#and actually now i'm thinking of ways i could do that

[soldiersgirl]

your latest posts have me thinking of ben with a perv younger gf reader that has too much energy and talks his ears off for fun 😩

she matches his freak so well that sometimes he's a little dumbfounded ughh

this INSPIRED ME to write a small drabble for it, i just couldn't resist bc she is me and i'm her

summary — just annoying the grandpa x

cw — reader x soldier boy. smut 18+ (if you squint), cursing, flirting, drinking, sarcasm, teasing, billy and hughie make a small appearance.

word count — 1690 words

sure, flirting had been different when ben was younger, but this? the modern way of flirting? even he was out of his depths at times and that certainly took some serious skill and courage to silence him.

it had all started innocently when butcher had reached out to you for a "favour", as he called it. so what, a guy saves your life once and now you owe him? fuck sake.

"babysitting? do i look like a teenager trynna earn some pocket money?" you groan on the phone to butcher.

"listen love. easy gig, quick cash. it couldn't be any fucking simpler. you just need to keep the git alive and out o' trouble, yeah? even you could fucking figure that out." he mumbles in reply.

"what do i get out of it?" you huff as you bend down to tie your shoes, knowing you were going to agree to it, no matter what, but why not tease billy while you're at it?

"get out of it? the cheek on you is astounding. fuck, listen. you get to fuckin' relax and i'll pay for your bloody dinner and give you 100 for it, alright?"

"alright, alright." you hold your phone between your head and shoulder as you pull on your jacket. "text me the address and i'll be there in twenty." you replied. billy merely groaned and then the dial tone. "dick." you scoffed before checking your texts, pulling on your headphones and heading out into the wild jungle of new york.

much to your surprise, your "favour" wasn't as small as billy had made it sound on the phone when you finally showed up at the dingy apartment, alongside him and hughie. you step inside and immediately the smell of sex, weed and fast food overwhelms you as you gaze around at the abandoned take-away boxes and half-drunk whiskey bottles. a towering figure wanders out from the bedroom dressed in grey sweatpants and a new york giants button up t-shirt and a lit joint dangling from his lips. your eyes connect, mirroring the same expression of confusion and disbelief.

"who the fuck is this?" the man huffs as he takes a hit from his thick joint and studies you.

"yeah, butcher..." you turn and cock your head at him in disbelief. "who the fuck is this?" you jut your thumb behind you and hear him let out a low chuckle before both him and butcher erupt into a fit of laughter. you stare at hughie for an ounce of help but he looks equally as uncomfortable as you. "billy, when you said babysit, i thought you meant for a fucking 5 year old or something!"

"alright sweetheart, i am 105 so, close enough and i don't need no cock-suckin' babysitter anyway." he swaggers closer and sits down at the cluttered, rickety kitchen table and takes a swig of the closest whiskey bottle.

"you're literally not helping the situation, grandpa." you turn and sneer at him. he only guffaws and inhales more of his joint.

"what a firecracker you've got yourself there, butcher. if she doesn't rope in her fuckin' attitude, i can't guarantee she's alive when you come back." he says calmly, as if it's the most normal thing to say. you jerk forward but butcher and hughie quickly pull you back.

"excuse us a minute, mate." butcher smiles and drags you into the hallway as you continue to protest and shout insults at the asshole.

"you've finally lost your mind if you think i'm fucking sticking around and babysitting an actual murderer." you begin, but butcher quickly cuts you off.

"listen love, he's just kidding, alright? the fella's 105, right? he's doped up on all kinds of meds, he can't hurt a fly right now. plus, he's saving his energy so you're not in any real danger. trust me." billy sways as he gives you that devilish smile, you've grown to know too well. "just keep soldier boy entertained and busy, let him talk your fucking ear off. doesn't get easier." he shrugs.

"... soldier boy?" you pause. butcher rolls his eyes and with the help of hughie, they quickly describe their catastrophic trip to russia and discovering the bastard was still alive and how they plan to use him to stop homelander. you can only nod and hum as you try to absorb the severity of the situation, but with a grain of salt.

"alright. look, i'll 'babysit' him this once." you use air quotes before running your hands over your face, not believing what you're agreeing to. "but this, this is fucking crazy."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, love." butcher huffs before dragging you back into the apartment and explaining the situation to soldier boy before handing him another bag of miscellaneous pills. they wish you luck and stuff some bills in your hand for dinner and suddenly, it was just you and the 105-year old man-child stuck together.

the first few hours flew by without an incident and you weren't quite sure how you had managed to listen to his incoherent rants about modern society and the state of feminism without losing your mind. it might have something to do with the fact that he could explode and kill you at any moment, but it could be also be because he offered you good weed in return which made everything much more tolerable.

you had eaten some cheap-ass pizza from a nearby restaurant before settling down with a beer or two and watching whatever was showing on his shitty tv. you would occasionally hum or nod in agreement to whatever nonsense he spewed just to keep him sated; he was so into hearing his own voice that it didn't register to him that he had barely heard yours.

until you were moaning and groaning his name as he ruthlessly thrusted himself into you right there on the same couch, with your ankles dangling above your head and his hand firmly around your throat. you weren't sure how this happened or escalated, but you definitely weren't complaining as you marvelled at his toned body and handsome features. the sly, fox-like grin and matching mischievous eyes, toussled chestnut, brown hair and jawline you could cut yourself on. he pounded into your slick folds at a delicious pace, slowly dragging himself in and out of you and gazing in awe at where your bodies connected. his back scratched up and your throat littered with love bites; leaving little gifts for one another on each others bodies.

you let him take out his years of frustration and pent up anger on your body as you laid and relished in the sensation of it; welcoming every word that slipped past his plush lips and every grab from his calloused hands with a grin on your face as multiple orgasms washed over you and ebbed away at your previous hesitations. and that's how it started, this thing between you and ben.

it wasn't exactly healthy and didn't always work out, considering the amount of times you'd get into shouting matches with the older supe, but billy now had a reliable baby-sitter, so he wasn't going to complain.

"jesus christ, do you ever shut the fuck up?" ben groans as you complain about the state of his apartment, finding pizza crusts scattered around, as well as finding weapons and drugs just laying haphazardly in places where you'd least expect them.

"only when your cock is stuffed into my mouth." you state matter-of-factly as you're bent over and letting your eyes glance over the sad contents of it; a few beers, the aforementioned knife and one expired milk cartoon. ben visibly freezes and splutters, the beer in his mouth catching in his throat. you snap up, slam the fridge and give him a wink whilst hiding your small smirk. there is nothing you loved more than getting under his "thick" skin. you start unpacking the groceries you had gotten for you both; it was going to be another long night of keeping him in line and unlike him, you actually needed to eat.

"back in my day, ladies wouldn't have a mouth on 'em like you do." he scoffed, trying to act like your words weren't affecting him they way you know they were.

"you know ben? you're so fucking stuck in the past, that you have no clue how to function here! we're all trying to help you but you're just too fucking stubborn," you start and he lets out a groan as he knew what this meant; another one of your long tirades about whatever was occupying your mind. he was getting a taste of his own medicine, so he tried to keep his complains to a minimum as he settled into the kitchen chair and watch you with a beer. you rant for a little while and all he does is grunt and him, knowing it's better to just let you talk then to interrupt you; he's unsuccessfully tried a few times.

"looks like i need to fuck you harder to get my fuckin' message across." he just grumbles as you finally sit down opposite him with a scowl.

"if you're not careful, i'll fuck you harder and show how you a real women works these days." you laugh as ben takes over your previous scowl and just shakes his head. "oh ben, i am a ride that you wouldn't survive." you wink dramatically and to his dismay, he blushes before knocking back the rest of his beer.

"i should've stayed in the fucking '50's." he groans and runs his hands over his face, rubbing his beard as his tired eyes glance over you.

"but then, you wouldn't have experienced me bouncing on you, crazy style." you pout, leaning forward and grabbing his hands. he abruptly stands up and sighs before announcing that he needed a fucking nap and a bottle of jameson before he could handle anymore bullshit from you. you're left sat with a shit-eating grin, knowing that in an hour or two, he'll come crawling back and begging to hear you talk dirty to him as he pounds into you.

a/n: idk what this is but here we are. this is what my brain conjured up and honestly, this took too long for me to write, so im sorry anon that this is so late </3 -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted (comment or inbox me to be added)

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 2

Pairing: Lando Norris

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 3125

You can read part 1 here

Do we need somebody Just to feel like we're alright? Is the only reason You're holding me tonight 'Cause we're scared to be lonely?

It had been a week since you last saw Lando. After his visit to the school, it was like he had vanished. You knew he was home because, as always, he made sure you knew that, but beyond that, there was no sign of him.

The touch of your lips has haunted you ever since. You cursed yourself, telling yourself that you should have pushed yourself away the moment your lips met, you shouldn't have frozen.

"You're not getting it! Our lips touched." You practically yelled at your sister over FaceTime. She burst out laughing. "It's not funny. I hate him."

"If you hate him so much, why are you this worked up?" She teased you.

You frowned. "Are you implying I felt something?"

She shrugged. "Did you?"

"NO!"

At the same time, Lando was telling Max, who was stuffing clothes into his suitcase, since he was going back to Lonon, what had happened.

"It was an accident, dude!" Max said, watching his friend with amusement. "Just forget about it."

"I can't forget it!" Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Our lips touched, Max. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it."

Max snorted. "Sounds like you liked it."

Lando spun around. "Are you insane? I meant goosebumps in a bad way. Like… I feel sick."

"Yeah, sure." Max smirked, barely holding back laughter.

You downed the last sip of your coffee, grabbed your bag, and stepped out of your apartment. Today was going to be a good day. You could feel it.

You had woken up early, gone for a run, had breakfast, and still had time to stop by your favorite bakery at the end of the street. Everything felt perfectly in place.

For once, Lando Norris was the last thing on your mind. Or at least, he was supposed to be.

You stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, as you shifted your bag onto your shoulder, but then, just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot between them, forcing them open.

Your stomach dropped.

Lando locked eyes with you, before stepping inside. He didn't said anything and neither did you. The doors closed, sealing you both inside the small space. The building had a few years, so the elevator was not that spaceous.

He looked at his watch and run a hand through his curls. He looked like he was in a hurry.

Just five more floors.

Four.

Three.

Then... A jolt.

The elevator shuddered violently before coming to a stop. The lights flickered once, then settled into an unsettling dim glow.

You both froze. Then Lando sighed, pressing the emergency button. Nothing happened.

"You've got to be kidding me." Lando muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Just my luck." He let out a long sigh, pacing in the cramped space. If the elevator had felt small before, it felt suffocating now.

You, far too calm for his liking, pressed the emergency button a few times. "Can you stop moving?" You snapped, growing irritated.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You shot him a look. "Yes, actually. You've been bothering me for a while now. Thanks for finally noticing."

Lando scoffed. "Excuse me if I'm not as relaxed as you!"

You could see he was nervous. "If you keep panicking like that, you're going to run us out of oxygen."

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide. "What--?! Aren't you supposed to be a teacher? That's not how you tell someone to calm down!"

"You're not a kid, are you?"

Lando let out a fake chuckle. "Fuck. Why did I have to get stuck with you?"

You crossed your arms. "Trust me, I'm wondering the same thing."

He let out an amused breath, shaking his head. "Please! This is probably going to be the highlight of your day."

"You really think you’re that special? You're just an idiot, Norris." You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Lando smirked, taking a deliberate step closer. "Well, then it seems we're not that different, princess."

"Don't you have anything better to do? Grow up, please. That pretty face of yours isn't going to get you out of everything forever."

"Oh..." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "So you think I'm handsome?"

You exhaled sharply. "That's the only thing you got from what I said? You're impossible."

Somehow, the space between you had vanished. You weren't sure who had moved first, but suddenly, he was close. Closer than necessary.

Lando's gaze flickered down to your lips, as he licked his own. The air grew thick. The bickering stopped and he elevator fell into silence.

Your breath caught in your throat. Every logical thought screamed at you to move, push him away, to say something, but you didn't. Neither of you did.

Lando's hand twitched at his side like he was debating whether to reach for you. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, but you could see it. He was just as caught in this moment as you were.

Then, just as his face leaned closer and your lips were about to touch, the elevator jerked back to life.

You stumbled slightly, as you immediately took a step back away from each other. He run a hand through his hair and you looked away from him. The air was thick, but neither of you acknowledged it.

The doors slid open and without hesitation, you stepped out, ignoring the concerned doorman who asked if you were okay. You didn't spare him, or Lando, a single glance as you strode out of the building.

Lando watched you go, jaw clenched, hands on his hips. He let out a breath and muttered under his breath: "What the fuck just happened?"

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Even surrounded by a classroom full of energetic kids, you couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in your head.

Why hadn't you pushed him away? Why hadn't you moved? Had you actually… wanted to kiss him? The questions run in your mind, each one making you more frustrated than the last.

By the time you got home, you felt exhausted, not physically, but mentally. You barely made it to the couch before grabbing your phone, dialing your friend number without hesitation.

"Let's go out tonight!" You blurted before she could even say hello.

A beat of silence. Then, suspicion. "Go out as in... clubbing?"

It had been a while. You weren't exactly the party animal type, so your sudden enthusiasm was unexpected.

"Yes!" You confirmed, already sitting up. "I need a distraction. Let's get dinner and then let's go out. Call the others."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my responsible and sensible friend?"

"Just be ready."

Determined to wipe the morning from your mind, you took a long shower, letting the heat ease the tension from your shoulders. Then, you dug through your closet, finding a dress you barely remembered owning: it was a red dress that hugged your body in all the right places. Paired with black heels that made your legs look like they belonged on a runway and a swipe of bold red lipstick. You felt powerful and it was just what you needed.

Lando leaned against the DJ booth, his drink on his hand as his friend, Martin Garrix, animatedly talked about his upcoming tour dates.

The club was packed, people moving to the heavy bass, neon lights flickering across the dance floor. It was the perfect place to blow off steam, to forget about the week.

Or at least, it was.

But the moment you walked in with your friends, all thoughts of relaxation evaporated.

Lando stiffened, nearly choking on his drink. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"WHAT?" Martin shouted over the music.

Lando gestured toward the entrance. "Do you see that group that just walked in?"

Martin followed his gaze, spotting a group of friends laughing as they stepped into the club. "What about it?"

"The girl in the red dress. It's my neighbour!"

Martin's eyebrows shot up. "Wait... The neighbor? The one you kissed?"

Lando rolled his eyes. "We didn't kiss."

"Yet!" Martin smirked, clearly enjoying himself seeing Lando's annoyed face. He turned back to glance at you again. "She's beautiful."

Lando made a face, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. "She's a nightmare, that's what she is." Martin chuckled, seeing right through him. "And she's a kindergarten teacher, bet it's gonna be real awkward for some parents to see their kid's sweet little teacher dressed like that."

