resolve to crumble. 

Your ribcage expanded and deflated beneath him in tandem with your anticipatory panting, and you could only nod through your flushed face, too embarrassed to confirm your desires aloud, yet your senses too lit ablaze by every inch of muscle you could feel on him to deny yourself the pleasure. There was a longing kiss pressed against your temple— an unspoken promise that he meant it when he said he wouldn’t hurt you— before he slowly pulled away from you to yank your bottoms down. 

Choso bit down on his bottom lip, rough enough to draw blood as he fought to maintain his composure. Running his hands up your thighs until they met the swell of your ass, he raised a knee to rest beside your hip before hiking your ass up. 

“Make me understand it.” He pleaded, a subtle growl laced into his tone as he drew teasingly close to where you were throbbing for him. 

“I don’t know, Choso—” Your voice had raised to an embarrassing pitch as you fisted his sheets between your fingers. They smelled just like him, and it was by no means aiding in your coherent thought process.

“Do you need someone to tell you you’re worth more?” At once, his fingers plunged into your incandescent center, twisting mercilessly as he continued to ration with you. “Because I’ll do it, I’ll remind you every fucking day if I have to.”

But his words were quickly becoming background noise that harmonized sweetly with each of your slack-jawed moans. Reaching back, your fingers barely grazed his wrist in an attempt to gain any semblance of control over his pace, but he quickly collected both your hands in his free one to pin them at the small of your back.

“Is that what you need?” He asked again, and his fingers curled up with a striking precision, drawing a pathetically pitched squeak from the depths of your throat. 

You buried your face into the sheets to conceal the way your eyes began to water at the growing warmth pooling overwhelmingly fast in your stomach. After a moment of your whimpering silence, his fingers abandoned you in favor of a resounding smack against your sensitive core. Your legs seemed to snap shut involuntarily, but it didn’t last long before he pried them open once again. 

“Answer me.” Choso demanded. His tone was barely stern— the fervent desperation to understand more present than anything. He threaded his fingers into your hair to pull your head to the side and reveal your face. “I said is this what you needed?”

“Yes!” You gasped, your hearing feeling as though it had increased tenfold as you listened to his sweatpants rusting while they hit the ground. “Please, please, Choso.” 

Despite his insistence that he’d be rough with you as you so pleased, he couldn’t bring himself to stop the gentle way in which he eased into you, savoring each hitch in your breath. Hooking his arm under your neck, he pulled you up to press flush against his perspiring chest, the slow descent up aiding in burying the last few inches of him into you. 

There was a crack in his resolve, evident in the broken moan that his lips pressed right against your flushed ear. The tears that he had promised you finally slipped down your cheeks. His eyes tracked it with a sharp vigilance, the sight making him pull you in that much closer. With a hand gentler than what he had planned for you, he swiped at the salty stream before allowing his fingers to settle around the column of your throat. 

“Keep crying for me.” 

And he made sure you did, his pace relentless as his sculpted hips slapped against your ass. For each overwhelmed tear of pleasure that escaped you, Choso chased it with a kiss; to your cheek and your jaw, to your helplessly parted lips and temple until there wasn’t an inch of you within his reach that his lips hadn’t become acquainted with. You thought your back would snap in two as you arched against him through your high, yet his furious pace didn’t slow until you slumped back against him, only held up by the hand at your throat and his will. 

The man watched as your head fell back onto his shoulders, eyes half-lidded as they stared at the way his gaze never seemed to falter. Only then did he pause, carefully lowering you to lay on your back against his cool pillows. Crawling over you, it was clear that his intent had shifted with the fulfillment of his goal. 

His hair tickled your cheeks as he leaned down to capture your lips tenderly. Reaching down, he caressed the side of your neck with the same hand he had used to restrain it as he entered you once again, this time with the intent of proving that it didn’t always have to be so merciless. With each purposeful roll of his hips into you he proved that you too were worthy of being handled with all the gentleness he had never been on the receiving end of. 

Choso clung onto you as he finished, and he didn’t leave when you allowed yourself to wrap your arms under his shoulders and press your cheek against his heaving chest. Instead, he pulled the covers up and assured they reached your shoulders that had since broken out into goosebumps— though you weren’t sure you could blame them on the cold. 

He brought your hands up to kiss the parts of your wrists that had been locked in his fierce grip. For the first time in years you weren’t itching to leave before he had the chance to leave you, because all the weight and muscle he’d worked so hard for in order to protect that scared, teenage boy in him were enveloping you with a crushing safety while his faint snores into your ear lulled you to sleep. 

Perhaps Yuji wasn’t so naive in believing his big brother was a superhero.

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[criticalcrusherbot]

Messy but Meaningful: Challenging Pop Psychology’s Unrealistic Expectations of Relationships in Fandom Spaces

By Crushbot 🤖 and Human Assistant 💁🏽‍♀️

The growing tendency in fandom spaces to apply pop-psychology frameworks to fictional relationships—such as Blitz and Stolas’s relationship in Helluva Boss—often oversimplifies the complexities of real-life human dynamics. While using psychological language to analyze media can deepen understanding, it can also lead to reductive and rigid interpretations of relationships. For the sake of argument, if Blitz and Stolas were real people, the expectation that both must be fully healed, emotionally stable, and entirely self-assured before engaging in a relationship reflects an unrealistic and idealized view of mental health and interpersonal growth.

The Myth of Complete Healing

One of the most common misconceptions in pop psychology is the belief that individuals must achieve complete emotional healing before they can engage in healthy relationships. This idea, while well-meaning, is rooted in an overly simplistic view of personal development. From a psychological perspective, healing and self-improvement are ongoing processes. Life circumstances, relationships, and personal challenges continually shape and reshape our mental and emotional landscapes.

Attachment theory, for example, suggests that relationships can be powerful arenas for healing. According to John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, attachment dynamics are formed in early childhood but can be reshaped in adulthood through secure and supportive relationships. Blitz’s and Stolas’s relationship, though imperfect, demonstrates how mutual care and connection can provide opportunities for growth. Stolas’s willingness to be emotionally vulnerable and Blitz’s gradual acceptance of his feelings suggest that their bond is helping each of them confront their emotional barriers, even if they’re not “finished” healing.

Relationships as Sites of Growth

Instead of requiring complete emotional stability as a prerequisite for relationships, many psychological frameworks view relationships as places where healing and growth can occur. In Helluva Boss, Blitz and Stolas’s dynamic reflects this principle. Their relationship, while messy and fraught with misunderstandings, provides opportunities for them to confront their vulnerabilities and develop healthier patterns of intimacy.

This idea aligns with Carl Rogers’s humanistic approach to psychology, which emphasizes the importance of relationships in fostering self-actualization. Rogers argued that empathy, genuineness, and unconditional positive regard are key ingredients for personal growth—and these qualities often emerge in relationships. While Blitz and Stolas struggle with these elements at times, their efforts to connect and communicate demonstrate a willingness to grow together.