Martin laughed, draping an arm over Lando's shoulder. "Dude, you're so jealous already."

"Shut up. What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's obvious!" Martin smirked. "You like her. And you hate that every guy in this club is about to spend their night looking at her. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears, mate."

"Fuck off."

Your feet ached, but you didn't care. You were having the time of your life. Hours had passed in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks, and you and your friends hadn't left the dance floor for more than a few minutes at a time.

The alcohol had done its job: Lando hadn't crossed your mind all night. (Well, except maybe now. But that doesn't count.)

Leaning against the bar, you waited for your drink when a man approached you. Tall, broad shoulders, very handsome. And exactly your type.

He flashed you a smile. "Do you come here often?"

You blinked at him before bursting into laughter. "Oh my god. That pick-up line does not match your face."

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that was terrible. I panicked."

You smirked. "I can tell."

"Not much of a flirt, I guess." He admitted, laughing along with you.

"Clearly."

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Eric, by the way."

You shook it, still grinning. "Y/n."

Lando leaned against the railing, beer in hand, eyes fixed on the bar. He told himself he was just people-watching, just casually scanning the room, but his gaze kept landing on you.

And the guy standing way too close to you.

The guy who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Tall, charming, and irritatingly good-looking. The kind of guy who knew exactly how to play his cards.

Lando took a sip of his beer, jaw tightening as he watched you laugh at something the guy said. You were drunk and from the way the guy leaned in, so was he. Too close. Way too close.

"You look like a creep." Martin shouted over the music, snapping Lando out of his glare. "Stop looking at her."

"I'm not looking at her."

Martin snorted. "Right. You're just analyzing the guy she's with." He nudged Lando's shoulder. "Worried she might take him home?"

Lando scoffed, tearing his eyes away. "I don't fucking care."

"Sure." Martin smirked, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't press further, letting his friend drown in jealousy.

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin like a slap. Eric followed closely behind, his hand steady on your back as he helped you sit down on a nearby bench as you waited for the cab.

"You're really nice, you know that?" You mumbled, tilting your head to look at him as he sat down beside you.

Eric smiled. "Thank God. I was worried I screwed up my chances with that terrible pickup line."

You laughed softly, resting your head against the cool metal of the bench. "You saved yourself."

"I'm glad!" He admitted, his voice warm. "I had a good time tonight."

"Me too." You sighed, your stomach swirling uncomfortably. You cleared your throat, barely above a whisper as the words slipped out. "I wish you were him."

Eric frowned. "Who?"

Before you could answer, a voice interrupted you. His voice.

"Y/n?" You and Eric both turned, and there he was. Lando. Hands in his pockets, his gaze locked onto you.

Eric's eyes widened in recognition. "Wow. Lando Norris?" He sounded excited, most likely a fan.

But you barely registered his reaction. Your stomach twisted again, and before you could stop it, you shot up from the bench, turned away from them both, and emptied your stomach onto the pavement.

Lando instinctively moved toward you, but Eric was faster. He was by your side, gathering your hair in his hands and rubbing slow circles on your back.

Lando clenched his jaw, watching the way Eric took care of you. It shouldn't bother him, but it did. The guy was too perfect. A walking green flag.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked gently. "Think you can stand?"

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, groaning as you nodded. Eric helped you to your feet, keeping you steady against his side. "Where's that damn cab?" Eric muttered under his breath, glancing around.

"I'll take her home," Lando said suddenly.

Eric turned to him, brows raised. "What?"

"We're neighbors. She's most likely going to pass out on the way back."

"Yeah, we drank quite a lot." He looked between you and Lando. "Y/n? You okay with that?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay with going with Lando? Is he your neighbour?" He asked you, and Lando could almost hear himself rolling his eyes. The guy was seriously too nice.

"Yes!" You confirmed. Lando took a step forward and stretched his hands. You blinked up at him, your head heavy. "You're so annoying. Why are you always everywhere?" Despite your grumble, your hands slowly found his.

Eric's lips twitching into a sad smile. He gently let you go as Lando pulled you closer, steadying you against him.

"Thanks for taking care of her." Lando said.

"It was my pleasure." Eric replied, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "She's something special. And I just met her, so…"

You chuckled. "I like you, Eric."

He smiled. "I know, Y/n." Then his expression flickered, just for a second. "But I'm not him, right?"

Lando frowned, watching as you only groaned in response.

Eric let out a small breath before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Lando's grip on you tightened.

"It was nice meeting you." Eric said. "Call me sometime, yeah?" He turned to Lando, extending a hand. "Big fan, man. Nice to meet you."

Lando shook it briefly. "Yeah. You too."

Eric gave you one last glance before walking off.

Lando glanced down at you, your body leaning heavily into his side. "Come on, let's get you home."

You hummed, already half-asleep. "Still annoying."

"Yeah, yeah."

Lando pulled into his parking spot, turning off the engine with a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. When he glanced to his right, he wasn't surprised to see you fast asleep, just like he'd predicted.

Your head rested against the window of his McLaren, your mouth slightly open, breaths slow and steady. One of his Quadrant hoodies was draped over you.

Lando exhaled, leaning back against the seat as he stared at you. He'd never really taken the time to look at you before, not like this. You looked… peaceful. And you were indeed a very beautiful woman.

His fingers moved on their own, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

"What the hell am I doing?" Lando muttered to himself, running a hand down his face, he groaned under his breath. "I must be crazy."

Shaking off whatever the hell that was, he reached over and carefully pulled your head away from the window. Then, he stepped out of the car, circling around to your side and pulling the door open.

"Y/n?" He called, his voice quiet but firm as he nudged your arm. "Wake up. We're home."

"Hm?" You groaned, keeping your eyes firmly shut.

"Wake up. Come on."

He turned your face into the seat, snuggling deeper into the warmth. "Let me sleep!"

Lando huffed, crossing his arms as he glanced around the dimly lit garage. "If you don't wake up, I'm leaving you here." Nothing. "I cannot believe her." With a sigh, he leaned down, sliding one arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back. He hesitated for a second before carefully lifting you into his arms.

You instinctively curled into his chest, your face pressing against the crook of his neck, a small sigh leaving your lips. Lando froze for a split second, his heart racing in his chest.

Lando stepped into the elevator, shifting you slightly in his arms to press the button for his floor. You were still dead weight against him, your warm breath fanning against the side of his neck. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to ignore the way you seemed to fit perfectly against him.

When the doors opened, he carried you down the hall, stopping in front of your apartment.

"Alright, time to go home." He muttered, adjusting his grip. "Where's your key?" You mumbled something against his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. Then, before he could even react, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Y/n." He tried again, shaking you gently. "Where's your key?"

Another muffled murmur. He sighed, dropping his head back against the door in frustration. Since you refused to answer him, and since he couldn't exactly rummage through your purse while holding you, he had no choice.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He muttered, carrying you across the hall to his own apartment.

He walked straight to his bedroom, gently lowering you onto his bed. As soon as your back hit the mattress, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. But just as he moved, you reached out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his white shirt, right where it gaped open.

"Stay." You murmured, eyes still closed.

Lando froze. "You're drunk!" He reminded you, gently prying your fingers off him. You groaned but refused to let go, gripping his shirt again, this time tighter. His breath hitched as your fingertips brushed against his bare chest. "Y/n!"

"Lando!" You snuggled against the pillow, your grip unrelenting. "Stay." You whispered.

Lando clenched his jaw. He should go. He needed to go. But the way you held onto him, the way you looked so small and vulnerable in his bed… it made something twist inside his chest.

With a heavy sigh, he gave in. "Fine! But just until you fall asleep." He told himself that.

And yet, as he laid down beside you, feeling the warmth of your body so close to his, he had a sinking feeling that this was only going to make things a lot more complicated.

Tags:

@lilorose25 @downsideup1989 @anayaverse @ln4-cl16-world @chlmtfilms @444-leqz @joannaln4 @notarshia

[authorscurse]

No one understood why you chose Ryomen Sukuna as your boyfriend out of everyone you could have chosen instead. Not even your family, friends, or coworkers knew why.

You are the kind of girl who loved having ribbons in her hair and made sure it matched with the color of your outfit. The kind of girl who watched and read about soft and romantic lovestories that could only exist in books and movies. The kind of girl who wouldn't have fallen for the notorious Ryomen Sukuna!

"Do you think he blackmailed her to be his girlfriend?"

"Do you think he paid her?"

"He probably threatened her,"

No, no, and no! Sukuna never did any of that!

"I just fell for him, that's it," you always answered whenever someone asked. And still, no one understood it. Not until they saw the way Sukuna treated you.

You had a bad habit of biting your nails, sometimes you never knew you were actually biting your nails until someone pointed it out.

One time you decided to visit your parents with Sukuna just because they were staying at your grandparents house while they were in the city.

You sat with your parents in the living room watching whatever was on the TV and that's when Sukuna noticed something from the corner of his eye. You were slowly bringing up your fingers to your mouth, ready to bite.

Instead of loudly pointing it out and embarrass you, he immediately took your hand in his to prevent you from biting them. The action was small and barely noticeable but your parents noticed.

You were known to always ribbons in your hair no matter the occasion and you made sure the color and theme of your bow matched your outfit.

While out with your friends, your boyfriend and theirs followed closely behind while you girls roamed around the mall choosing what to buy.

"Kuna, look!" You showed Sukuna a beautiful red silk dress that had a slit that would sit at your right thigh. Your friends watched as Sukuna nodded and grabbed the dress from your hand and placed it inside your basket without any comment.

When it was time to check out, a matching red ribbon was inside your basket that you never picked up or placed inside it. Your eyes widen and showed Sukuna, "did you get that?" You asked even if you already knew the answer. Sukuna clicked his tongue while giving the cashier his credit card. "'Course I did, who else would've put it there if you didn't?" He responded.

You only smiled sweetly before placing a kiss in his cheek. Of course you both had eyes watching you closely, despite the Sukuna's sassy reply his actions was sweet and small, but your friends noticed.

You loved the raining, but you get sick so easily so Sukuna hated (not really) having to take care of you while you were sick after you disobeyed his orders of not playing in the rain. It was raining when Sukuna picked you up at your office's exit.

He had you raincoat under his arm and he helped you get it on you. "Kuna," you started but before you can utter the words Sukuna already knew what you'll be asking.

"No," he cut you off, pulling the strings of your raincoat to fully cover you. "But Kuna—" you reasoned but Sukuna was not having it. "You'll get whiny and teary eyed when you get sick and I'll have to deal with all of it," Sukuna says buttoning up the last button on your raincoat. "Please," you begged, you pulled off your best puppy eyes and Sukuna tried to resist but the longer you stared at him the shorter his resistance held on.

Sukuna could only sigh and watch you smile widely while taking the hood of your raincoat and ran. Sukuna sighs loudly and trailed behind you. The next day, Sukuna called your office to tell them you were sick from what? Playing in the rain.

The whole day Sukuna took care of you, clearly the opposite of what he said to you a day prior. After getting better, you walked back to work all well and energised.

"I'm okay now. My boyfriend took great care of me," you told everyone who asked how you were doing. Your coworkers noticed that you were much more cheerful than before. You think your coworkers wouldn't notice, but they did.

Again, no one really understood why you love Ryomen Sukuna so much. But you did. The subtly actions, the concern and care under the sassy tone, and of course the actions hidden behind closed doors.

Others just really need to look closely to see why you love Ryomen Sukuna so much.

[starrydali]

Cuteness Agression - Rafe Cameron

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ Rafe’s got a temper—everyone knows that. But nothing sets him off like you and those big, wide doe eyes that make him feel like he’s losing his mind. You look up at him all innocent, like you have no clue what you're doing, and it drives him insane. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Rafe Cameron has a short temper he always has.

But nothing—nothing—sets him off quite like you do.

Not in a bad way. No, in the kind of way that pulls at his heart strings, makes his hands too twitchy, and his brain too loud—because how the fuck is he supposed to think straight when you looks at him like that?

Like right now.

You're just standing there, staring up at him with those big, ridiculous doe eyes, all wide and innocent, like you have no clue what your doing to him.

Rafe knows he should still be mad, his jaw is still tight, adrenaline still rushing through his veins from nearly breaking some guy’s face for looking at you the wrong way—but then you go and tilt your head, brows pinching together all cute, and—

"Fuck," Rafe mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

Your eyes somehow get even bigger. "What?"

He groans, grabbing the back of his neck, turning away. "You gotta stop looking at me like that, sweetie."

"Like what?" you ask, voice all soft, tugging on his hoodie, actually trying to kill him.

He whips back around, eyes wild. "Like you’re a fucking baby deer! Like I could put you in my pocket and carry you around or some shit!"

You blink. "You want to carry me around?"

"No!" His hand go to your face, squeezing your cheeks just enough to make your lips pout, and fuck, that’s even worse. "I wanna—ugh—I don’t know what I wanna do! Shake you? Kiss you? Bite you?" His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you impossibly cuter, and he growls under his breath. "You’re gonna kill me, you know that?"

Your cheeks squish in his hands as you let out a soft, "I'm sorry."

Rafe groans again, louder this time, finally loosing it he drops your face and pushes you towards the bedroom.

"Come on let's see if you're still this fucking cute with tears running down your face".

You scrunch up your face in a almost scared look and god does that pull his heart strings. He feels a little bad but if he doesn’t do something about all this goddamn cuteness aggression, he’s genuinely going to lose his mind.

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[cargopantsman]

I'm going to say that the critics do have to review the marvel movies the same way any of us should be reviewing the tomato pictures being hung in a subway restaurant.

And I'm going to put Duchamp's "Fountain" here to stall.

Marvel movies have become drivel. The initial rollout series had a level of honesty behind the writing that probably most of us could say we genuinely enjoyed the first Iron Man, the Ed Norton Hulk, or even the first Captain America.

The value of critiquing these films comes in seeing what happens when an overwhelmingly corporate agenda comes into play.

Like... you can't say Black Pather was a Bad Movie (as long as you kinda know what's going one [which is a critique in itself]), but with many themes and points in the MCU, a solid point is struck on a hollow anvil.

So any good story-telling is going to be overshadowed by this monolithic shadow of the studio trying to maximize gains, even when the heart of those stories (going back to the golden age comics) generally balk at the concept.

Is the MCU a good story-telling platform? No... Prachett's Discworld handled any given "nobody" wandering in and at least catching on to what is important better than Marvel ever, whether in movies or comics, could ever let someone wander in.

Does the MCU tell good stories?... yeah. They do. And there's a pivot where if you don't care (or aren't obsessively compelled) for context, the movies can kinda be one-offs.

But there's a critique right there...

Because the MCU relies on the US Department of Defense for so much of it's infrastructure, we have to criticize the films for bowing to the state in ways that the actual comic characters wouldn't.

We have to criticize the WWII era super-soldier as an allegory for the Greatest Generation and watch him support the next fascist power. (Winter Soldier fans calm down, I'm playing the Man out of Time angle here.)

But also Iron Man/Tony Stark being the billionaire playboy the Muskovites tried to pretend their boy wonder being a legitimate actor in global diplomacy. Part of critiquing the MCU is the fact that the amount of resources Tony spent in spiffying up his power armor probably could saved thousads of more lives in setting up supply chains and resource distribution that in making the next better Jarvis/Power Armor combo.

Now you're thinking "jesus cargo what the fuck are you going on about?"

but look at that tomato picture, look at that sharp chopped iceberg lettuce.

it's a wall decoration. but it's a wall decoration as you come into the subway. it's meant to make you feel like you're making a healthy decision.

there's a mcdonald's next door but you chose the subway. A BigMac with fries might just be another DC Batman movie. It's familiar, you bite in, knowing that you have to see Bruce's parents die, again. But it's a familar taste. It get's you through the day.

the subway... it's fresh. that's what it tells you at least. the pictures on the wall say so. (not, now that you think of it, that mcdonalds comes off as rotted) and you pick and choose the ingredients you want (i could see Black Panther but I'll choose to see Captain America again) [this is choosing the turkey and mayo on white bread option]

And the turkey with mayo on white bread miggt be tasty enough for you... but probably not for any one else...

but thinking you went with subway makes you better than the mcdonald's crowd is gonna bring up some issues (most likely by your general practitioner)

and neither is inherently better or worse then the other.

as long as you fucking think about what you are feeling and doing.

it's all just a urinal in an art gallery.

[comicaurora]

Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

[organic-bloodbath]

can you pls do a thanks x reader where reader is like lowk a bad ass. enemies to lovers kind of thing. maybe they have known each other for years. she tripped up during mingle but someone saved just in the nick of time but later in the bathroom he yells at her telling her he can’t lose her because he loves her. and then they kiss and stuff and fall asleep together (im a sucker for angst with a fluffy ending🙏)

I love you, fucking idiot

Thanos x Reader

Summary: As above.

A/N: Hope you like 🫶��

☆☆☆

You and Thanos had known each other since middle school. You wouldn't consider the two of you friends, honestly you didn't really know what you were since you wouldn't think of you as enemies either. You had always disliked him, atleast that's what you thought, but it wouldn't go as far as hate. More like he simply annoyed the shit out of you. Thanos had been teasing and bickering with you ever since you were teenagers, and he seemed to enjoy it. It was always harmless, he never actually bullied you.

"Well, well, well – look who it is," Thanos said as he approached you and looked at your figure from head to toe before continuing. "I see you've dyed your hair."

Your hair was naturally dark brown, but you had dyed it pink a few months ago.

"Did you do it to match with me?" Thanos smiled. "Didn't know you were so obsessed with me."

"You wish," you denied, rolling your eyes. "I haven't had a single thought about you in several months."

"So, you admit you've sometimes thought about me," he pointed out and brought his hand to rest on his heart. "That's so touching, Cotton Candy."

"Don't be so full of yourself," you scoffed. "And cut the nickname, it's gross."

When the game started right after, Thanos leaned a little closer to you.

"Wanna race?" he asked.

"For what?" you asked, right brow lifted in curiosity.

"If i win, i'll get to keep the nickname for you," he suggested with a smirk.

"And when i win?" you asked. "Because there's no way i'm losing to you."

"I'll drop the nickname."

"Well, challenge accepted."

As you were running forward, trying to ignore Thanos near you, someone suddenly pushed you, making you fall on the ground. You laid there on your back, managing to stay still when the doll turned around to scan any possible movements in the area.

"As clumsy as always," Thanos mocked quietly above you, smirk on his face.

"Shut up," you mumbled in annoyance.

When it was time to move again, Thanos offered his hand to pull you up.

"I don't need your help," you muttered and started to get up.

"Stop being grumpy and take my hand," he insisted.

You rolled your eyes and let him pull you up. However, he pulled you with more force than you had expected, making you almost to trip forward again but he held you still. You were standing against him now, your heads facing each other to make you lock eyes. Right then the doll turned again, forcing you to stay still for a while.

"Did you always have freckles on your cheeks?" Thanos muttered quietly as he examined your face closer, just thinking outloud.

"Duh," you mumbled and got off his grip when you could move again, taking a quick sprint forward to get ahead of him.

In the end, you did win the game just couple of seconds before Thanos, he was running right beside you the entire way.

"Ha! I win," you mocked him. "Didn't know you let yourself go out of shape when you started focusing on rapping."

"You were just lucky this time," he huffed and rolled his eyes, not wanting to bruise his ego by admitting his defeat to you.

"This time? You want to do this again, huh?"

"Until i win."

☆☆☆

The second game arrived the next day and you were supposed to form groups of 5 with each other.

"Alright, Y/N, you're with my team," Thanos stated, as if he had done the decision by himself.

"Um, no thank you," you laughed.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Thanos narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer to you.

"Now, what kind of competition would it be if we played in the same group?" you asked, crossing your arms on your chest. "The group that finishes earlier than the other wins."

"I see," Thanos hummed. "So what's the prize?"

"You'll see," you said and winked, leaving Thanos on his own without another word to search for your own team members.

Thanos wouldn't show it on the outside, but seeing you go and find a different group stinged his heart a little in a horrible way. Having you in the same group would have meant to either die together or live together. Being in different groups would mean the other could die while the other lived. But he couldn't force you to be in his team, no.

Your group played first and you did end up winning five seconds earlier than Thanos' group. It pissed him off so badly how you could win him twice and then rub it on his face afterwards.

"So, what do i owe you?"

"Besides all those pens you never returned to me in middle school?" you asked. "Hm. New shoes."

"Aw, is that a way to ask me to go shopping with you?" Thanos asked, having that same smile on his face which you hated. "I knew you liked my company."

You just punched his shoulder before leaving.

☆☆☆

The third game started, and along with his own team, you stood next to him as well.

"Now, you're not going to start wandering around this room on your own, got it?" Thanos said to you.

"What are you, my dad?" you scoffed, but having a playful smirk on your face. "You can't tell me what to do."

God, it started to annoy him how you took this as a joke. He wanted to keep you safe – no, he needed to keep you safe.

"You're not going to leave my side, are we clear?"

"That bossing me around is both annoying and kind of hot," you admitted, one of your eyebrows lifted.

"Are we clear?" Thanos asked firmly, voice getting louder.

"Yes, sir," you agreed, but Thanos could see that you didn't take him as seriously as he would have hoped.

As the rounds went by, you did stay with him and not go on your own ways. For that, Thanos was more than thankful. Since he had noticed that you kept following him, one round he didn't look so closely at your way anymore. He trusted that you were right behind him again, because the time was running out very, very quickly now and his team was struggling to find a free room. Thanos eventually did get into an empty room right at the last second.

Thanos turned around as the door had closed and locked itself, but when he saw a guy instead of you, his heart stopped. There were three players in the room with him, and none of them were you.

You had been right behind him, he had seen you. Barely two steps behind running and searching for a room with him. Thanos had been sure of it. But you weren't in the room now.

Thanos instantly ran to the gap of the door to peek out as the shootings started.

"Y/N!"

His heart was racing faster than ever before. Several people had been left outside, you included, and now their bodies were being carried into the black coffins tied with those fucking pink bows. It was too dark to recognise which body belonged to you.

Thanos leaned against the wall in disbelief. You couldn't be gone, that was impossible. You could survive anything. You had to.

He looked at his remaining team mates who were all staring at him. Nam-gyu, Se-mi and Gyeong-su, who looked at Thanos with the most terrified look out of all three.

Thanos stormed towards Gyeong-su and slammed him right against the wall, holding him captive by his shoulders.

"Where did you leave Y/N?!" Thanos shouted. "It was supposed to be Y/N!"

Nam-gyu had to pull Thanos away with a good amount of force so that he wouldn't start beating Gyeong-su up completely.

"Chill up, man," Nam-Gyu tried to calm Thanos down. "She probably found another room, don't get all heated up in the middle of the game."

Thanos took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration. God he was angry - mostly at himself how he had let this happen just like that and not kept a closer eye on you. He should have held your hand to make sure you were there, but he knew you would have refused and only pulled your hand away.

For the next round, he didn't see you anywhere among the players. There were a lot left and he didn't go through the entire carousel because he had lost all hope. He was sure there was no way you could have survived finding a room in just a few seconds.

Thanos didn't say a word as he walked back with his team after the challenge was finished. Nam-gyu tried to talk to him but he didn't spare any attention on him at the moment.

Then, his heart stopped for a mere second when he saw you walking next to another player, having a conversation with her which Thanos couldn't hear. You laughed at something what player 120 said to you.

You were alive. He heard your laugh, which was always louder than many other people's laugh normally were. Thanos was frozen still for a few seconds, only looking towards you.

He was disappointed when he noticed that you kept your attention just on player 120 and didn't scan the room for Thanos as closely as Thanos did for you. But he didn't waste one moment longer until he stormed towards you with large and loud steps that made many other players around him to turn and look at him.

Thanos grabbed your hand without a warning and pulled you behind him towards the bathroom. You tried to yank your hand off but his grip was too tight.

"Su-bong," you said. "Su-bong, stop."

He didn't listen to you, only dragged you after him so fast you were about to trip soon.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" Thanos shouted when the door had closed. He didn't know if anyone was in the stalls right now and he didn't care.

"What?" you asked with brows furrowed, confused what Thanos was on right now.

"Don't you 'what' at me," Thanos spat, then pointing his finger at you. "What the fuck was that in the game?"

"What was?"

Thanos took a deep, frustrated breath in not to explode in total pieces in front of you.

"You didn't come to the room with me," Thanos said with a chuckle, though he found absolutely no part of this conversation funny. "You weren't in our room, Y/N. Why the fuck weren't you there?"

"I tripped," you shrugged. "You were gone already so i found another room."

You looked so indifferent and how this wasn't a big deal. You looked like you didn't care and it made Thanos even more enraged, fire building inside him unbearably hot.

Thanos laughed. Actually laughed. He didn't know where it came from because none of this was funny, but his emotions unfolded in uncontrollable laughter for a moment.

"Okay Thanos, what's going on?" you asked and crossed your arms. "I tripped, found a room and i'm now here."

"Don't you understand, Y/N?" he said in desperation, putting his arms on both of your shoulders. He had stopped laughing, his face completely serious and turning into anger and annoyance again. "You could have died!"

"Yes, Thanos, i know," you took your turn in laughing. "That's the point, they kill who lose-"

"But you could have been one of them!" he yelled at you, his face now only a few inches away from you. As he looked into your eyes, his wide eyes softened and his face relaxed more, voice turning a lot more quiet as well. "I could have lost you, Y/N. I was meant to protect you."

His hands moved upwards to cup your cheeks in their gentle hold.

"I can't watch you die," he said by barely a whisper. You leaned your face into his touch, a smile spreading on your lips. It annoyed Thanos. "What's so funny?"

"You like me," you stated with a grin. "Admit it, you like me."

Thanos huffed and rolled his eyes, letting go off you. He turned around to leave without another word.

"Come on, just say it," you said playfully, starting to follow his back. He gave you only silence and tried to ignore your finger drawing zigzag patterns on his back. "Come onnnnn, Su-bong. You like me, you like me, you like-"

He turned around in a mere second, stopping on his tracks so aprubtly that you bumped on his chest.

"I love you, Y/N!" Thanos shouted. "Don't you get that?"

Your eyes widened and so did his. The words weren't supposed to leave his lips like that, but you managed to press his buttons in a way to squeeze them out of him. You looked at each other, him sparing a quick glance at your lips.

Before either of you knew it, both of you leaned in towards each other and crashed your lips into a hungry kiss.

His arms were roaming all around your body, pulling you tightly against his body by your lower back. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing through his purple hair. His tongue forced your mouth open wider and was able to dig itself deeper to explore new parts of you.

Then, the door of one of the stalls opened slowly a few metres behind you, startling both of you out of the trance of savoring each other.

Min-su looked at both of you awkwardly, hint of pink on his cheeks, then quickly going to wash his hands and avoiding any eye contact with you. Neither you or Thanos moved during this time, not an inch besides of your heads to follow his movements. Your left hand was resting on his shoulder, your right fingers against the back of his neck. Thanos had his hands on your lower back.

Min-su glanced at you, both of you staring at him and waiting for him to leave, and then hurried out of the bathroom without another look. You and Thanos both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Oh my god," you mumbled and wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye.

Thanos put his finger on your chin, a smirk playing on his face.

"So, want to continue this," he suggested, trailing his tattooed finger along your lip and jawline, "somewhere more private, hm?"

You pushed his hand off.

"As if."

You were about to walk past him, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you around back to face him.

"So you're just going to leave me hanging like that, Y/N?" Thanos asked, eyebrows raised close to his hairline.

"Thanos, i'm not going to go to the damn stall with you."

Thanos grabbed your face into his hands, making you look at him. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he only looked deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, i meant it," he said seriously. "I love you."

Your brows furrowed.

"I love you and i can't handle the feeling inside me when i even think that something bad might have happened to you," he explained with such a vulnerability in his voice you had never experienced before.

You looked at him seriously for a while, until you started to giggle.

"You loveee me," you teased.

"Shut up," Thanos mumbled, rolling his eyes, and turned his back to you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind and rested your chin on his left shoulder, gently caressing his chest with your palm in a soothing and calming way like you were trying to calm down a child after a breakdown. He stayed still under your touch.

"I think i like you too," you admitted.

"Just 'like'?" he asked. "Like, a friend or what?"

"Well, i wouldn't want to have you die either," you admitted. "It would make me sad."

"Would you cry over me?" Thanos asked.

"I might. A little bit."

Thanos knew you didn't show your true emotions easily to others and especially didn't admit them with words. He had always known that you showed your emotions through actions, not through speech. It would be useless to force you confess 'i love you' back even if you did love him.

"Would you be okay if... you saw me with another woman?" he asked slowly. "Someone else kissing me like we did, hm?"

You were quiet for a moment, still standing behind him on your tiptoes in the same position, but now grabbed his cheeks with your hand, turning his face towards yours. Your faces were so close your noses were only an inch apart from each other.

"You're mine, you hear me?" you stated seriously with a stern voice, fingers pressing hard on his cheeks. "No other woman is going to touch you as long as i live, got it?"

Grin spread on Thanos' face.

"You likeee me," he mocked you with a smile, imitating you.

"I'll hit you if i have to," you threatened but kept your hold on his shoulders as gentle and relaxed as before.

"I know you've fallen so madly in love with me," he insisted.

"And how are you so sure about that?"

Thanos turned around to make your bodies face each other.