The Role of Imperfection in Relationships

Pop-psychology discourse often pathologizes imperfection, labeling any relationship that involves conflict, miscommunication, or emotional baggage as “toxic.” However, conflict is not inherently harmful; it’s how individuals navigate and resolve conflict that determines the health of a relationship. Psychologist John Gottman’s research on marital stability highlights that even successful relationships involve conflict. The difference lies in whether partners approach disagreements with respect, empathy, and a willingness to repair after mistakes.

In the context of Blitz and Stolas, their struggles with power dynamics, vulnerability, and communication do not automatically render their relationship toxic. Rather, their willingness to acknowledge and address these issues—such as Stolas’s attempts to give Blitz more autonomy with the Asmodean crystal or Blitz’s growing emotional openness—suggests a dynamic that is evolving toward greater mutual understanding.

Realistic Expectations for Healing and Change

The expectation that adults must be fully healed and self-assured before entering relationships also neglects the reality that personal growth often occurs within relationships. Social learning theory emphasizes how individuals learn and adapt through observation and interaction. Relationships serve as a mirror, reflecting areas for growth and offering opportunities to practice new behaviors. For Blitz, his interactions with Stolas force him to confront his fear of vulnerability and his tendency to self-sabotage. For Stolas, being with Blitz challenges his understanding of intimacy and forces him to step beyond his royal privilege to engage in genuine emotional connection.

It’s also worth noting that personal growth is non-linear. Progress often involves setbacks, missteps, and moments of doubt. Relationships do not have to be perfect to be worthwhile or beneficial. The process of working through challenges together can strengthen bonds and foster deeper connection.

Rejecting Pop-Psychology Absolutism

The pop-psychologization of fandom spaces often reduces complex dynamics to overly rigid binaries: healthy/unhealthy, secure/insecure, toxic/healing. While these frameworks can offer insights, they risk ignoring the nuance of real-life relationships. Humans are messy, imperfect, and constantly evolving—and so are their relationships. Holding fictional characters (or real people) to unrealistic standards of emotional perfection perpetuates an unhelpful narrative that growth must be completed in isolation, rather than as a collaborative process.

Blitz and Stolas exemplify the idea that relationships can be messy but meaningful. They are imperfect individuals navigating their own traumas and insecurities, yet they are also actively working toward better understanding themselves and each other. This dynamic reflects a more realistic and compassionate view of relationships, one that acknowledges growth as a shared journey rather than a prerequisite for connection.

Conclusion

Expecting individuals to achieve complete healing before engaging in relationships is both unrealistic and at odds with what we know about human development. Relationships, particularly those marked by care and effort, can serve as powerful spaces for growth, healing, and transformation. Blitz and Stolas’s evolving bond in Helluva Boss illustrates this beautifully, showing that imperfection does not preclude progress. By challenging the rigid expectations of pop psychology, we can embrace a more nuanced understanding of relationships—both fictional and real—that values growth, vulnerability, and the shared journey of becoming better together.

[letorip]

Which of Jenna’s characters do you think would be the clingiest? (I loved your headcannons ❤️)

most clingy

this was a very wholesome one to think about, i had great fun. thank you the anon who submitted this. same deal as last time, if you're tl;dr my take is at the bottom

wednesday addams:

she likes to put up a tough front of needing nobody and desiring to be alone, but once she falls for you, it's as bad as morticia and gomez

you live in a room on the other side of campus, and she's made it a habit of sneaking to your room almost every night. she scales the fucking dangerous, rickety old roof to get there each time, but she'll do it, because she'll get to sleep with you

sometimes it's to sleep with you, if you catch my not-so-subtle drift, and then other times it's because she wants to sleep with you

of course, she'll disguise it as "my room has broken air conditioning" or "enid is snoring," and you just smile, nod, and lift the sheets for her to get in

she's not a huge cuddler in the sense that she wants to lay directly on you, but she wants to be around, in the same bed

you do this almost every night, and if you don't, she's knocking on your door right when people are let out of their rooms in the morning to hang out (or make out) before breakfast starts

she's virtually moved in with you, at this point. she has a toothbrush in your bathroom, several outfits in your dresser (in her own drawer), and she leaves dead animal skulls and occult books around to "liven up the place." they definitely don't match your pre-existing decor, but you don't mind because it's wednesday

she's not super fond of pda of any sort, but she'll definitely be right by your side when you're hanging with mutual friends. she'll hold hands under the table or kiss you when there's a private moment, but she's not all over you physically when other people are staring at you both

she does definitely get super jealous

she'll make little comments like "bianca seemed friendly" or "divina finds you awfully funny." if you're tutoring someone in the library, guess who will also miraculously be at the library at the same time? sitting in a chair with a perfect angle of the table you're at and peeking over the top of her book

wednesday is almost always with you, because you're one of the few people she trusts and longs to frequently be with

tara carpenter:

you live with tara and sam, so it makes sense that you and tara slowly grow closer and closer until you start dating

she absolutely loves to have at least one point of contact with you whenever she can. she'll lean against you, lean her head on your shoulder, wrap an arm around you, just let your shoulders touch, or when she really wants to, she'll leave a hand on your knee

when you’re both watching a movie, she’ll cuddle up against your chest and start to fall asleep there, especially if it’s one she’s seen before. you turn the movie off but don’t move, because if you do tara will wake up

during the events of scream vi or any time there’s a ghostface threat levied towards her or sam, she’s especially attached to you. she doesn’t sleep as well and refuses to leave your side, as she’s paranoid ghostface will come to take you from her

you assure her that you’re okay and she can sleep, grabbing her hand and squeezing it three times (i. love. you.). it calms tara down a bit, and though she’s still worried and makes sure the apartment is locked and you’re all safe, it helps her sleep

when things calm down again, she’s not super clingy in the sense that she’s always with you. you’re both in college and have your own classes, and though she wants you near, you both can function as separate people. it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be with you, but your work and school keeps you both a bit more apart during the day

you both text frequently though, not because she doesn’t trust you and wants to be on top of you, but because it’s just nice to hear from you and you both love talking to each other. she’ll send you photos of cute dogs she sees on instagram or a reel she finds funny with a little note at the bottom that says ‘hope your day is going well <3’

tara does get rather jealous at parties. it’s not your fault you’re hot, but when other people approach you to “talk,” 9 times out of 10 you’re too oblivious to realise you’re being hit on

she’ll walk right over to the conversation you’re having with someone random and duck under your arm to wrap it around her shoulders. if that doesn’t work, she also has the tactic of narrowing her eyes, or if she’s feeling especially bold, just grabbing your wrist and dragging you away to shove you down on some random bed

people know in general not to fuck with tara when it comes to you. in a way it makes you her weak spot, but she will absolutely raise hell and stab whoever she needs to, in order to make sure you’re okay