"Because when i do this," Thanos said and simply put his hands on your cheek and lower back, pulling you closer, "you get all flustered and you scrunch your nose like this," he explained, slightly scrunching his own nose. "And you get jealous."

"I don't get flustered," you refused, narrowing your eyes, but you could feel your cheeks getting warmer.

"I'll get you to admit it some day."

"Get over yourself."

☆☆☆

When it was time to finally go to sleep, you had just laid yourself on your bunk, until felt another presence behind you. You didn't have to turn around to see who it was.

"If you think i'm going to have sex with you right now, you're very much mistaken," you stated and turned your back to him. "Go to sleep, Thanos."

Thanos scooped over to lay on the bed on his side behind you.

"Who talked about sex?" Thanos asked, like the entire thing was a foreign concept to him. "I'm tired after the game too, you know."

"What are you doing?" you asked as he put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, your back against his chest.

"Getting a comfortable position to sleep."

You stretched your neck to look at Thanos over your shoulder.

"You planned to sleep here?"

"Obviously, señorita."

"Why?"

"Because that's what men do when they love a woman – or so i've heard."

"We're not a married couple, Su-bong."

"Do i have to fall on my knees to propose to you right now to make you shut up and accept me as your sleeping buddy?" Thanos asked, looking a little too serious that he'd actually do it if you kept resisting.

You eyed him for a moment until turned your head away from him back to rest on the pillow.

"If your hand wanders anywhere else than my waist i'll kick you to the floor," you stated seriously as you closed your eyes.

"Fair." Thanos lifted his head to plant a soft kiss on your temple. "Goodnight, grumpy princess."

"Gross."

"I know you love it."

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[kyonite]

You're wrong about the purpose of the Hayes Code in such a fascinating way so I'm sorry if I sound like I'm dunking on you but I really do need to correct this.

You say the Hayes Code is "a codified set of rules intended for censorship" this opinion isn't wrong but it is missing an important part. The Hayes Code was a set of rules intended for self-censorship in the face of "moral" objections.

You see in the early 1920's as sound film became popular, studios had a problem. What was permissable and normal and "moral" in, say, New York wasn't permissable or normal or "moral" in a more conservative state like Kansas. They faced a rising wave of laws from individual states calling for actual censorship of film. To get around this, the film studios agreed to self-censor so they could avoid all these laws.

I think this point is important to note, because the Hayes Code isn't enforced by a legal government body, but instead by the studios themselves. They constructed the Motion Picture Association. They hired notable Republican Will H. Hayes (whose most recent gig before this was Chairman of the Republican Committee). Now Hayes wasn't the one who wrote the code, instead he provided the studios a list of "don'ts" and "be carefuls"in 1927. This wasn't enough, and in 1930 the studios agreed to a more strict "code" that was proposed by a catholic layman and a jesuit priest. I don't know about you but I personally don't know a group of people more willing to push their morality onto others than religious people, especially Catholics.

Eventually the code would be dropped (in the late 1960's) and Hollywood would adopt a rating system like we see today.

But, again, I have to specify that this was all self-censorship done by the studios themselves. I would argue that we see this time and time again in fan spaces especially when it comes to writing (livejournal and strikethrough come to mind as does Visa's anti-sex decisions as a payment processor).

Now is one specific person recreating a Hayes Code on themselves? Probably not. But, you can make an argument that Hayes Coding yourself is just self-censorship based on how people are reacting to your work.

"Neither do people owe authors to like or condone with authors make" who is saying this? do you know how to read? do you need someone to,,, hold your hand about it? also like damn bro I wish people who found my shit weird would stop making it my problem!

"Having moral objections is not the same as wanting to have your hand held." Damn I really wish we weren't living thru an unprecedented rise of fascism driven by a rise of moral puritanical thought. I wish I could stop holding y'all's dumbass hands!

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

[a66-1]

"You lied to me Simon." You spat, hands clenched into balls by your sides, anger clouding your judgment.

His eyes kept steady on yours, brows drawn close and lips pursed. He held a similar stance, ears ringing from his own thoughts. He hadn't lied, he couldn't have. He was nothing but truthful to those he trusted.

"I don't know what you're talking about, love, I—" He started, but you cut him off with a hand.

"Love, I-I haven't.. I don't know what you're on about." He says, hands achingly hovering over your arms. You hug yourself, taking a step back.

"I'm not an idiot. I don't know who you think your talking to, but you don't seriously have the balls to lie to my face." You scoffed, hands close to your chest, trying to convey in every way possible that you're hurt by him. That you've lost the faith you once had in him. He was an idiot for lying, but now this—eye to eye, heart to heart? He started towards you, hands trying to make contact with your face, but you brushed him off.

"Miranda." You seethed. "I saw the texts she sent you. And I know you were drinking last Friday, and you came home late."

He paused, eyes searching for understanding, and then dread seeped from his head to his toes. He remembered now, the.. The hazy memories buried deep for a reason, fear keeping them nauseatingly close incase you found out. He tried to reach for you once more, but your back turned on him before his thoughts could form into words you'd actually listen to. You had your bags packed long before he was gonna be back from his day out, and the last thing he had planned on doing tonight was sleeping alone.

He didn't try.. Going after you again, his shame brewing until it's all his body could understand. He hadn't meant for that.. Fuck up to be life altering, and soul crushing, but.. It had been. A few words and a kiss meant nothing like you had. His soul had intertwined with yours like candles, melting into one another until you couldn't differentiate who was who, what was what.

Within a week, his apartment shared with you was once again dull and gray like it was before you. His routine with you was no longer with you, making his days leaker then normal. But, like his dad always said, he would never find that spark again, and you know why?

Like the whispers his dad would grind into his memory until it was all he could think about: he deserved it.

[militaryapple]

Hi, I'm not sure if you're taking request but I love the way you write Caleb ☺️ Is it possible you can do a cute little fake dating troupe in college with Caleb?

It goes like, reader (non MC) and Caleb are friends and reader wanted a bf but she can't find one so she tried out this "men will start chasing you when you have a bf" theory with Caleb when Caleb thinks this is an opportunity to do couple things with his crush 🫢

wc. 939.

add ons: hii yes I can!! so glad u guys love my caleb he's so crazy I miss him

college. it was definitely something. work load 20 times heavier, professors who don’t really give a fuck wether you live or die or right, and dating. how you loathed the couples in your university. was it because you were unable to get a boyfriend yourself? maybe. was it also because half of every guy on campus was either a massive jerk, a guy in a frat or taken? maybe.. partly.. yeah.

everytime you were close to finding a guy, a perfect suitable guy who was funny or sweet or kind— he had to bail or he already had a girlfriend! yeah, total dreamboat. you could only sigh at the thought of you and someone on a date, going to the movies or watching some corny movie. wow you were really single and mindlessly scrolling on social media wasn’t helping your case one bit. post after post, jesus how did they do it? then you had an idea.

maybe you were pathetic and desperate.. oh fuck you’re in college. what’s worse? graduating with no love life or dying without someone who loves you. yeah, you would take your chances.

you silently typed up on your phone “how to become more attractive to men”. was it weird? yes. did you care? not really. it’s not your roommate was here, she would go on about how “life is amazing without a lover!” and “you don’t need to cry over a man!” in which she was silently resigned everytime you brought up how she had a boyfriend. so it’s come to this. better now than never anyways.

“men like taken woman, gives them a chase.” well fuck! that was your issue from the start?! what were you gonna do? get a boyfriend out of thin air to make guys ma— then you heard a knock.

you closed out of the tab as you walk to your dorm door, opening it as your gaze shifted upward, and holy mother of pearls did you find the holy grail. he was your answer.

“hey, pipsqueak!” caleb said as he held his arms out for you waiting for a hug, just to be greeted by a grab on the wrist and a soft ‘thud’ on your bed. you stared up at him, inspecting him closely. caleb was a perfect candidate! he could be your fake boyfriend!

.

.

“be my fake boyfriend.”

you were met with small chuckle as he covered his mouth and muffled out apologies. you were embarrassed, god this was embarrassing. if only you could rewind 2 minutes. god god god.

caleb smiled widely, “are you sure you want me as your fake boyfriend? what’s this even for anyways, pipsqueak?” his eyes soften as he got more comfortable on your bed. you could only smile in content. he didn’t say no, so you’ll take that as a win.

“guys are more attracted to you when you have a boyfriend.” you said shoving your phone in his face. he scanned over the phone closely before pushing your hand down to look at you. god were you pretty.

“that’s.. not real pipsqueak.” he said trying to cover his laugh. were you serious about this? you couldn’t actually believe this crap. this is why caleb prefers for you to come to him for this sort of thing, not some lousy thread you found on a very sketchy site. though he couldn’t just trample on your dreams so he went along with it, even if it was funny.

“I’m serious!” you snapped back. “just for a while, until someone shows interest in me! well more interest than my supposed boyfriend.. please caleb?” you begged, and he could never say no to you. you jumped up happily before leaning in for a hug but instead you were met by a subtle push and “ah-ah”. you looked at caleb puzzled as he got up. his arms moving to your hip while he leaned down, his and your breath almost kissing.

“if im gonna be your boyfriend for a while pipsqueak, don’t I deserve a little reward for helping you out?” he smiled, “even if it’s a fake we have to get used to kissing.”

kissing.

your first kiss, would be him.

you stared up at awe, he was handsome. just one kiss, it wouldn’t be bad right? you were flustered but no backing down now. better make this as real as possible.

You nodded in subtle approval before you leaned in, your lips touching as his grip on you held tighter. his free hand cupping your face. he was a natural at kissing, his movements were tender and he was so gentle with you. it was as if he didn’t want to wreck you. caleb moved his head back, breaking away from the sweet moment. “okay then, it’s official.” he said softly.

caleb would take you out often, every week, everyday to be exact and there seemed to be absolutely no luck with other guys. it’s not like it mattered anyways though, you were having fun with caleb, almost like he was your actual boyfriend.

as for caleb, this was perfect, he was almost glad he checked on you the day he did. you were a dream, and this “fake boyfriend” idea? would soon wash away when you start to only think of him as your actual boyfriend. taking you out, kissing you, holding you while you’re upset. everything.

as for the guys who chase you around? haha as if! he personally made sure on your first day of university that everyone knew you were his. well it doesn’t matter, it worked out either way. for both you and him.

[hitomisuzuya]

bully!yandere scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus. degradation. masochism. sexting (ish). blowjob. stalking. drugging/ use of marijuana and cigarettes. obsessive behavior from scara. mix of soft dom!scara and harsh!dom scara.

i was genuinely surprised how many people got excited for this🥺 i decided to split this into two parts cause it's really quite long.

you knew it was going to be a long afternoon the moment you left your dorm this morning. the moment scaramouche caught sight of you across campus. the last few months, scaramouche has been your bully.

"hey, nerd, you are a little late today," scaramouche bats your books out of your arms, "did you get lost on the way here?" the drink in your other hand was the next to go, batted out of your hand and landing face down on your books.

you stare down at the mess on the floor in front of you. you hate that there is a blush on your cheeks. you could do nothing but stare at the water bleeding onto your papers, swallowing your pounding heart in your throat.

scaramouche sighs, and flicks you in the forehead. "never mind," he pats you twice on your head, "i can see there is nothing going on up there. see you later, sucker. i don't have all day," he laughs at you, waving in passing.

"if you don't have all day, then what are you doing standing around picking on me?" you retort as you kneel to pick up your things. you simply pick up your things and head back to your dorm. you are pretty sure there was nothing major going on in your afternoon class.

you chose to hide away in your dorm for awhile. you flop down on your bed, turn on the tv and decide to see what your friend was up to. you met him online in the chat of a live streamer you both watch. later on through text, he told you could call him kuni and you've talked pretty much every day since.

'hey, what are you up to?'

back in his dorm, scaramouche had been waiting for your text. lately, you have been a lot more comfortable texting him. 'nothing much. i thought you are supposed to be in class this afternoon?' you have no idea it's him you have been talking to. you don't even know that it's someone at school.

it is a very good way for him to have you all to himself.

'nah, it's just a review today. i can safely skip. and this is going to sound so silly but...'

scaramouche eats it up when you trail off in your texts. that told him you are shy and flustered about something. he knows he has to be careful about how he words things when he talk to you. you might surely figure him out easily. 'what's up. is something on your mind?'

'don't laugh okay?'

'scout's honor. kinda seems like you have a lot on your mind. i don't mind listening, you know that,' you are quiet and shy, so he has to coax you little by little to get you to talk, but he likes to think he has gotten pretty good at it.

'actually, i do have a lot to say.'

scaramouche smirks, rolling the ball of his tongue piercing on the roof of his mouth. this was going to be good.

'well, he is selfish. arrogant. has no concept of personal space. he is academically lazy, but he is so so smart. all he does is poke, poke, poke. he never stops. i don't know why he picks on me, but i don't know how honest you want me to be about this?'

your praise about him being smart made his cock twitch. 'tell you what. i will put my down for two hours. not even look at it. you type to your heart's content and send the messages. when you are done, you can delete them. i won't even read them. sometimes, it helps to just get it off your chest and have that be that.'

of course he didn't do that. he kept his phone in his hand the whole time. honestly, he is completely unashamed about manipulating you like this. there is something rattling around in that pretty head of yours. there is no way he is going to pass this up. for extra encouragement, he texts, 'i'm putting my phone down now. just do your thing.'

back in your dorm, you couldn't help but smile a little. kuni really is a good friend. you feel nothing but secure talking to him about anything. so naturally, you just typed without thinking. he wasn't going to read it anyways, and you trust him. your fingers shook a little as you started typing.

'well, lately i am starting to enjoy when scaramouche bullies me. as wrong as it is to say, there is just something about that way he talks down to me. it just sounds so good. it's starting to make me really wet. that's why i had to skip class today.' not wanting the texts to be too long, you pressed send and started a new one, and just let yourself type.

'his arrogant confidence is infuriating, but at the same time, there is this commanding dominance in the tone of his voice. like all i could think about earlier was him bullying me down onto my knees, telling me it's okay to be a weak little slut and take his cock into my mouth like a good girl.'

"oh holy fuck, you little masochist," scaramouche whispers nearly dropping his phone reading your text. and you are typing still. he knew he couldn't say anything though, so he waits, his hand itching to reach down and stroke his cock.

'and i would gladly sink to my knees for him. i am blushing just thinking about it. i even want to play with myself, it's so hot to think about. it's making me really wet thinking about him degrading me while i choke on his cock. i want him to tell me it's okay to be weak. to not think and just focus on pleasing him because that's what i am ultimately good for. omg i am so sorry, please don't read this. thank you.'

scaramouche quickly took a screen shot before the messages disappeared. as much as he wants to find you and force you onto your knees exactly like you describe, he knew he wouldn't benefit him any. in fact, it would blow everything to hell. he reads your texts again, his hand fisting his hard cock, wishing the cum that spilled onto his hand was going into pretty your mouth instead.

over the next few weeks, scaramouche relentlessly bullied you, and you settle into something of a routine with kuni. once scaramouche was done with you, you would text kuni, spilling your racing thoughts into what you thought were blank text messages that you deleted unseen when are done.