shes definitely a cuddler. she’ll drag you back into bed and wrap an arm around your torso and hold you there. sam always wrinkles her nose whenever she walks past you both cuddled up against each other on the couch after a long day

lorraine day:

you meet lorraine as an actor in the adult films, when she’s still with RJ. it causes a bit of drama when she leaves him for you, but once you and her are officially together she never ever wants to leave your side

it even means she starts acting in them herself, and the best part is that with you, it’s not even really acting. she loves every minute and how free you make her feel, and because she feels it strongest while in your presence, she chases after it all the time

she’s a giant hugger, wether it be side hugging, or wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, to rest her head on your shoulder and watch whatever thing you’re doing

lorraine is so in love, and with you it’s a sweetness that shoots up her veins like heroin. you both eat together, sleep together, work together, and travel together

you always travel together except for once, when you had to go check on your father as his health declined. it was two states away and you went alone, because lorraine was due to keep shooting with jackson, maxine, and bobby-lynne. the entire time you were away after the filming wrapped, she stared out the damn window over the hill, waiting for you to pull up in your truck

it wasn’t long enough a time that she could’ve written a letter, but she felt like a soldier’s wife craving your call

when you got back she ran out to meet you and jumped into your arms. you twirl her around with a laugh and she’s crying into your hands and kissing your palms and then kissing you.

you laugh and say “lorraine, it’s been three days,” but she shakes her head and kisses you again. she’s so happy you’re home you go AT it that night, to the point where wayne knocks on your door to tell you to quiet down

she’s wanted to marry you since the minute she met you, and she tells you as such, even though it’s been a bit over a year

she doesn’t get super jealous, just because she knows fucking other people is just what you do for work. it feels different for you both, when you’re alone and when you’re in front of the camera. you’re both comfortable with yourselves and your relationship, and it’s the comfort she’s always wanted

i’m thinking of hourglass by catfish and the bottlemen, i think that song describes it perfectly

you’re always together, in your own perfect little version of heaven, and while it’s not clinginess from jealousy, it’s clinginess from love and being happy

cairo sweet:

cairo is not clingy whatsoever

not in the sense that she couldn’t give a fuck about you— though she definitely attempted to push that narrative at first— but in the sense that she knows she’s the best and she knows you’re both so incredibly solid. if anything, being apart makes seeing each other even better

she’s a romantic and a rich romantic at that, so whose to say she won’t go on a vacation for a few weeks without warning and then reappear at school for you to ask her where she went

part of her enjoys creating a mystery for you, and making you chase her. she likes the thrill of it, and in a weird way it shows that you care about her enough to find out where she’s been or what she’s doing. it’s somewhat refreshing, considering her parents are so careless and you care so much

she does get jealous when she sees you with other kids. you’re just as intelligent as she is, and you give tutoring advice and run several clubs, so there are always kids who need to speak with you. she knows it’s just part of your role on campus, but it does irk her a bit when she sees you talking to pretty girls who are all too suddenly interested in correcting their math test

most nights between you both are spent at her home, tangled up. she likes to drink wine, but you stay away from alcohol. that doesn’t mean you won’t kiss it off her lips, though

you both are avid readers, so sometimes she’ll lean against you while you both read separate books and sit in silence. it’s peaceful, and cairo always thought she’d want some whirlwind forbidden romance, which is why she’s so surprised she likes the quiet domesticity

she’s definitely somewhat a fan of showy pda in certain situations. she’ll sit on your lap in between classes and wrap an arm around your shoulders, and who’s to say the girl who she caught staring at your lips yesterday wouldn’t come around the corner at the same time to see you there

she makes it perfectly clear she doesn’t depend on you, though. you both exist as separate people. she finds couples joined at the hip as “vapid” and “full of braggadocio.” of course, she’s proud of her relationship with you, but cairo also values her independence and separation

not that many people were even aware you were together officially, until a good three months in. you would argue (flirt) in class during socratic seminars, but most kids thought you both genuinely hated each other

for what it’s worth, you enjoy cairo for all her cairo-isms. it may be cringe to other people, but you do fundamentally understand her in a way no one else really does, just because of how open and honest she is with you. it was a struggle for her at first, but she does appreciate you for it

another one down. really tried to stick to clingy but it definitely branched out to other stuff too because i think there are definitely many ways to be clingy. clingiest, i would say would be lorraine, with tara not falling far behind

[rapha3liii]

Abigail, Emily & Haley! (part 1 of my bachelorette art!)

these are just my personal headcanons, mostly in line with my fic! the surnames are just ones I chose myself because I think these gals deserve a little more character :) Image descriptions and in-image text/captions are provided below!

Leah, Penny and Maru are next! (will get to the dudes eventually)

Abigail Mercer:

20 years old attending online university for Anthropology

tall compared to most villagers, even taller than her parents!

nose and bridge piercing done in Zuzu city

hearts drawn on with eyeliner

tattoo of thorned rose

Sam's old denim jacket, she cut the sleeves off with craft scissors

Amethyst gem-set sword commissioned from Marlon, her parents still haven't found it...

Silver bangle gifted from her mother

belly button piercing done by Emily in Sebastians basement, she definitely didn't get an infection from it-

sword tattoo inspired by the first sword she held

usually accompanied by her fathers retired leather satchel, holding her flute case and cool rocks she finds

her fishnets are the only thing shes ever bought from Joja Online and her dad is still mad about it

second hand doc-martins because her parents refused to spend that much on shoes (I don't blame em...)

Emily Larson

26 years old and the towns resident tailor

always wearing contacts!

average height

has helix, ear lobe and vertical eyebrow piercings

Always changing her hairstyle and colour, but blue seems to stick for longer than most!

She regularly attends ren-faires all over the republic

made this miniature cape for Zuzu ren-faire and hasn't stopped wearing it since...

hoop earrings and favourite lipstick given to her by her girlfriend, Sandy!

Wears lots of rings

obsessed with lantern sleeves!

always has her Nazar pendant on!