'i can't thank you enough for always letting me do this, kuni. it's really helping a lot. if you ever need to vent in the same way, please do so. believe me, i can barely type these words. i didn't get much sleep last night. all i could think about was scaramouche tying me up, and degrading me for begging him to cum inside me while he fucks me senseless. i know i should stay away from him, but i can't help it.'

'he can never find out about this.'

you are effectively giving scaramouche all the tools he needs to corrupt you. you have no idea you are putting opportunities gift wrapped right into his lap. now, he could start sinking his claws into you.

you have no idea just how close he really is. there are only so many places you could go on campus. scaramouche knows your routine like the back of his hand. he has a few classes with you, and it's always easy for him to be in the right place, watching you while he bullshits with his friends.

usually, when you are out getting food or in between classes, you always text kuni, letting him know exactly what you are up to and where you are. you probably text kuni because being out around people makes you nervous.

'hey, kuni. i hope you have eaten today. i am grabbing some quick dinner right now. after, I'll probably go back to my room and watch tv or something.'

scaramouche looks right at you from across campus while you type. you are so painfully naive that it's adorable. you had no idea he's been following you the entire day, carefully blended in and unnoticed.

'hey, i just ate a little while ago. how was your day?' he texts back, immediately putting his phone in his pocket. you are defenseless and easy pickings right now. and he now knew you had nothing to do tonight. he is going to change that.

scaramouche waits until you get your food, and makes a beeline right for you as you leave the campus cafeteria. "so even nerds eat, i see," he trots up behind you, snatching your food out of your hand.

"will you please give that back? i didn't have breakfast earlier. i kind of..overslept," you reach for your food container, a blush dusting your cheeks as he holds your takeout box above his head.

"like i give a shit," he scoffs, watching your tits bounce as you jump to try reach for your container. smirking, he puts a hand on your chest and gently shoved you backwards. "what do nerds eat anyways?" he laughs, dancing away from you as he opens the container.

"what's it matter to you? you aren't eating it," you shyly try and reason with him while at the same time trying feebly to stand up for yourself. but you felt yourself getting weak in the knees like you always did. you could clock your body down to the minute it reacted it had become so routine for you.

"maybe i am hungry," scaramouche flips the lid closed, and walks away with your food. exactly like he thought, when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you coming after him. he revels in how much darker the blush on your cheeks got so fast.

"look, at least give me half if you want it that badly," you try several times to grab the container out of his hand, only for him to take it right out of your reach as he walks.

scaramouche laughs as he stops in front of his dorm. "nah, i don't share," he tosses your container into the trashcan next to his dorm room and opens the door. you wouldn't need that anyways. if he got his way, and he would, you wouldn't be leaving his dorm tonight. he can always get you something to eat later.

he is completely used to always getting what he wants.

you stare in disbelief at your food in the trash can. "i..i..why did you do that?" you swallow you pounding heart in your chest. it shouldn't feel this good to be bullied. you didn't think your cheeks could get any more red. the condescending tone he has sent a pleasant shiver right down to your clit.

sighing, scaramouche curls his fingers underneath your chin. "you should see the look on your face," he tilts your head up to look him. "yeah, that one right there," his hand caresses your cheek, his thumb lightly skimming across to your lower lip as you look at him.

"what do you mean?" it felt like a reflex for you to turn your cheek into his hand, the action happening before you knew it was. you long forgot about your food. the only thing you can do is focus on him. just looking up into his eyes flusters you.

"you look like you would get down on your knees and suck me off if i asked you to," it's infuriating how cute you look to him right now. your cheek was nuzzling slightly into his hand, much like a pet would.

clicking the ball of his tongue piercing on his teeth, scaramouche waits for your reaction. if you chose to walk away, he would let you. but he knew you wouldn't. whatever happens next is entirely up to you.

"what if i told you i would?" you shook a little as the words came tumbling out of your mouth. hearing his words reminds you of how wet you are. it took everything you had not to look away from him.

scaramouche froze for a moment, processing what you said. he honestly didn't expect you to be so straightforward. he thought he would have to bully it out of you. "c'mere," he takes his hand off your cheek, and grabs your wrist.

hastily, he pulls you into his dorm and shuts the door. "i'll bet you can't show me you are serious. weak nerds like you cave so easily," he scoffs, deciding to test you a little by putting his hand on your shoulder.

you shiver the moment he applies pressure, sinking to your knees if front of him. scaramouche's eyes widen for a moment as you look up at him. "i can prove it," you say, smiling softly at you nuzzle your cheek on his pelvis. "let me prove i can be a good girl for you." right now, in this moment, this is exactly where you want to be.

he grit his teeth looking down at you. "you know, you look adorable on your knees," he has spent so many nights with his hand fisting his cock, thinking about you in this exact position. looking up at him with utter adoration. fuck, it is making him hard.

you stay submissively quiet on your knees as he unbuttons his jeans. taking out his cock, he puts a hand on the back of your head. "open," he commands, tapping his index finger on his lips.

your eyes light up as you willingly open your mouth. his hand on the back of your head brings your mouth close to his leaking cock. he pokes the tip against your lips, smearing precum on them as he pushes it into your mouth.

your tongue flattens as you lick the slit, wrapping your hand around his cock. "fuck, i knew you were a weak slut," scaramouche hisses as your tongue glides wet on his cock head. his hand tightens in your hair, pushing your mouth onto his cock more, "be the good girl you promised you would be and suck."

you moan, opening your mouth to take his cock in. it pulses thick on your tongue as you suck. he groans as you gently grind the roof of your mouth on his cock. your clit throbs at his degradation, your panties clinging wetter between your legs.

he drinks in the look of adoration welling deeper in your eyes. it straight up makes him moan with pent up need. "that right, slut. keep sucking just like that," he holds your head in place, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth.

your pussy clenched hearing him degrade you so harshly. you muffle a moan on his cock, your sucks turning more eager as you stroke your fingers on the part that wasn't in your mouth. scaramouche rests his head against the wall, bobbing your mouth on his cock.

you rub your thighs together as drool pools out the corner of your mouth. you didn't need to think about anything other than pleasing him. your throat spasms around his cock as it suddenly hits the back of your throat.

"good girl, choking on my cock so well," he pushes hit into your throat again to feel the pure pleasure of it spasming pliable on his cock. you look so intoxicating right now, content to let him use your mouth to get off. the look in your eyes screams, please, enjoy me.

scaramouche has to bite back his whimper as his cock pulses in your mouth. "fuck, i am cumming," he mumbles as cum spurts warm and salty into your mouth. "swallow it all, whore," he groans, relaxing his hand on your hair and letting you suck him through his orgasm. his hand strokes through your hair until he pulls out of your mouth.

you obediently swallow, blushing as you saw a string of saliva connecting your tongue with his cock. sighing, he puts his cock back in his pants. it's so fucking sweet how you are looking up at him for some sort of guidance as to what to do next.

you really would look so pretty all collared up for him like the perfect pet.

"have you ever smoked pot before?" he asks, walking to grab a joint off his nightstand. he knew exactly what your answer would be. as he sits down, he pats the bed in signal for you to come sit with him.

"no, i haven't," you get to your feet, shyly making your way over to sit on his bed, "but i have been curious," you thought he would send you on your way once he got what he wanted. your heart is skipping beats in your chest at the thought of staying with him.

scaramouche spends the next few hours, shotgunning hits into your mouth while you watch him play video games. with each hit, his tongue devours your mouth, his lips needy on yours. he doesn't stop until your eyes look glazed over and hazy, and you are lying relaxed next to him on your stomach.

admittedly, he couldn't say he have an interior motive. as much as he wants his precious to relax, getting you high would make you more pliable for him. after a few hours of some conversation and smoking another joint, scaramouche turns off his game and rolls you over onto your back.

without a word, he captures your lips in a rough kiss. it strokes his ego how it takes no time at all for you to start moaning softly into his mouth as he devours yours with his tongue. his kisses turn more possessive as he takes your clothes off, carelessly tossing them on the floor.

he chuckles seeing the blush on your cheeks as he spreads your legs and slots himself between them. "why do you look so shy, hm?" his tongue dips between your folds, "you were sucking my cock like an eager slut a couple hours ago. it's cute, really," smirking, he licks stripes up and down your pussy.

your hips rock up to grind your pussy on his mouth. the wagging of his tongue piercing on your throbbing clit makes whimper tinged moans bubble up in your throat.

you don't know how much time passes as scaramouche tongue fucks your pussy until you start whimpering and moaning uncontrollably, his hands possessive and bruising on your hips as your hips they buck into his mouth.

you'd sucked him off so well. he has to reward you by returning the favor. as much as he wants to sink his cock inside of your tight, wet cunt right now, he knows just his tongue fucking into your hole will have to do. a delicate thing like you had to be corrupted slowly or you might shatter way too fast.

you passed right out shortly after cumming hard on his tongue, whimpering and shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. he keeps you tucked under his blanket, curled up against his side with your head resting on his chest.

"hey, are you awake?" he asks softly, tapping his index finger on your head. you didn't even stir, and he wasn't surprised. this had been your first smoke pot, and he had gotten you quite high before eating you out.

"don't worry, winter break is coming. everything will be okay then," he whispers, stroking his hand through your hair. you'd looked so fragile and delicate standing in the food court earlier. overwhelmed and tired. that if someone clapped at you the wrong way you would break.

life is full of loud and scary things. things that would break you. he couldn't have that. when winter break comes in a few weeks, he would make everything okay. before he went to sleep, he read a text that you'd sent a few days ago:

'i think i am really in love with my bully.'

[vicetrevni]

This is making me rethink my interactions with my boyfriend.

Whenever we've had 'private' moments (we are long distance and do everything over the phone), especially in the very beginning, he was very pushy about me doing *more* with him. Even when I was on my period, feeling sick, or just wasn't in the mood at the time. He would be like 'come on babe show me more and do more with me I'm so horny' even when I told him no at least 2-3 times.

Now, I have issues with setting/keeping boundaries. So I felt bad for telling him no, but I stuck my ground and told him he was being way too pushy and demanding. Thankfully he stopped, he genuinely felt bad for acting that way and even said I could break up with him if I felt he was being a jerkass. But we patched it up, and now he completely respects my boundaries because he sees how bad he was treating me all that time.

It just makes me think, seeing women be so cautious during even the first date with a guy. Maybe if we had met face to face at the time, he could've tried legit forcing me and I'd end up hurt. But I am glad that, in my situation, we are discussing these things despite never having actually 'met' for real yet. And I'll definitely be keeping this in mind if we ever to finally meet, thankfully I have my family as backup for this so I'm not entirely alone.

I hope that all the women out there who read this know that I wish you all the best and you all stay safe <3

If a girl feels uncomfortable hanging out with you alone, and you get so offended by that, it makes you angry, she probably made the right choice.

[bratbarzal]

Could you please do ⁵⁾ “i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” with Nico?

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” this also goes out to the anon who requested this exact line with meier sister reader bc it's where my brain immediately went when I saw this!!!! BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND!NICO NATION WE UP!!! RISE AND SHINE!!!

*this includes sexual references, but no actual smut.

"Stop watching me like that."

Nico sits at the top of the bed, the bed sheet only just covering his modesty as his legs sprawl out from beneath the covers. He has one arm stretched across the pillow you just vacated, and another scratching slowly at his stomach, where the soft patch of hair on his abdomen disappears under the flimsy strip of cotton.

He looks like sex personified, and he needs to give it a rest.

Laughter rumbles lowly from the depths of his chest, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes follow you - rushing around the room to retrieve the clothes he had torn from your body maybe an hour ago now. You hop back into your panties, and then your shorts, and it's as you're clipping your bra back on that he asks, "Like what?"

His tone is teasing, familiar, exactly the kind of flirty cadence that had lured you into his bed earlier today, in the first place - passing by a little too close for comfort with a hand on your hip, and lips to your ear, muttering how good your ass looked in your shorts before he planted a quick, light smack to it.

He knows what he's doing.

"Like you could go again," you huff, buttoning at the light, summery shirt you were wearing before as you look up at him.

"Maybe I could," he shrugs, straightening up in a way that makes the sheet slip dangerously low, an action that attracts your gaze like a high powered magnet, stuck on him until you can shake yourself out of it. "Maybe we should."

"No," you rattle your head, trying to claw back any kind of sense or dignity, diverting your attention in search of your sandals. "Not happening. I need to go shower. I smell like a combination of a sex den and you."

"And what's wrong with that?" he chuckles, "You use my stuff in the shower every time you come over, you wear my clothes when you leave, why's today any different?"

"Because we're on vacation with my brother, Nico," you huff, finding where you had kicked them off and they had slid toward his side of the bed. "He catches a whiff of you on me, on today of all days, and he'll throw you overboard the next time we're out on the boat."

"C'mon," he sighs, although that tempting smirk remains, and shuffles his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet slipping, forcing you to spin on your heels to avoid staring down the barrel of what you have no doubt is, once again, a loaded gun.

That man is insatiable.

You hear his laughter from behind you, along with footsteps that fall out of pattern for a brief second, and you're thankful when a large hand places itself on your upper arm to turn you, that he's at least wearing boxers now.

"We can't keep sneaking around forever, it's been long enough, don't you think?"

You feel your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you close, his assertive grip holding you in place with fingers now curved around the back of your waist, and you sigh - a big one, that despite the heaviness of it, does little to quell the anxiety swirling around your chest.

"I thought you wanted to wait until the season was finished," you frown, distinctly remembering how you felt after that conversation back in November - when your situation became a lot less casual, and Nico had officially asked you to be his girlfriend one morning when he had finally run out of other excuses for you not to leave his bed.

"I did," he muses, fingers pressing into your flesh and forcing you forward, until you're flat against him, and once again encompassed by his ever lasting warmth. "But now I'm tired of hiding. Just want to love on you, not just in private or when Timo isn't looking."

His actions mimic his words as his hands start to wander, and his lips press soft, lingering kisses in a trail from your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck.

You melt, as you always do, body feeling like putty that moulds to his touch and sticks to his fingers as he reels you back in.

"We can't hard launch to my brother on Valentines Day, Nico," you mumble, your resolve weakening by the second with every slight ministration, his lips nipping at all the sensitive parts of your neck and his hands seeking out whatever skin he can get to first.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice low just beside your ear - so low that it sends a shiver down your spine, your chest pressing straight to his. "It's technically our anniversary after all."

This whole thing had started last year - in his bye-week - not long after you had moved in with your brother, and had been invited with the two of them and a couple more of their friends for a week-long trip.

What had always been teasing and lingering between you and Nico had swiftly evolved into more - one night of one too many drinks leading you straight to his bed, and one night leading to something frequent and forbidden.

Something changed in the summer - the two of you meeting up a little more back in Switzerland, when you weren't under your older brother's constant supervision, and you weren't worrying about being caught all the time, and then when you all came back to the states, you found yourself in Nico's bed more often than your own.

“I couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you I am.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at the revelation, muttered straight into your ear - it taking you a second to get past the vibration of his words down your whole entire body before you register exactly what he said.

And then you lean back, your faces close as you turn to meet his eye - that captivating glimmer shining straight across dark chocolate irises, the smirk from before melting into something softer, more serious, more real.

"You're in love with me?" You ask, watching the smile slowly grow.

"Obviously," he replies, his thumb swiping gentle strokes into your spine, not giving it a chance to tense up or stiffen at the revelation - still moulded perfectly to his touch. "I don't risk my life at the hands of your brother for just anybody."

You smile too, despite the four-tonne block of anxiety that's launching itself your way at the all the possible ways this could go wrong.

Nico loves you.

And Timo's just gonna have to deal with it.

"I'm in love with you too," you tell him, leaning in immediately to press a kiss to his lips, like sealing the sentiment in place, feeling them curve against your own.

"Good," he mutters against you, kissing and kissing until you're too far gone again to do anything about it. "We should fuck again to celebrate, just in case your brother kills me."

You giggle, still not pulling back, letting his feet shuffle towards the end of the bed and guide you the same way.

You'll shower later. Probably with Nico - and the smell of his shampoo in your hair might give the two of you away, but who cares.

He's in love with you.

[russellbee]

DONE LOOKIN’ FOR SIGNS IN THE GAPS AND THE SILENCE (LN4, MF)

lando norris x childhood bff!reader x max fewtrell (she/her) summary. the timeline of your friendship with lando and max, leading up to the day they finally become yours. (writing, small smau) (5.2k) warnings. conflicting thoughts on polyamory, cursing, mentions of drinking alcohol, a nameless older sister that's basically a plot device :P andi's note!! IT'S HERE!! i hope you all enjoy :D! gonna go eat dinner 😊 (title from decode by sabrina carpenter) -> the inspiration/original

nav+masterlist • tags: @aykxz98 & @makanirock05 :)

July 2013 — 14 years old

You've come to the decision that you hate Italy. Which is not true, but the heat clinging to your skin has made you a bit irrational. It's not all the heat, but it's easier to blame something intangible on your bad mood than your actual problem. Your sister speaks — something about water or the weather — before walking off. You're not sure.

You watch her leave, the anger festering in you releasing through you harshly pulling your arms out of your suit. The sleeves flop beside you, resting on the pavement. You stare at them for a second, feeling sick in the stomach.

A liability. Why do you even keep going, then?

In November, your parents will tell you what you already know, but they'll dress it nicely. The harsh version is: You have no future in racing; you'll have to find something else to do. There's still a couple of months, but you can feel yourself already missing the thrill of karting and getting a cool trophy to decorate your room with. It's not fair, truthfully, but your sister had been a warning. You're just following her footsteps now.

This whole week, you've watched the boys around you, the ones wearing the same suit as you, racing carefree because they don't need reassurance that they can go far. They will, most likely. You've had a bitter taste on your tongue since overhearing your father's phone call. You shouldn't have listened.

"Are you okay?" You blink, looking up at who spoke. He's wearing a Ricky Flynn suit, bright and obnoxious. But he also looks genuine, like he cares about how you're doing. That's new.

"Um, I'm fine." As an afterthought, you add, "Thanks." He could be about your age, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's younger. He's probably around the same height as an elf.

"Do— Would you want to get lunch with Max and me? It's not— like our parents are gonna be there. Obviously. But we think you're cool, and we want to hang out with you." When he's stopped speaking, he lets out a breath like he didn't breathe the entire time. "I'm Lando, by the way." Max? He can't be talking about Verstappen because you're pretty sure he went home directly after his race. So, Fewtrell, then. The longer you squint at Lando, the more you remember him hovering in the background of your memories, Max Fewtrell by his side.

"I'd have to ask my sister." His whole face lights up, and it's ridiculous but endearing at the same time. "Yeah, cool. Cool."

You get lunch with Lando, Max, and their families. Your sister exchanges your parents' information with theirs, and there's a silent promise to hang out again. It's nice, a bit of weight off your shoulders.

You even get to spend your weekend in Italy, a rare permission from your parents. When you get home, your digital camera, the one you'd gotten for your most recent birthday, is full of photos. Your sister helps you get them printed out, and together you decorate the walls of your room with your photos. At night, you stare at the singular framed photo on your nightstand; you, Lando, and Max huddled together in a restaurant booth. It stays there until you move out.

December 2015 — 16 years old

The cold air bites your exposed skin when you step out onto the street. Lando hisses like a cat at the feeling, hunching his shoulders, and bringing his arms closer to his body. As you laugh, you can see your breath in the air, like a fog. Max pulls his beanie off his head, fitting it over Lando's, who squeaks at the sudden intrusion. "If you don't stop pouting, I'm taking it back." He adds, rolling his eyes when Lando huffs.

"I'm not pouting! I'm just saying we could've left earlier, and it would've been a bit warmer." Max pushes Lando in the back, urging him to start walking. They fit themselves beside you, Max on your left and Lando on your right. "How are we supposed to see the lights then? The whole reason we're leaving now is to see all the decorations and stuff." Max teases, raising an eyebrow at Lando. He goes to speak but he closes his mouth, eyes trained on your face.

"Right. Yeah, ‘bet they'll look cool." Your face feels too hot for this weather. You keep your eyes forward and try to ignore the feeling of their eyes on you, sneaking glances like you don't know. Once the Christmas market is in your view you speed up your pace. Distantly, you can hear Max speak — such a suck-up, mate — and Lando's offended noise. You can imagine how red he must look.

"Hurry up!" You yell, not even looking back. You stop near the entrance to the market, pulling your camera from your coat pocket. Scratches litter the outside, but luckily not the lens, some that you've covered with random stickers you've come across. There are also two distinct signatures, small but noticeable. So when we go pro you can sell it, be as rich as us. Lando had said, and you had rolled your eyes and told them earnestly you wouldn't sell it. They both turned bright red, and you chose not to acknowledge it.

You turn it on, panning the camera around the market to see if your photos might look good. They won't, you know it. Your camera's too old, and it was never excellent even when you first got it. But you like the memories, even if your favorites are too blurry to understand. You finally turn around, Max and Lando coming into view on the tiny screen. Before they can notice, you take a photo, laughing at Max's groan when he realizes. He'll always complain about you and Lando's theatrics, but he's just as dramatic.

In the photo, Lando is smiling bright, his cheeks rosy red. Max is blurry from his sudden movement, but you can make out his smile in the mess of colors.

You stay at the market till it closes, eating too much food and drinking an absurd amount of hot chocolate. Your SD card is full when you get home because Lando had snatched your camera when you were distracted. It's only 10 pm when you get back to your sister's apartment, so you decide to watch a movie on the pull-out couch.

When the light floods through the windows in the morning, you're still there. Lando is on your right, and Max on your left. They're both turned toward you, their heads resting on your shoulders. Lando's curled up against your side, and one of Max's legs rests on top of yours. It's too much. You wouldn't mind if it was just one of them, but both is suffocating. It feels wrong, to have them this close to you.

You hold your breath and leave the couch as quietly as possible. Your sister's bedroom door is ajar, and you slip into her bed like you were supposed to last night: Sharing beds like you had ten years ago. She blinks at you as you get comfortable, tugging her comforter closer to you. "I was wondering when you were going to join me." You huff, turning so she can't see how flustered you are. "Nice night with your boys?"

"Stop talking," You grumble. She laughs and lets it be; for now.

Lando and Max leave in the afternoon, heading back to their parent's houses. You lay on the couch, knees tucked against your chest as you go through the photos on your camera. The ones Lando took are noticeable, a bit blurrier than yours, and much more focused on human subjects. You and Max, specifically. In some of the photos, Max's annoyance at Lando is visible, but you can see underlying fondness in his smile and his eyes. You blink at the photos of yourself, finding similar qualities in your own face, with no difference for who you're looking at. You turn off your camera and stare into space for a bit. Your boys.

It feels greedy, to like them both. But then, if you have one, you leave out the other. There's no winning, is there?

Your sister flops onto the couch, her legs invading your personal space. You glare at her, extending your legs in retaliation. She doesn't acknowledge it, instead asking; "How'd your photos come out?"

You stare at the blank screen for a second, remembering the warmth in your eyes as you looked at Lando behind the camera. "Fine." She raises a brow, used to your rambles and rants about your pictures. Her foot nudges your ankle, bringing your eyes back to her.

"Is it what I said?" Your body goes hot, and you focus on anything other than her. "No." She sighs, pulling her legs closer toward her, giving you space. The silence is uncomfortable as you both think of something to say.

"It's fine if you like both of them, you know?" You barely think before you speak, spitting out an answer as fast as possible. A shield from your actual wants and feelings. "It's not normal." Your sister frowns before her lips twist into a teasing smile.

"Since when have you been normal? Or, any of you." You stare at her, not saying anything but not backing down either. "It's not— If all three of you like each other, you could date. It's a thing people do. If you think for whatever reason that dating them isn't going to make you happy, don't. But I know you like them and they make you happy right now. You could...try."

You can't speak, unknown words lodged in your throat, and a war in your mind. She leaves you to think, and you don’t talk about it again for a while.

November 2018 — 19 years old

Lando's birthday is no longer something intimate, spent in one of your bedrooms or a random hotel room with a shitty pre-made cake. Apparently.

When you get to the pub Lando had sent you the address of, you don't expect to see multiple tables pushed together, heaps of people you've never seen before sitting around them. You know Lando's becoming a bigger deal. He'll be an actual F1 driver in a couple of months. It's just different, but you won't complain.

You spot Max near the end of the table, and his eyes light up when he spots you. He waves you over, and you notice a chair beside him, his puffer coat taking its seat. You fight back a smile at something so simple. Nothing but a friendly gesture, right?

You maneuver through the chairs around the tables, too many people squished together in an effort to be included. Max has moved his coat so it rests along the back of his chair, and as you near him, you can hear him asking people to shuffle their chairs in. He smiles at you as you sit down, bright and charming.

"There's more people than I expected, to be honest." You mutter, looking for Lando in the mess of people. You recognize some: like Alex and George, sitting not far but clearly in their own world. "Yeah, I know, right." It's not a question, more of an annoyed grumble. You follow his gaze, finding Lando with a girl hanging off his arm. She's ridiculously pretty, maybe a little older. A model, or an influencer? How did Lando meet her?

"I— Is that like his girlfriend or something?" You whisper, your voice weak. Max glances at you, and his eyes seem to study your face before looking back at Lando. "I mean, I dunno. He's never mentioned her or anything."

"But she's here?"

"Yeah." Max sounds a little dejected, and you wonder if he knows how hard he's gripping the neck of his beer bottle. His face looks tight: his jaw clenched and eyes piercing into Lando. Who hasn't looked over; nor spared you a glance since you arrived. Did he even see you?

You slip your hand over Max's, prying his fingers from the bottle. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes before he lets you take it. You both stare at each other as you bring the bottle to your lips. The second you taste the bitterness of the beer, you screw your eyes shut, but drink it anyway. Max lets out a short laugh as you put the bottle back on the table, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"That's horrible." Max smiles, not as bright as before but, still him. "Yeah, but it's a good distraction from...that." He waves his hand in the general direction before freezing. You have another staring contest, and for a second, it looks like Max might say something, but he doesn't.

"Well, we have each other, right?" It's awkward, the silence painful. Then, Max swallows heavily, a weak yeah, leaving his lips before he takes the final swig of his beer.

You don't talk to Lando the entire night, and when it becomes clear that he'll be going home with his mystery stranger, you offer Max a night at yours.

You stumble on the uneven cobblestone street that leads up to your apartment, having split too many beers with Max. Though, he is considerably more sober than you. It feels like the air is punched out of you when Max's hand hesitantly touches your waist. You look up at him, his eyes shiny under the streetlights and a small smile on his lips. Then you back him up against the nearest building and with a quick glance at the street number, realize it's yours.

"You good?" His words are a little breathless, his hand hovering instead of touching now. Your right-hand grips the collar of his jacket, your left probably holding his hip too tightly. "Yeah, all good."

"Um." Max looks around a bit, and you realize he might be waiting for you to let him go. You don't want to. "I like you." Your words become one, but you know Max hears you because his eyes go wide. He relaxes a bit, his smile returning.

"Yeah, I—." You don't let him finish, pulling him into a kiss as soon as you know. His words turn into a small groan, and he finally grabs your waist for real. It's everything you ever wanted; a kiss from one of them. Your boys. One of Max's hands gently touches the back of your neck, moving you closer to him. When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

"But I...y'know." You can't get yourself to say it, but Max knows. "Lando?" Of course, he knows.

"Don't," He takes a breath, cutting himself off and pulling away slightly. "Me too, honestly."

You drag Max into your flat, and stay up late, talking about all the things you both want from Lando but are too scared to ask for. In the morning, you wake up with Max on your left and your phone buzzing on your right. Lando's pissy about you apparently not being at his party, and you wake up Max with your argument over the phone. He helps you calm down, assures you that you haven't accidentally torn your friendship apart, and then takes you on your first date. You can't win, but having Max by your side is close.

July 2019 — 20 years old

Max picks you up from a bus stop in Silverstone and immediately pulls you into a kiss. You make a surprised sound before kissing him back. His passion is overwhelming but not bad.

He's got a big, bright smile on his face when he pulls away. "Hello, uni grad." You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a muttered, fuck off. Max laughs, pulling you right back to him.

"I really wanted to be there, y'know." His playful tone has slipped away, replaced with fondness and a tinge of guilt. "I know, it's fine. My parents miss you, by the way." You kiss his cheek, your pointer finger hooked in his shirt collar to pull him toward you.

Max grins, tugging you toward his rental car, right hand in your left. "They're my biggest fans, I think." You split, letting go of his hand to head toward the passenger seat. "That's not true. You've got me cheering for you." The, and Lando, goes unsaid but, you know he heard it.

In Max's hotel room, your bag gets thrown to the floor in the haste of pushing Max onto his bed. Your hands creep under his shirt, cold hands on his hot skin. "Hi," You grin down at him, hovering above him, your legs straddling his. "Missed you." Max pulls you down for a kiss, his hand heavy against the back of your neck.

You inch closer to him, hands sliding further up his shirt: feeling every inch of him. Max's other hand grabs your thigh as he leans up, deepening the kiss.