Acrylic nails are done by her younger sister, Haley!

exclusively wears gold jewellery

hand tailored dress and shirt

shoes are bought from a vintage clothes boutique in Grampleton

always wears her favourite ruffled petticoat under skirts

Haley Larson

18 years old and newly graduated from highschool, now a freelance photographer

shorter (and cuter!) than most

always wearing baby blue eyeshadow

shell necklace gifted to her by Alex, her best friend

cute face mole!

always wearing her grandma's bracelet

always using extra blush and face shimmer!

flowery blouse made by her sister, Emily

loves wearing mini-skirts, shorts and low-waist jeans!

regularly posts her landscape photography to her blog, and even won a local competition once!

her fav pleated skirt

loves swimming and paddleboarding in the sea by the beach!

despite graduating top of her class, she has little interest in academia - but loves art

really wants an ankle tattoo of a sea-shell!

cute strap heels she stole from her sisters wardrobe (Emily still hasn't realised yet)

[Image 1 ID: A digital drawing of Abigail from Stardew Valley holding a sword. She's smiling, with dark lipstick and purple eyeshadow, and has small hearts drawn on her cheeks in eyeliner. She has a bridge, nose and belly button piercing and blue eyes. She's wearing a sleeveless denim vest, with a black tank top underneath and black denim shorts with purple fishnets underneath. She has a tattoo of a rose on her upper right arm and another of a sword on her inner left calf. She has pointed black nails and two bangles on her right wrist. She has black platform boots and has a freckles all over her body. Her hair is a vibrant purple in waves reaching her lower back. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A digital drawing of Emily from Stardew Valley pinching her dress in both hands in a bowing like gesture. The left side of her head is shaved while the right has straight, blue shoulder length hair. She has purple eyeshadow, pink lipstick and brown eyes. She also has gold helix piercings, a gold vertical eyebrow piercing and golden hoops in her lobes. She is smirking and looking to the right. She is wearing a layered red dress with a long pleated skirt. It has a white ruffled petticoat underneath. Under her red dress is a pink shirt with lantern style sleeves. She has a corset on over the dress with golden buttons and a miniature cape in dark red clasped to her shoulders. Two necklaces are hanging from under her shirt collar, one golden chain and the other a pendent of a 'Nazar'. She has long sharp purple acrylic nails and multiple rings on both of her hands. She is wearing dark red heels with button clasped straps. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A digital drawing of Haley from Stardew Valley standing casually, smiling, with a tuft of her hair inbetween her fingers in one hand and blue eyes. She has golden blonde hair in waves just reaching her upper back. She has locks of hair over both of her shoulders. She has light blue eyeshadow and bright pink blush and lipstick, she also has a mole on her face just above her lips to the right. She is wearing a low crop blue blouse with short sleeves and a white lined flower pattern on it. She has pink nails and is wearing a necklace of a blue sea-shell with a golden chain and a bracelet with a golden chain and heart pendent. Her left arm is holding her hair while her right arm is crossed over her chest and resting on her other arm. She is wearing a pink pleated mini-skirt and blue heels with small straps around her ankles. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A digital drawing with the three previously described characters all standing in a line. The order is Abigail to the left, Emily in the middle and Haley to the right. Each character has their in-game character sprite by 'ConcernedApe' on the upper left to them. The artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is overlayed in three different places on the drawing. /. End ID]

This my first time ever writing image descriptions so please tell me how I did! I read some other blogs and advice prior to writing my own but I understand its likely I got some things wrong! Please let me know if I've formatted or written something in a way that makes the descriptions innacessible! Thankyou

[cacoetheswriting]

what if i told you that part three is almost finished? only like two years too late, but i wanted to wrap their story up in a way they deserved, and up until a few weeks ago, i really wasn’t in the right headspace to do so .. anyway, to the few that are waiting, thank you for being so patient with me <3

a mutually assured attachment, masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader summary: you waltzed into bucky's life completely unexpected. occupying the apartment across from his and his heart. warnings: set post endgame and before tfatws, a lovely little slow burn, therapy positive, emotional hurt / comfort, mutual pining, adult dialogue, use of pet names, mentions of food and alcohol consumption, mainly fluff and idiots being idiots - each part will also have its own warnings.

a/n: just wanted to quickly clarify the main story will have three parts, but i will also be posting blurbs here and there which will fit into the overall dynamic. i really hope you enjoy this mini series and don't be afraid to tell me what you think!

-

part one: the beginning of a friendship, or something more.

part two: trust and other dangerous feelings.

movie nights: a few months in the life of bucky and his lovely neighbour, as they watch various movies together.

stargazing: bucky and reader watch the “stars”, and get a little closer in the process.

part three

-

main masterlist

[stellarsecrets86]

Venus in Signs of Groom Persona Chart

🐝🐝Valentine's Readings Are Open. Here

{PS: For entertainment purposes only.Have fun💚}

(Venus in groom pc reflects love, attraction, beauty, and how he shows affection or desire for someone. It is a reflection of how one approaches romance, receives, and enjoys his pleasures and what attracts him to his romantic partner. The sign of Venus in marriage also means growing in harmony, intimacy, and common joy with one's partner. Venus's position in the signs gives insight into the groom's style of romance, what he values, and what kind of dynamics he brings into the relationship.)

Other posts you might like

Masterlist

Vedic Masterlist

Venus in Aries

Venus in Aries faces love passionately, enthusiastically, and with a bold sense of adventure. He is very straightforward in his pursuit of romance, and he values a relationship that is exciting and energetic. He is fascinated by the pursuit and seeks a self-assured, energetic partner that shares his intensity. Married, he brings a spontaneity to the marriage and maintains the excitement within the relationship, though patience and compromise may be a further development he needs to attain. His partner will be grateful for his honest and uninhibited love, though will also need to help him funnel this impulsive tendencies into constructive ways of showing his love.

Venus in Taurus

He is a very romantic, sensual groom who seeks stability in love kind of husband. He needs someone to create emotional and physical security in his life; he is the type of person who thrives by building on trust and loyalty. A married Venus-in-Taurus man is attentive; he especially loves making his surroundings warm, comforting, filled with love, and beautiful. He is tactile in showing love-thoughtful acts, gifts, and service. However, this love of routine can also make him change-resistant, and his partner may have to encourage flexibility. His commitment and grounding energy make him a reliable and nurturing husband.

Venus in Gemini

He is charming, witty, and intellectually curious in love. He values communication and mental stimulation, often seeking a partner who will engage him in lively conversations and share his curiosity for life. He is playful and adaptable in his marriage, possibly not consistent with emotional depth and perhaps getting easily bored. His partner would need to keep the relationship busy and stimulating while motivating him to tap more intimate emotional levels. A placement that makes the bridegroom attach as much importance to friendship and mental compatibility as to the intimacy of marriage.

Venus in Cancer

Venus in Cancer makes him caring, intuitive by emotions, and deeply interested in creating a loving home. He seeks someone who values emotional security and family life with the same urgency as he. In marriage, he shows love through care, protection, and acts of devotion. But his sensitivity can easily render him moody or emotionally clingy, and his spouse will have to reassure him while encouraging healthy boundaries. He is a very committed husband and does well in a relationship where emotional closeness and mutual support are essential.

Venus in Leo

He is charismatic, romantic, and loves to express his love in grand, dramatic ways. He wants a partner who looks up to and appreciates his generosity and flair for romance. In marriage, he is loyal and brings warmth, excitement, and passion into a relationship. He may, however, be proud or in need of constant reassurance, and his partner will find themselves balancing his ego with gentle grounding. This placement is a very dedicated husband, who flourishes in a relationship that feels unique and filled with mutual admiration.

Venus in Virgo

Venus in Virgo brings a spouse who is practical, humble, and loves through acts of service and attention to detail. He looks for an appreciative partner who realizes how dependable and responsible he can be in supporting a relationship. Marriage finds him considerate of the needs of his spouse and attempts at their betterment, even at the cost of some self-sacrifice. But he may be overly critical of his actions, or even raise his expectations too high, and his partner will have to remind him about the need to kick back and get emotionally spontaneous. He is a deep and secure husband, who values commitment and mutual goals.

Venus in Libra

Venus in Libra is romantic, tactful, and very appreciative of harmony in his intimate relationships. He seeks a partner who shares his love of beauty, proportion, and mutual consideration. In marriage he is sensitive, gracious, and strives to maintain harmony and rapport. This can suppress his feelings and make it hard for him to come to decisions, though. His wife will have to promote open communication while appreciating his romantic gestures and polished sense of love. This placement does promise a husband who is fair-minded and puts much effort into establishing a harmonious and rewarding partnership.

Venus in Scorpio

In groom pc,Venus in Scorpio is passionate, intense, and serious about love. He wants a partner who can match his emotional depth and shares his desire for profound intimacy. Married, he is loyal and brings transformative energy into a relationship, often putting emotional connection above everything else. Still, this intensity could spill over into possessiveness or issues of trust. His partner will have to honor his depth and also help him with emotional openness and mutual understanding. This placement presents a husband who is intensely dedicated and who esteems a relationship that surpasses the superficial.

Venus in Sagittarius

Venus in Sagittarius is adventurous, optimistic, and freedom-loving in love. He needs a partner who shares his zest for life and enjoys exploring new experiences together. In marriage, he brings excitement, humor, and a philosophical approach to the relationship. He may have commitment phobia or prefer independence rather than emotional intimacy. His partner will need to learn to appreciate his adventurous nature while, simultaneously, nurturing an emotionally intimate environment. This placement belongs to a husband who brings expansion and joy to the partnership by respecting shared beliefs and goals.

Venus in Capricorn

Venus-in-Capricorn in groom pc is mature, stable, and committed to a lifelong love. He wants a partner who would appreciate his commitments and realism in building up their life. He is steady and supportive in marriage, considering security and accomplishment the important aspects of one's married life. He may have troubles being openly demonstrative or putting too much weight on material security. His wife should help him balance out his ambitions and emotional closeness with shared joys. This placement would therefore suggest a husband who is deeply committed to the stability and growth of the relationship.

Venus in Aquarius

In the groom pc, Venus in Aquarius is unconventional, innovative, and values individuality in love. He searches for a partner who shares his progressive ideals and enjoys exploring new ideas together. He is open-minded in marriage, encourages independence for his spouse, and prioritizes intellectual connection. He may struggle with being detached emotionally and/or favor the mind over emotions. A partner would enjoy his perspective while also nudging him toward sharing more emotions. Your husband is freedom-loving, easygoing, egalitarian, and respectful in your relationship.

Venus in Pisces

Venus in Pisces is ultraromantic, dreamy, and ultra-highly empathetic as a lover. He wants a partner who will share his idealistic vision of love and thus create a spiritual and emotional bond. He brings tenderness, creativity, and selflessness into a marriage, often putting the needs of his spouse before his own. Sensitivity makes him susceptible to the possibility of escape or taking unrealistic views. His partner should provide grounding energies while appreciating his romantic and imaginative nature. This placement presents the husband who values deep emotional connectivity and thrives in a relationship filled with love and compassion.

✨✨

[Each sign of Venus represents the unique approach the groom has to love and partnership, showing the way he nurtures romance, intimacy, and shared joy in marriage.]

[genderkoolaid]

i’ve been seeing that “nooo tboy mutual don’t reblog that transandrophobia post, there are so many other non-reactionary frameworks that you can use to understand your experiences” post go around (unfortunately from. a lot of my mutuals.)

and it’s really frustrating to me bc like. i would love to hear them!!! i would love to discuss different lenses of viewing the specific kind of oppression that transmascs face, i would love to learn about different perspectives!!

but so much of what’s out there either 1) doesn’t include us at all or 2) insists that our oppression isn’t anything more than transphobia, or that it’s just misdirected transmisogyny, or that it’s just transphobia and misogyny, but no discussion of how transphobia and misogyny interact to specifically impact transmascs. it just feels so disingenuous and dismissive because whenever we talk about our experiences, no matter what language we use, we’re shut down over and over and over again.

Godddd I saw that post the other day and could not help but roll my eyes. Saying there's "so many other frameworks" to use disregards a fundamental reason why this framework is being created in the first place: transmascs, across different ages and races and other variables, feeling silenced and absent in other models of society, even those claiming to be for trans-feminist. Like if you are trying to convince trans guys to not use the term transandrophobia maybe start by acknowledging the absence of proper frameworks to discuss the unique position of trans men & mascs. & you know damn well none of these people will acknowledge how every other iteration of "transandrophobia" ALSO got shut down for being Problematic™, including "isomisogyny" which was literally just misogyny with a prefix attached to assure cis women that we would never DARE to imply that transmascs might be oppressed by the same social force as them!

But that's the problem with people trying to make the discussion of anti transmasculinity palatable! They want to have a version of this discussion that isn't threatening at all to the deeply ingrained anti (trans)masculinity in queer spaces. Literally any criticism, no matter how lukewarm or carefully handled, is labeled "reactionary." After you get rid of everything that people hate about transandrophobia theory you are left with none of the things that make it valuable to transmascs + everyone else who benefits from this discussion.

[cinnamonest]

What if Darling is the one trying to control her partner? She’s an overly naive and self-assured girl who suddenly decides she wants to mess with the feelings of an attractive man. She’ll try to manipulate, intimidate, and gaslight him until he breaks.

I’m dying how I want to see that sweet surprise in her eyes when she realizes she was the victim all along. A good, kind man suddenly shows his true face. He endured all her abuse just to trap her. How ironic!

Maybe it’ll be Zhongli - charming and courteous but actually hiding a creepy dark side. Or Childe - a guy who hides a lot of dark desires behind a carefree smile.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA anon this is stewing in my brain, because imagine Morax in his peak era when he would come down amongst the humans...

Some manipulative foreigner girl who travels from place to place, manipulating and bleeding men dry for as long as you stay there, only to disappear and go on to somewhere else once you've gotten everything he has. Never wanting to commit, always wanting more.

Men essentially take care of your travel expenses too — it's easy to use them for free lodging, food, and so on. You rarely pay for anything in life, other than the luxuries you get yourself with their money.