"Oh my God!" You jump at your sister's voice, flipping over so you're lying on the bed beside Max. "What the fuck?" You curse, eyes going from Max to your sister, then Lando. He looks like he ate something sour, lips screwed up weird.

"Max texted us that you were here," She explains with a teasing smile that falters when she sees Lando's face. "We need to talk," She grabs you by the wrist, pulling you into the en suite. The door shuts harshly behind her, and she locks the door. She's dressed in a papaya polo because Lando vouched for her to get a job on his team. He's complained about her constant mothering, but he asked for it.

"What about Lando?" She seethes, voice quiet because you both know how thin hotel walls can be. You stare at her, your arms wrapped self-consciously around yourself. "We— It's just better this way, alright? He doesn't need any more unnecessary attention. Plus, he doesn't even—."

"Don't say he doesn't like either of you. I have seen him smile like a fucking idiot at your group chat. I have suffered through his questions about whether he's pissed you or Max off because you're 'taking too long' to respond to a text. He likes you. Stop being stupid. Both of you, honestly." She rolls her eyes, her gaze just as harsh as her words.

"You good, mate?" Max asks after a beat of silence, both of them having watched the bathroom door slam shut. His eyes have a sheen to them Max doesn't want to acknowledge, and his lips have been stuck together like they've been glued. "Why didn't you tell me?" Lando sounds hurt, devastated that you'd gone behind his back. Max gets it, but he's had time to figure it out. Neither of you have been hiding it.

"I mean, we thought you'd figure it out?" Truthfully Lando knowing was never really discussed. A silent agreement had hung over the both of you because neither of you wanted to know how Lando would react.

"Congrats, I guess." Lando scuffs his shoe against the carpet, not looking at Max.

"Right. Thanks."

December 2019 — 20 years old

yourusername 🏔️🩵 (tagged landonorris, maxfewtrell)

liked by yoursister and others

maxfewtrell 👋🩵 (liked by yourusername)

landonorris sick pics 👍

yourusername thanks lan 🙃

yourfriend cuteee! (liked by yourusername)

yoursister no lando?

yourusername he's in the last pic? 😐 yoursister not what i meant (commented deleted by author) yoursister right didn't see him there!

August 2020 — 21 years old

You walk into the bedroom in your flat that you share with Max, a plastic bag in your hand. Guilty pleasure foods and sugary drinks. An in-the-moment fixer-upper. You turn on the light, finding Lando lying on Max's right, head on his shoulder, watching him mindlessly scroll on his phone. No one says anything for a bit before Lando goes to get up. "You can stay," You swallow heavily, feeling like there's a lump in your throat. "If you want." He stops, sinking back into the bed.

It's fine. It's everything you've ever wanted, but it's not true. Max is yours, and Lando's like an addition. He'll be here tonight, but maybe never again.

You drop the bag on your desk chair, pulling off the hoodie you wore to the shops. It was too hot out for it, but you didn't want to let go of it; Max's cologne clinging to every thread. One of them makes a little noise as your shirt rides up like the hoodie doesn't want you to go. Lando probably. You know what Max sounds like.

You hesitate before slipping into bed, to the left of Max. Lando's on his other side, clinging a little. His head is back on Max's shoulder, and his arm is wrapped loosely around your boyfriend's. You shuffle closer to Max, and he hesitantly wraps his arm around you, eyeing you. Are you okay with this? You sling your arm around his chest with ease, your hand resting by Lando's face. Yeah. Obviously.

You're all silent except for your breathing.

Max huffs after a moment, dropping his phone so it lays on him. "It's too hot for this." Truthfully, it is. But you don't want to admit it, and neither does Lando. You roll your eyes, "The fans on. We'll be fine." Max shifts, putting his phone somewhere else without moving away from either of you. You close your eyes, your head tucked near the crook of Max's neck.

"Go to sleep," Lando mumbles, and you can hear Max grumble. His body relaxes under you, and you can feel his head move, tilting toward Lando. It's the quickest you've fallen asleep in months.

You wake in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and lying half on Max. Lando's eyes blink at you in the dark, but you can't make out the rest of his face. You move your hand, your fingers gently brushing against his face. He breathes in harshly, eyes darting to Max's sleeping figure. "We both want you here, y'know? I don't mind. I'm sure Max doesn't either."

Lando blinks, then again and again. "Yeah, that's cool. I'll...I'll be here. When you want me to." His fingers ghost your hand, and you can feel the heat of his hand even if the touch is barely there. "We always want you." He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and then you can't see the shine of his eyes anymore, and the heat of his hand is gone. You hesitate before moving your hand, letting it linger near him. If he ever wants it back. You back.

August 2022 — 23 years old

In your hotel room in Ibiza, room service has been ordered. Lando is digging through his suitcase, and Max is looking at a collection of photos on his phone; taken over the past few days. You've only been in Ibiza for a couple of hours, work keeping you from joining them sooner.

You're basically sleeping, your head resting on Max's shoulder and looking at the photos through bleary eyes. Fucking early flights. There's a knock on the room door, and Max gets up to answer it. You fall onto the bed with a groan, curling up into a ball. Lando laughs in the distance.

A finger prods at your spine, and you bend your back, trying to get away from it. "C'mon, get up. Food's here." You nuzzle your face in the sheets with a muffled, "Let me sleep." Max moves, footsteps trailing off in the distance.

"You hate cold food. Get up." Lando's hands prod at your sides, and you squirm, sitting up to get away from him. "Asshole," You curse, ignoring the heat in your face. Lando giggles, heading toward the balcony where the plates have been set. You stretch, groaning at the feeling, before joining them on the balcony.

You sit next to Max and go to dig into your food when you notice a wrapped box on the table. "What's that?" Lando visibly brightens, grabbing the box and extending it toward you. "I was gonna give it to you at Silverstone ‘cause I thought you were coming. But, y'know." You take the box hesitantly, nodding along to what Lando says.

You had intended to go to Silverstone with Max, but then a project at work was fumbled by a coworker, and you had to pick up the pieces. It was nice to hear Max's recaps of the day, with Lando's comments in between; on the phone with them like you had when you were younger.

The box is wrapped badly, so at least you know Lando wrapped it himself. You hook your finger in an opening, tearing off the paper. At first, you think you're going crazy, your sleepiness jumbling the words on the box. Then, you're dreaming because in what world is Lando buying you a €4,600 camera? "Lando." Your voice is a bit harsher than you intended, and you see the worry fill his face. "You— Why would you buy me this? I barely take photos anymore." A Leica Q2: the camera you had recommended for Lando. Not for you. Because you knew he had the money and wanted to be artsy and dramatic. You didn't need this. You're fine with the camera you picked up at a second-hand shop after your digital camera gave out.

"I thought it was just ‘cause you had a...bad camera. I can return it. I just thought you'd like it. When you recommended it, you sounded like you were in love with it. And— You deserve it." Lando's eyes flicker to Max's, who have been more focused on him than you.

"I'll keep it, but don't spend this much money on me again." Your fingers gently touch the box; hesitantly because this camera just became the most expensive thing you own. Lando laughs weakly, awkward because Max hasn't taken his eyes off him.

You go out to eat later in the night, and when Max disappears to the bathroom you get a text.

max 💞 he likes you

100%

you shut up

max 💞 i looked up the camera it's fucking expensive

you i know (6:38 pm)

max do you think he likes me too? (6:44 pm)

You don't respond to his text, but when he comes back to the table, you squeeze his hand in silent reassurance. Lando watches from the other side of the table, looking guilty. Neither of you notice, too caught up in your thoughts.

July 2023 — 24 years old

2nd mother don't forget what we talked about!

lando 🙄 ik

"Are you listening?" Lando looks up from his phone, immediately shutting it off at Max's annoyed look. The apology is on the tip of his tongue, but Max rolls his eyes and keeps talking.

"I was thinking about that restaurant down the corner for Wednesday?" Lando's nose scrunches up, thinking of the sushi bar just a few buildings down. Apparently, Max can read his mind. "Not the sushi place, the one with all the...plants and stuff. I don't know the name, Y/n does I think."

"She's uh, coming with us then?" Max's eyes narrow, and Lando shrinks because he read this wrong. He thought it'd just be him and Max, and now he can't flirt with Max in front of his girlfriend, can he? There's also the uneasiness in his stomach when around you both at the same time that he doesn't want to feel. He feels left out; and wants to be a trio again, preferably with more physical affection, thanks. "Yeah, well. Neither of us have seen you in a while."

Lando stares at Max for a second, sees his anger in the tightness of his shoulders. He should spit it out already.

"I just— I don't want to be your third wheel anymore."

"Then get a girlfriend. I'm sure you've got enough girls in your dms to find one." Max sounds pissed, but that's not what Lando was trying to say. He groans, leaning against the counter in his kitchen, head in his hands.

"That's not what I meant!" He looks at Max as he says, "I want it to be us three again, like a trio or a fucking throuple. I want both of you and I have been excluded for years. I'm desperate at this point, Max."

"You're kidding." Max's voice is weak, staring at Lando like he's grown five heads. "No, I'm not."

"You should've said something sooner, you muppet." Max's hand gently touches the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Lando groans, gripping onto Max's t-shirt like he'll float away. He could stay in this moment forever, but there's still someone missing.

On Wednesday, you meet Max and Lando at the restaurant down the street from Lando's London apartment. You hadn't been able to attend Silverstone, again, stuck in another country for work. But you're here, and they're smiling brightly when they see you. You don't even get to say 'hi' before Lando pulls you into a hug, restricting but very warm and familiar. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. Now, let go. I don't think I can breathe." Lando laughs, letting go of you so you can hug Max. They both look happier than they have in a while, and you can't help but question it. You don't get to voice your opinion before you're pulled into the restaurant.

The table is a slightly bigger single table, so there's enough space for all your plates. You sit with your back to the rest of the building, Max on your left and Lando on your right. Things feel like they've shifted; Lando seems more like his old self around you two — another question to ask.

Max is discussing something with Lando about Quadrant when you feel something tap your ankle underneath the table. You eye Lando, who's got an impish grin on his face.

You forget about it until his shoe bumps your ankle again, causing you to hit your knee against the table. Max stops talking, looking at both you and Lando. "Everything all right?"

"Yep, all good," You say before kicking Lando's calf underneath the table. He tries to hide his pain, but Max can tell, rolling his eyes. "You're both terrible. I swear I can't take you anywhere together."

"Well, that's gonna be a problem, isn't it?" Lando murmurs, and they've both got matching teasing grins.

"Alright, what's going on? All of a sudden you're like reading each other's minds. Tell me."

"Lando wants us to be a throuple. You, me, him." Max grins, and well, that explains a lot. You barely think before you speak. "You're kidding."

Lando rolls his eyes, "Is it so hard to believe that I could like both of you?" You look at Max, who shrugs, "Well— I love you guys, just accept it. Deal with it. There's no going back from here." Lando cuts Max off, grabbing both your hands and dragging them toward the center of the table.

"You're all mine now. Double WAGs...Wait, can Max be a WAG or is there something different for that?"

"Just stop talking. That's probably the least of our worries."

i'm thinking of making a lil addition of this from like fans/internet perspective if anyone's interested? cause i love writing stuff like that lol 😊 tell me your thoughts?

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Five

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Tensions and emotion have been building for weeks and weeks. You're still trying to reconcile what your relationship - and your future - was, and what it is now. Everything comes to a head.

Warnings: Angst. Mention of masturbation and sex. Language.

A/N: Rest of the series can be found here.

"How's my beautiful girl? I can't wait to see how gorgeous you'll look."

You sighed inwardly as you read Jessie's text as you and your friends waited. You were wedding dress shopping today and this was your first booking of the day.

Jessie's text sparked a smile, however it was brief as your eye was drawn to the prior messages from the other day.

------

"Hey, I know it's [y/friend's] birthday dinner on Friday and the reservation is at 6:00. Do you know if we're all starting right away or do you think there'll be drinks first and then dinner later?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Well, it's just that Zoie starts swimming Friday and her class starts at 5:30. I'm just trying to sort out how I might be able to do both."

"Babe?"

"I don't have to go to her class. It's totally fine. There'll be others."

"It's fine Jess. Just show up when you can."

"No, it's okay. They probably won't even do much day one. I'll go to the next one."

"Jess. Go to Zoie's class. She'd want you there."

"You sure? It's not too, too far from where you guys are meeting. So I shouldn't be overly late. I'll bring [y/friend] a bottle of her favourite wine."

"All good. We'll be happy to see you whenever you get there."

-------

You sighed again as you finished rereading. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard and you found it difficult to muster up the energy to respond. You did though.

"You know you're not supposed to see the wedding dress until the actually wedding, right? lol"

You name was called and your head snapped up and a polite smile crossed your face as you stood. You tucked your phone away and your friends ushered you along after the consultant.

"It says here you have a December wedding," the consultant remarked as she turned to you with a warm smile while you walked.

"Oh, yeah," you answered tepidly, somehow caught off guard by the comment.

"Winter weddings are nice! And we don't get quite as many of those," she commented lightly as she continued to lead you and your friends to the room at the back.

"Oh. My fiancée is a footballer, so we scheduled it during her off season."

"Very nice," she said. "Now, what kind of a style were you thinking for your dress?" She asked as you reached your destination and she turned to you with clasped hands awaiting your response.

Your mind went eerily blank. You'd envisioned a dress, or at least a couple, several times before. You'd pictured Jessie standing at the end of the aisle, tears in her eyes as she watched you walk down the aisle. You'd pictured how tenderly she'd hold your hands as you said your vows. You'd pictured her slipping the band on your finger. The kiss.

But right now you just felt tired and you mind slowly churned as it tried to conjure up a vision.

You blushed in embarrassment. "Um, I don't really know. Whatever looks good, I guess," you said with a laugh you hoped didn't sound too forced.

Your friends immediately jumped in with ideas and for that were you thankful.

Soon you were offered option after option after option. One dress held up after another, each awaiting your approval or disapproval, everyone watching you closely. You could feel your nerves starting to fray as this whole exercise began to overwhelm you.

Eventually, to put a stop to the carousel of dresses, you picked the one that actually stayed in your mind throughout the barrage of options. Everyone chattered excitedly as the dress was retrieved and the consultant opened the lush curtains to the fitting room.

You stepped in and she began to prepare some things for you. Subconsciously you retrieved your phone, looking for some kind of distraction and reprieve from the way your heart was beating loud in your chest.

You opened Instagram mindlessly and the first story on your feed was one Sara posted.

You hadn't wanted to add her. But she extended an invite, and, well, Jessie had her now too, so you might as well be in than out.

You vaguely noted the consultant talking to you over her shoulder, but you were more focused on the clip of Jessie and Zoie kicking a soccer ball back and forth at the park, laughing and running together. The caption, "She wants to be just like her mama" sent a searing pain through your chest.