So when you arrive, you latch onto the first attractive stranger you see on the street, and he's more than receptive. He finds you endearing. It's very easy. You just notice the positive reception and immediately lay on the flirtation much thicker, and soon enough you're walking arm in arm around the harbor to show you around... in truth, you've been here before, but playing the clueless foreigner role always endears you to men, and it boosts their ego to feel like they're knowledgeable and helpful.

He falls for your tactics so easily, so it seems. Going along with whatever you want, immediately trying to placate you when you're mean and cold, bending to your will when you insinuate that you'll leave if he doesn't do this or that.

And he has so much money. You weren't expecting to score this lucky. You're not even sure where he's getting it from, it seems like he just keeps pulling it out of nowhere. Every time you even look at something, he's already pulling out more to buy it for you, all day long, until you go back to get a place at a nearby inn.

Of course, it's mutually understood and unspoken that with these sorts of exchanges, he's supposed to get sex out of it. That much you're willing to give, it would admittedly be difficult even for you to keep extracting money from men if you didn't at least put out eventually.

Often times it's disappointing, but thankfully this one is good in bed too. You feel like you couldn't get any luckier.

He feels the same way. Who would have thought that the same girl that all those used, discarded, distraught men pleaded about in prayers to their god, would show up yet again in this place, and such convenient timing too.

You've caused a good deal of both financial ruin and heartbreak alike, and he doesn't take too well to your promiscuity either. It would be an injustice to allow you to simply get away without due punishment.

Keeping you works out well. Those men who wanted revenge will at least have their prayers answered, you will be unable to wreck any more lives, and he gets a little gem in the rough, so to speak. Something that just has to be broken apart and fixed with enough effort, slowly worked into something perfect to own. It's more fun that way.

So he stays silent when you suddenly disappear, when you turn cold, when you brush him off. It's actually both good and bad for you— usually they get so angry, so it's good he wasn't too attached, but the pitiful ones usually let you extract just a bit more in hopes of getting you back, and you're actually rather frustrated when he just lets you leave, you huff and go back to your hotel, this time unfortunately having to pay for it.

But then, you're a little bewildered when you wake up somewhere different than where you fell asleep, somewhere you're unfamiliar with. You panic when you find yourself bound to the bed by a chain on your ankle. You panic worse when you see him looking over you, that malevolent grin — did he always have those teeth?

Yes, it's so adorable when your eyes well up with tears. He did like you in the first place for how cute you are, after all. You'll be a lot cuter when you cry — something he'll have plenty of opportunities to watch in the very near future.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Five

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, oral (fem!rec), mutual masturbation, lots of ogling, romantic Javi will be the death of me, dirty talk, little bit of angst thrown in, reader's never experienced oral, think that's it for now

word count: 4k

series masterlist

You didn’t attend Dr. Peña’s office hours that day, too exhausted by your crumbling social life to deal with whatever it was he wanted to talk about with you in private. Instead, you spent the night grocery shopping, decorating your new place, and getting a jump start on Dr. Arman’s research paper due in a few weeks. 

By the time you were in bed and began to mindlessly scroll on your phone, it was nearing midnight. As you scrolled through pinterest finding sad quote after sad quote to make your sadness feel a little less isolating, an email notification lit up your screen. You clicked on it, finding a message from Dr. Peña.

Please set up an appointment with me to discuss your grade. 

Dr. Javier Peña

jpeña@utlaw.edu

555-268-8521

You narrowed your brows at the message—what was he talking about? You quickly opened the online portal to check your grade, finding it in near-perfect standing. Flipping back to the email, you read it over again before locking eyes on his phone number, bolded in bright red. Chuckling at his use of coded messaging, you copied the number and added it to your contacts as Javier just in case someone decided to snoop around. 

Biting your lip, you let your fingers hover over your keyboard, unsure of what to say, or if he even wanted you to message him. But he had to, right? No one highlighted shit in red if they didn’t mean to draw attention. 

You settled on something simple, something that couldn’t possibly be misconstrued if an outside party were to see it. 

You: Hey, it’s…

You: You emailed about setting up an appointment?

You waited what felt like a lifetime, choosing to spend those torturous minutes anxiously scrolling through your feed until your phone buzzed with an alert. 

Javier: So formal. 

You rolled your eyes. 

Javier: Why didn’t you show up today?

You: Too tired.

Javier: You still tired? 

You bit your lip as his words sent a thrilling ache between your thighs. 

You: Depends.  

Javier responded only with an address, one that looked to be attached to an apartment complex in the nice part of town. With your heart racing with excitement and head screaming with caution, you decided that you’d earned a bit of recklessness. You’d done everything you needed to do today, so why not do something you wanted to do?

You thanked the skies for convincing you to pamper yourself earlier with an everything shower as you slipped into a much less comfy pair of underwear, choosing to keep your hoodie and leggings on rather than dressing to impress. After all, there was a good chance your hopes would come crashing down if he truly only meant to talk. 

The drive to his place was spent singing along to your favorite album, hoping to drown out the alarm sounds in your head that seemed to scream, idiot!

You pulled into the gated complex, punching in the code he’d sent to you before making your way through the gates. You parked your beat up car in a visitor spot, headlights illuminating a man smoking a cigarette in that black leather jacket you could still feel wrapped around your shoulders. Javier. 

He watched you as you climbed out of the car, hands trembling with nerves. 

“Hey,” you breathed, giving him a nervous smile. Javier’s smile was a lot more confident, causing a dimple to form in his left cheek. 

“Hey,” he replied, ashing out the cigarette on the trash can beside him before approaching you. “You look cozy. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Should I take that as an insult?” you joked. 

“No,” he assured, his smile softening to something so affectionate it made your heart race. “I like you like this.”

You flushed, dropping your eyes to the pavement beneath your feet. Javier surprised you by lifting his hand to your chin, gently guiding your eyes back to his. “This isn’t a good idea,” he husked, eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “But fuck me, I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Your lips parted as he stepped closer, his hand shifting to cradle your cheek, his thumb stroking across your skin. 

“But first, I wanted to introduce you to someone,” he said, letting his hand fall to his side. Tipping his head in the direction of the lobby, he urged you to follow him. 

Who the fuck did he possibly want to introduce you to? His secret family?

Javier opened the door with a smug look, furthering your confusion until the old woman—who looked around the age of seventy—behind the front desk popped up with a smile. 

“I didn’t see you sneak out, Javi,” she smiled, batting her eyes at him. “You got a secret exit I don’t know about, honey?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, Jeannie, now would it be?” he crooned, turning to you. “This was the friend of mine I wanted to introduce you to. She’s run the complex for how long now, Jeannie?”

“Thirty years,” she replied, both pride and exhaustion in her tone. “Thirty years and no goddamn retirement in sight.”

You gaped at Javier, his brow raising and smirk spreading into a full on dimpled-grin. Quickly turning to Jeannie, you chuckled and shook your head at yourself. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeannie,” you smiled, giving her your name. 

“You too, sweetie,” she said. “Y’all have a good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not saying much, Jeannie,” Javier teased, resting his hand on your back as he guided you to the elevator. 

You kept quiet until you were inside the privacy of those four walls. “So you finally figured it out.”

“Well, I figured it out when you slammed my car door on me,” he chuckled, standing close enough for you to smell his cologne. You stepped closer to that scent of warmth and comfort, brushing your arm against his. “Thought I’d clear the air this way since you stood me up earlier.”

“I didn’t stand you up,” you laughed. “I just…I don’t know. Needed some time away from everything.”

He hummed his response, waiting for the bell to chime, signaling your arrival to the third floor, before leading you out and down the hall to his apartment. As he put his key in the lock, he turned to you with a half-smile. “You sure you want this?”

“Depends on what this is,” you replied. Javier smiled, shaking his head before opening the door to his place. He let you walk in ahead of him, the door shutting and locking behind him. 

“This is…I don’t know,” he sighed, though it sounded less like frustration but more along the lines of hesitant acceptance. “Me throwing caution to the wind, I guess.”

“Just you?” you asked, turning away from the black and brown abstract painting on the wall of his living room to look at him over your shoulder. He looked at you with such unabashed desire as he carefully stepped into your space until his chest was nearly pressed against your back. 

“Us, then,” he whispered, slowly dragging his fingertips up the length of your arm, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. Your breath hitched as he leaned in to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Do you know how much space in my mind you’ve taken up? Without doing anything more than existing.” 

You turned to face him, your hands settling on his chest before sliding up to the nape of his neck. Javier’s brow furrowed as he watched you study his features, committing each one to memory in case tonight was all you’d ever have with him. “Only seems fair that I’m on your mind as much as you’re on mine.”

Javier groaned softly, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards, sandwiching you between his body and the back of his sectional. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, licking his lips as his eyes fell to yours. “These fucking lips that’ve been calling my name since the first time I saw you.”

You let out a soft breath, nodding your head quickly, as if he’d change his mind if you didn’t reply quick enough. Javier smiled, something fleeting and rooted in affection before crashing his lips against yours. You moaned at the taste of cinnamon blended with a hint of the cigarette he’d been smoking when you pulled into the parking lot. 

What started out as cautious quickly turned into something needy, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer to his frame. You gasped into his mouth as he pressed his generous arousal against you, your center aching to feel him without the layers between you. 

“Javi,” you panted out the nickname, relishing in the groan it elicited. Javier was quick to pull away, his dark eyes lust blown and wild as he lifted a hand to your face. 

“What do you want, cariño?” he rasped, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip as though to worship it. “Hm?”

It took you a few seconds to register what he’d said, your mind preoccupied with fantasy after fantasy that finally felt possible. 

“You,” you replied, soft and breathy. “Your lips, your tongue, your fingers, your…”

“My what?” he coaxed, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Lowering your hand down his chest and stomach, you let your palm rest against his arousal, giving him a gentle squeeze that made him curse. “This. This is what I want.” 

“Fuck me,” he swore, taking a step away from you before entering a pace. He raked his hand across his face as he seemed to mull things over, meanwhile you were left standing there, panting like an idiot while replaying the interaction in your head. 

Was it your touch that spooked him? Oh god, did he not want to be touched? Perhaps you were no better than Derrick, so blinded by desire and longing that you acted before asking. 

“Javi, I—“

“If we do this,” he started, stilling his pacing to give you a stern look. “It’s a one time thing. You and I will go about our lives as normal. You can continue to TA for me if you want, or I can try to transfer you to another professor.”

“I don’t want that,” you blurted, too lost in lust to think clearly. “One time. Get it out of our systems.”

Javier chuckled, as if he had foresight into how this all played out. He could’ve seen a happy ending, the two of you reminiscing on this very moment, laughing at the idiots you once were to ever think for a minute it would only be a one time thing. Or, more realistically, he imagined the two of you awkwardly dealing with the existence of the other with forced greetings and a hidden longing that felt more like a haunting. 

Whatever scene he saw, it didn’t prevent him from sauntering back to you, from kissing you like a sailor greeting his wife after being away at sea for years, from guiding you into his bedroom, and you didn’t dare break the magic of the moment by asking.

Javier backed you against the wall, his thigh slotting between yours. His lips traveled the line of your neck, teeth grazing across your racing pulse only to soothe over the tender flesh with his tongue. 

“If you knew the things I’ve imagined…” His words trailed off into a dark chuckle as his hands slid up your side to cup your breast through your shirt. He groaned at the lack of a bra, his hips pressing into yours as he swiped his thumb across your peaked nipple. “You proud that you’ve broken a good, honorable man? That the sight of you in those fucking skirts made me insane enough to consider fucking you right on my desk?”

“Sort of,” you admitted, earning a genuine laugh. You smiled at him as he pulled back, lifting his hand to hold your face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The way he looked at you almost made your heart stop. You’d never been looked at like that before, with respect, affection, and genuine interest. It had only been lust before this, or worse, pity. The girl who stayed loyal, who allowed a man to walk all over her for years on end. 

“Just admiring,” he shrugged, giving you a casual purse of his lips. “Clever, brave, resilient, and so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

You couldn’t take hearing anything that sincere from him, not when it was all you ever wanted to hear, not when you knew it would all be over tomorrow. You tugged him back in for a kiss, hastily shedding his jacket in the process. Javier moaned into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hoisting your thigh over his hip. 

You moved on to the buttons of his shirt as he mouthed his way down your neck to your chest, his greedy hands palming every soft bit of flesh he could find. 

“Take this off,” you demanded, your fingers too shaky to unfasten the buttons. Javier pulled away from you to do just that, his chin nudging at you as if to say, you too. You peeled off your hoodie, earning a groan from Javier as he unbuckled his belt, his eyes eating up the sight of your bare breasts. “Fuck me, you’d turn Christ himself into a sinner.”

You ignored the butterflies his praises stirred in your belly as you peeled off your leggings and underwear in one fluid motion, leaving you completely bare—and for once in your life, confident—in front of him. Javier abandoned undoing the button of his jeans in favor for coming back to you, both hands cradling your face as he backed you against the wall again. 

“One night,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “We’ll fucking see.”

You slid your hand down his stomach to the button of his jeans, undoing it with only a little bit of trouble. Javier’s lips never left yours as you tugged the zipper down before slipping your hand inside. You both moaned at the feeling of your hand meeting his bare flesh, swallowing down the sounds of mutual pleasure. 

God, he was big. Bigger than anyone you’d ever been with before. 

“You’re going to ruin me for all men,” you purred into the air as he focused his lips, teeth, and tongue on your pulse again, your hand slowly pumping his shaft as best as you could given the way his body was pressing you into the wall. 