"Okay, you're all set."

"Hm?" You asked blankly as you looked up from your phone to the woman. Your eyes darted between her and the dress and you plastered a smile on your face. "Oh, great. Thank you."

"Don't worry much about fit right now. It's probably going to feel bulky and not quite right, but that's all stuff we tailor and sort out as part of the alterations. Now, do you want to call one of your friends in to help with the dress?"

"Oh, yeah," you said as you shook your head out with another practiced smile while you tried to stay present.

Your friend helped you step into the dress and you even managed to have a laugh during the whole process as she zipped you up. A soft smile was still on your face as she turned you towards the full-length mirrors. She rested her hands on your shoulders as she took you in, a smile of awe on her face.

You looked at your reflection as you stood there in what could be your wedding dress. You were smiling in the mirror, a smile of yours that had become second nature the past few months and one that you were oh so sick of. This image before you - you smiling in this gorgeous gown, a vision of you at the alter - it felt distant and foreign. You didn't recognize this person.

"You look stunning. What do you think?" Your friend asked. You smiled further.

"I like it," you lied.

As she unzipped you later, you purposefully made a request that drew her away and left you to stand there quietly in front of the mirror alone as you held up the dress with one hand.

This should've been a joyous moment. Instead, you felt like you were mourning a future that never came to be.

That image of Jessie laughing and running around with Zoie - knowing that it was Sara watching on, not you - flashed through your mind.

There were two parallel worlds happening. Jessie your fiancée. Jessie, doting parent to a daughter that wasn't yours, dedicated co-parent and partner to someone who wasn't you.

You stared at yourself for a few moments before your eyes began to sting and your lip trembled. You immediately turned away and took a deep, shuddering breath.

You had a choice to make. Or rather, whether you liked it or not, it felt like the choice had been made for you.

---------

You heard Jessie's key slide into the lock and the bolt turn before the door opened. Her voice carried down the hall as you heard her taking off her shoes, bags rustling in hand.

"Hey, you didn't get back to me, so I just picked up some stuff for stir fry. Is that okay?"

You didn't reply.

Instead, you remained seated at the kitchen table, shoulders slack and body listless as you stared vacantly at the shining diamond ring you'd set in the middle of the table. This ring that she'd bought and given to you with love, with promise, intent and dreams.

You absently rubbed your ring finger that now felt naked. In the grand scheme of things, the ring hadn't been on your finger for all that long, but you felt something akin to phantom sensations despite it.

"Oh, there you are. Are you-"

Jessie's words died off as did her steps as she came to a stop a couple of feet from you. You didn't have to look up to know her eyes were fixed on the ring as well.

You room was heavy with silence before you finally forced yourself to look up at her. You could feel tears forming behind your eyes already. Her gaze shifted from the ring to you and you immediately noticed the shimmering of her eyes.

She visibly swallowed and when she spoke her voice trembled just so despite the faint smile she tried to force. "Hey, what's going on?"

You inhaled as you shifted in your seat to face her. You went to speak, but your throat constricted with impending emotion and your lip began to quiver as tears threatened to fall.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say as you looked up at her. She dropped your gaze, eyes shifting to the floor and you noted how her hands balled tightly into fists as she tried to control her emotions. Her eyes remained transfixed on the floor and you repeated yourself, your voice wavering this time. "I'm sorry, Jess."

She didn't say anything right away and you were about to speak when a tear fell from her, catching the light from the room before it hit the ground.

She looked up at you, eyes brimming with tears and looking so crestfallen. Her cheeks were flushed red; you reflected idly on how there was a time when you'd have inspired that in her as a blush, now here you were breaking her heart.

Your shoulders shook as your own tears began to overtake you. You sniffled and began to speak, feeling the need to explain and to fill this aching silence.

"It's not that I don't love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. You're everything I could ever want," your voice rose in pitch as your vocal cords strained. "But I just feel like every day - at one point or another - my heart is getting broken over and over again. I thought I'd be able to fix things. To just get over things. But I haven't. And I'm just starting to feel numb. I-I just don't know what to do anymore."

Jessie's breathing hitched as she began to muster a response, but you forged on feeling like if you didn't say everything you needed to now, you'd just fall back into her arms and that's where you'd stay.

"You have a new life. A new family-" You saw her ready to interject and you cut her off "-it's true, Jess. I know I'm your family, too. But so is Zoie. And Sara. I know you try to dismiss your connection with her, but you are tied to her forever. And I know you don't want to give her precedence over me, but reality is, she's the mother of your child and always will be. You need to put Zoie first, and by proxy, at times Sara - and I can't fault you for that. Your duty and your dedication to your loved ones is one of the many things about you I fell in love with," you forced a laugh as tears fell. You looked at her sadly.

"You gained a family. And I feel like I lost one. It's no one's fault. Maybe that's what makes it so hard." You took a shaky breath. "I think I would've handled this better if I'd come in knowing you had this. But for it to come up the way it has...it's turned everything upside down for me and I just don't know how to right it. I wish I did," you said remorsefully as you dropped her gaze and blinked through more tears. Your hands shook as you wrung them before looking up at her.

"I just don’t feel like I fit anymore. I’ve been trying. I want nothing more than a future with you, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Jessie had been crying quietly as she listened to you speak. Her face was red, her cheeks tear-stained as her chest hitched now and then with unsteady breaths.

Surprise flooded your system and she knelt in front of you. Here she was, on bended knee, taking your hands in hers, sorrow in her eyes and such a contrast from when she knelt before you in much the same way many months before, except that time with unhindered hope and love as she asked you to be hers forever.

“Please don’t do this. I know it’s hard right now. But we can find a way. It’ll get better. And easier. I promise," Jessie beseeched as she looked up at you from her position on the floor.

You didn't know what to say. There wasn't really anything to say. So you just smiled apologetically, hoping she could see how much this was breaking your heart as well.

Jessie searched your eyes and you saw her expression fall furthermore as she cried anew. She clutched your hands as quiet sobs began to take her.

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I never wanted this to happen," she said through her cries. It tore you apart seeing her like this, but in some bizarre way it actually affirmed your decision. You squeezed her hands, caressing the back of them tenderly with your thumbs.

“I know, baby. But I guess this is just how life is. Things can be unexpected. And they don’t always go the way you planned. And this is exactly why this won’t work. You shouldn’t have to feel sorry. You shouldn’t have to apologize. You have a gorgeous, sweet little girl. And there’s nothing wrong with that. At all. She deserves all of you and you shouldn't have to choose. And I know I'm the one who's been forcing you to."

You paused, trying to gather your composure, but your voice was still taut as you spoke.

"I'm sorry I'm so selfish. But I also know I'd never forgive myself if Zoie got even the slightest sense that any of this...strife, or difficulty, was because of her. She doesn't deserve that and it's certainly not her fault."

Jessie looked ready to protest. You forged on.

"I truly wish the best for you and for Zoie. And even Sara," you added with a watery laugh before you sniffled. "I know it hasn't been easy navigating things, Jess. I know how hard you tried. And it meant so much that you tried." You let out a brief sob. "Thank you for loving me." Jessie's face collapsed in tears as you said that and she reached up to cup your cheek. You couldn't resist leaning into her touch, but you had to finish what you had to say.

"I stopped wishing that I had gotten to you first. Then you'd be mine, and we could have our old life, or God, that it would be our child we're raising. But even that didn't feel good, because then Zoie wouldn't exist. And that's not right. She's added so much light and love to your life, to your family's - and despite the complications, mine too. I just can't embrace everything the way you have. I can't let go of what I wanted."

You took a shaky breath.

"To be honest - I just don't like who I am right now. How I've been feeling. What I'm bringing to our relationship. So," your features screwed up as you tried to put on a brave face, "it's time for me to go."

Jessie shook her head with a pained expression.

"No, you don't have to. Babe, please," she pleaded as more tears fell, "we can figure this out. I know you feel like you don't fit anymore, but you really do. What can I do to help you see that?" You let her question hang and she stared at you expectantly. She tried to smile, but it flickered with the heartache she was feeling. "We belong together. We love each other."

She said it with such finality it almost convinced you that it was enough.

You looked at her with the first real smile in what felt like so long. You were crying through it, but it was real.

"You deserve so much happiness," you said.

Jessie searched your eyes as she absorbed your words. A sob escaped her and she looked down. A moment passed and she leant her head down and kissed your hand, her lips lingering on your skin for several seconds before she pulled back.

She swallowed visibly as she brought her other hand to yours now as well, clasping yours in both of hers. Her eyes were still trained down as she nodded once. A beat passed and she looked up at you, brown eyes glistening and mournful, but somehow still full of love. She nodded once more as she gave you as brave a smile as she could, no matter how heartbroken she was.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, too," she whispered, voice breaking.

She rose up higher onto her knees and you both met in a soft, tight embrace. Cries wracked your body and hers as you clung onto one another. You inhaled her scent, eyes closing as you willed yourself to remember it; to remember the feel of her hair, the sound and feel of her breath, the feel of her body against yours - you engrained it all.

---------

Sometimes, when a relationship ends, you don't know how the other person will be. Someone who you felt you knew so well can become a stranger overnight. But, that wasn't the case with Jessie.

She was gracious and loving despite the breakup. So much so that sometimes you had to remind her - as painful as it was - that you didn't belong to each other anymore.

"Hey, I'll be home late night. Midfielders are doing some extra technical work this afternoon. I'll text you when I'm done though. I could bring you home dinner or something though?" She'd asked hopefully one time as you both readied for the day.

"That's sweet of you to offer, but it's okay. And it's considerate, but you don't need to keep me apprised of your day. You don't owe me that," you gently reminded her. She gave you a tight, pained smile as she nodded her acceptance.

"Right," she said with a weak laugh. "Well. I guess I'll see you later, then. Um. Have a good day."

The few weeks until you could take possession of a new apartment had been awkward and delicate. You offered to move in with a friend in the interim, but Jessie had convinced you not to. Well, she wasn't wrong that living out of a suitcase for that long would be unnecessarily annoying, and there was certainly no point in moving all of your things twice. So, you'd stayed, with Jessie insisting on relegating herself to an air mattress in the living room. You'd argued with her, but she'd dug her heels in.

The days went by slowly, and at the same time, your move in date grew steadily closer and the pit in your stomach grew just the same. You'd had cold feet several times, but knew it was just some misguided part of you looking for the easy path and short-term pay-off.

It was hard to not have doubts when - despite everything - you and Jessie still got along so well. While it was undeniably hard to be in the same room as her and not be with her, it was still easy in a way. When you allowed yourself, you could chat about your days, even laugh.

What caused the most confusion was probably the fact that you didn't know how to be Jessie's friend. Even when you and her had been just friends at the beginning - a lifetime ago now - there was always something underlying. You had chemistry from the get-go and it was near impossible to deny.

And now, after everything, how could you possibly pretend to just be friends. How could you pretend you weren't in love with her? How could you pretend that this woman sitting a couple feet from you on the couch didn't preoccupy your every thought and could make or break you with her words.

Hell, that not only did she own your heart and mind, but your body, too. That as you laid there lonely in this bed you used to share, that your hand strayed as memories flooded your senses. Of all those nights, mornings, stolen moments, where she made love to you so passionately and desperately. The feeling so intimate and tender, like you were the only person on this earth with her and you the only one who could give her what she needed while she was the only one who could make you whole.

And with the way she looked at you - sometimes unabashed, sometimes fleeting - how could you pretend that she didn't feel the same way?

During moments of weakness, it seemed a silly thing to fight. In a world as dark and lonely as this one could be, why would you leave someone you loved and who loved you back?

But when Jessie spent nights coordinating things with Sara and then went out with her and Zoie on others, you remembered.

The day came when you took possession of your new apartment. You'd initially resisted her offer to help you move, but your resolve weakened and failed.

She'd worn a bright smile all day as she cheerfully tackled every task. You knew her well though; she was trying far too hard.

She helped you arrange furniture, move boxes around, check all the fixtures in the new place, the list went on. Even after you'd dismissed your friends, she'd insisted on sticking around and began helping you unpack.

Her eager assistance carried on into the night. Each time she finished one task, she readily started on another and good-naturedly dismissed your offers to let her stop.

As she chatted fast and constant throughout the night, hitting any and every topic she could, you saw this woman before you - the woman you well and truly loved - making every excuse to not leave. And truthfully, you were happy to delay the inevitable goodbye.

So for now, you both knew what she was doing, but neither of you vocalized it.

You eventually checked your phone. 12:30 am.

"Okay, so I was thinking of unpacking your books over here for now. I saw this really nice bookcase online the other day - I can get it for you over the weekend if you like. I think it could go really well over here. And-"

"Jess."

Her movements stilled and the room grew silent and heavy. She slowly turned to face you and you could see her thinly veiled trepidation.

You offered her a regretful smile as you fought back emotions and grief that began to bubble up inside of you.

"You should go...," you said gently.

She held your gaze for several moments, seemingly teetering on the edge of whether to protest or not. She nodded sadly and forced a smile that faltered as her eyes began to fill with tears.

She forced a laugh as she closed the space between you.

"It's a nice place. Could use some colour, but I know you'll take care of that," she said as she scratched nervously at the back of her neck and gave another weak laugh.

"Thanks for all of your help. Truly," you said.

Her eyes brimmed with tears and her mouth quivered faintly. "Anytime," she said, voice thick with emotion.

She stared at you a moment longer before exhaling, puffing out her cheeks before trying to choke back tears. "I know we're not together. But," she paused, debating her words, "I really do love you. I know you can't make any promises, but, if you're open to it I want you in my life." A quiet sob veiled as a laugh escaped her. "I don't know what my life looks like without you."

"I love you, too, Jessie," you said. You couldn't lie about that.

She embraced you and you held each other tightly in a lingering, tearful hug. Neither of you wanted to be the first to let go.

You eventually conceded and gingerly, regretfully, extracted yourself from her arms. Her fingers lingered as long as she could let them before you stepped back.

You gave her a watery smile.

"Take care of yourself, Jessie."

The statement seemed to wound her, but she covered it up with a tight smile.

"You too."

As you stood before her, a brief recollection came to you of a time long past; your first date. Even then, you knew with absolutely certainty you were going to see her again. As soon as possible if you could help it.

For the first time since the beginning, you didn't know if or when you'd see her again.

You gave her another quick hug, yet again committing her and everything about her to memory.

"I'll see you," you said softly as you hugged her. "And we'll talk soon. Good night, Jess."

Her cheek brushed against yours as she slowly pulled back. Her eyes shone with fresh tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, offering you a renewed smile instead.

"Good night, Y/N."

----

A/N: I did say that things would get a lot rougher before they got better. Let me know your thoughts.

Tag requests: @marvelwomen-simp @valuyhh