“I’ve always been an overachiever,” he replied, his smirk growing against your skin as he placed one last soft kiss against your pulse before kneeling down in front of you. You kept your eyes locked on his as he guided your calf to rest over his shoulder, his lips pressing their way up the inside of your leg. 

This was better than your favorite fantasy. It hadn’t managed to get the brown of his eyes, the rough warmth of his hands, the sinful scrape of his mustache across your soft skin right. In fact, now that you were witness to the real thing, the fantasy seemed like nothing more than a cheap knock-off.

“Javi,” you cautioned, remembering one critical detail about the fantasy. The fact that you’d never actually had this done to you before. All the sex and sin you’d gotten up to in your life, but never this. Selfish fucking men. 

“What,” he hummed lazily against your skin, now kissing your inner thigh. 

“You don’t have to,” you replied, nothing more than a whisper. Javier shook his head at you, gently nipping at your sensitive flesh. 

“Don’t have to, but fuck me, I want to,” he rasped, lathing his tongue over where he’d just given you a lovebite. You gently raked your hand through his hair, bringing his eyes away from your aching center and back to yours. 

“I’ve had this exact fantasy since the first day of class,” you admitted, biting your lip. “It’s been my favorite thing to think about when I touch myself.”

Javier groaned, desperate and wrecked. 

“Can you make it as good as my fantasy?” you asked, your voice a seductive purr. 

There was something about this—Javier on his knees, practically begging to taste you—that felt so much more empowering than you’d ever felt before with a sexual partner. How you’d ever go back to more age appropriate men, you weren’t sure. 

“You’re…” He cut himself off, shaking his head before leaning closer to where you practically dripped with need. “I’ll give you something real to fantasize about when you touch yourself, cariño.”

You smiled at the promise, only for it to fall as your jaw went slack at the feeling of Javier’s tongue licking a broad stripe up your seam. You furrowed your brows as you looked down to watch him, his eyes closed as he tugged you closer to his mouth. His tongue swirled around your bud, over and over, making you pulse with each passing swirl. You gripped onto his hair to keep him there, guiding him as his tongue dipped lower to your entrance to drink up your arousal with a sinful groan. 

“So fucking sweet,” he praised, pulling back to marvel at your swollen pussy with a look of awe. “I need you on the bed.” 

You nodded, springing into action and practically leaping into his king-sized mattress. You crawled back on your elbows until you reached the pillows, watching as Javier finally kicked off his jeans, finally taking in the full sight of his cock. You actually began to salivate at the sight of him, long and thick and angry with need. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on you as he stroked himself with his fist. You slipped your hand down to your clit, rubbing it in time with his lazy strokes, and quickly realized you could get off from this alone. 

“That’s it,” he husked. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

You moaned, slipping your fingers lower to curl inside yourself. There was something so holy about this sinful act. The way he watched you, the worship and reverence in his stare as you got off to the sight of him getting off to the sight of you. All of it was holy, and all of it was forbidden. 

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, the words causing you to pulse around your fingers. 

Javier seemed to have gotten his fill of watching as he climbed onto the bed, making himself at home between your thighs. You slipped your fingers out and moved to law them to the side, but he stopped you, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean while you watched him with a slack jaw. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, brows pinching together. Javier kissed the inside of your palm before setting it down against his cool sheets. 

“Is this how you imagined it?” he asked, kissing your inner thigh. 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, combing back the waves that had fallen across his forehead. Javier keened under your touch as he inched his way back to your center. Locking his eyes with yours, you watched him turn your fantasies into reality—those brown eyes finally meeting yours just as you’d imagined. 

“You taste so good,” he praised, bringing two fingers up to stroke up and down your seam before dipping into your entrance. He met your eyes in a silent confirmation of consent. You nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Javier let out a soft sigh as he slipped his fingers inside of you, curling them up to press against the spot no man had ever been able to locate before. You moaned, your head falling back against his pillows as he paired his tongue with the perfectly timed thrust of his fingers. 

“Fuck,” you whined, holding him close as he started to suck on your swollen bud, his fingers curling in and out with almost embarrassing ease as you neared your end—the first one you’d ever shared with a sexual partner. “Javi, fuck. You’re gonna make me come.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating against you as he doubled down in his efforts. Your thighs shook, your face crumpled in ecstasy as the thread of tension inside you finally snapped. Javier kept your thighs spread as they threatened to close around his head, his tongue turning gentle as he coaxed you back to earth. 

“That’s the first time someone’s ever made me come,” you panted, guiding him up for a dizzying kiss that tasted of your arousal. Javier’s hands gripped at your hip, guiding your leg to wrap around his waist. 

“Fucking idiots,” he sighed, pressing a kiss over your racing heartbeat. “Their loss.”

You nodded in agreement, your hand cradling the sharp line of his jaw as he focused his mouth on your breast. “I’d…be down for another.”

He laughed, resting his head on your chest. 

“As much as I want to, I think maybe it would be best if we just…didn’t,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes. You tried not to pout, to demand that he take as much as he just gave, but all you could do was give him a soft nod. “I want to, believe me. But it would just—“

“Make things more complicated,” you guessed, unable to look him in the eye. “I know.”

He tutted at you, turning your chin so that you were forced to face him. “I loved tonight, loved doing this with you. Under any other circumstance, I’d be happy to keep you in this bed for days, but—“

“It’s okay,” you managed, giving him a sad smile. “I’m glad we had this, at least.”

He nodded, resting his head against your chest again.

“I should go,” you said, the lump in your throat roughening the sound of your voice. 

“You don’t have to,” he replied, placing a tender kiss to your chest. 

“I know, but…it’s torture staying,” you confessed, trying your best not to cry. “Like flaunting food in front of someone starving.”

Javier sat back on his knees, smoothing his palms up and down your still-spread thighs. “I’m not…trying to torture you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Still, it’s…”

“Yeah,” he agreed on the unspoken. “It is.”

You let out a huff of a chuckle, hoping it would mask the ache in your chest threatening to consume you. “Guess I’ll see you in class, then?”

“Front and center, I hope,” he smiled, backing off the bed to give you space to get up and get dressed. “And no skirts, for Christ’s sake.”

“Mm, suddenly skirts are all I own,” you joked, shooting him a more genuine smile from over your shoulder as you slipped into your leggings. 

“Cruel woman,” he chided playfully, watching you from his seat at the foot of the bed. “Cruel, beautiful woman.”

After Javier led you out of the building through the back exit to avoid Jeannie, you bid him an awkward farewell, holding in your tears until you were in your car. You spent the commute from his place to yours sobbing over a man you could never have, one that was everything you ever wanted. You made a pit stop at a gas station to buy some comfort snacks and an ice-ee in hopes of soothing the ache in your chest, but the truth was there was no escaping the impact of Javier Peña on your soft, longing heart. 

You only hoped the recovery would be quick, the wound of losing him before you ever had him fading into an almost unnoticeable scar on your heart.