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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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right people, wrong place — nanami kento.

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?” The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, angst, marriage separation, salvaging the marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, car-fuck, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, hurt/comfort, alcohol, crying, drunk, emotional, pining, happy ending, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of breakdown of a marriage, depiction of alcoholic beverages, depiction of getting drunk, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, sorcerer! nanami, non-sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words.

NOTE: finally!!! im putting out this chapter on my birthday which is crazy but i feel like putting it out on my birthday shows how much i really love nanami. i really wondered a lot how to do this because i don't think nanami's the sort of person who would end up hurting his lover/partner like this. but hm, i suppose it works out in the end!!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this a lot like i did!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

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IN YOUR YEARS LIVING, YOU’D NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. You never thought you would find yourself in this position, but sometimes marriages just don't last. It’s been a while since your husband, Nanami Kento, and you became estranged. His constant absence, wrapped up in his work as a sorcerer, eventually took precedence over your marriage.

At first, you understood, even tried to be patient. But over time, the long hours, missed moments, and growing distance became too much to bear. You found yourself frustrated, feeling as though you were competing with a world you couldn’t fully understand or be a part of.

Slowly, that frustration turned into resentment. Despite your efforts to keep things together, the silence between you grew louder. Eventually, the separation felt inevitable. Now, standing on the other side of it, you reflect on the painful truth: sometimes love isn't enough when life pulls you in different directions.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Kento used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world.

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Kento's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

Your minds rushed to those memories again. That night when he left the house. You looked as he packed everything he could carry. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“Is this really it, then?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent.

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all you can say? After so many years?.....Kento....this is…” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Not even a reason?”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “If I say something, it would be a fight and then that fight would hurt you and I again. Do you really want that?”

“No, I don’t.” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “But maybe it should. Because then I would know if it actually mattered. Because it didn’t feel like it mattered, Kento. It felt like I was always second place to your work, to the missions, to everything else.”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I never wanted it to be like this. But you knew what I was from the beginning. Being a sorcerer… it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.

“I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to your own ears. “So that’s it? We were just collateral damage to your sense of duty?”

Kento didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the suitcase with a soft click, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest. “I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, waiting for something more—an apology, a plea, anything. But all you got was that same calm, distant resolve that had driven you apart in the first place.

He picked up the suitcase, his fingers tightening around the handle. “Goodbye.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and the emptiness of the apartment swallowed you whole. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. It was over.

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

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EVERYTHING THAT CAME AFTER WAS HARD. In the days that followed, the silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

Kento was gone, too. But in a way, that absence, painful as it was, felt like a step toward something else. Healing, maybe. And it didn’t help, how empty the rooms were. Half of his belongings were gone and packed up when you weren’t in the apartment.

It was slow at first. You’d wake up some mornings expecting him to be there, just a shadow of his presence lingering in the air. You’d make coffee for two out of habit, only to pour the second cup down the sink. Little reminders of him still clung to the edges of your life, and each one was like a small tug at the thread of your resolve.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life. You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still, that the ache of missing him crept back in. It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever would come back and say that he regrets walking away.

Because the truth was, you still loved him. Deeply. And that was the hardest part. No matter how much you tried to move forward, to heal, the love you had for Nanami Kento never fully disappeared. It lingered, bittersweet and aching, tucked into the corners of your heart.

Some nights, you found yourself replaying those last moments with him—the way he stood in the doorway, his back turned to you, the finality of his goodbye. You couldn’t help but wonder if things could have been different. If you had fought harder, if he had tried just a little more. But those thoughts always led to the same conclusion: no matter how much you loved him, love wasn’t enough to fix what had broken between you.

And yet, despite everything, there was still a part of you that wanted him back. It was foolish, you knew that. But the heart rarely listens to reason. You missed the way he made you feel safe, even when everything else in your world felt uncertain. You missed the way he’d brush his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while reading or the quiet moments where words weren’t needed because you both just… understood.

But loving him came with a cost, one you couldn’t ignore. You knew that being with him meant sharing him with a world that constantly demanded more of him than you could ever give. It meant always being second place, always waiting for him to come home, always wondering if this time would be the last.

You weren’t sure if you could live like that again.

It was hard, knowing that despite how much better you were feeling, the part of you that still longed for him wasn’t ready to let go. You tried to distract yourself—work, hobbies, anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of him—a certain tie in a shop window, a scent in the air—and the pang of longing would hit you all over again.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourself standing at the edge of your balcony, staring out at the sunset. The sky was painted in hues of gold and pink, the world so quiet and still that it almost felt like a dream. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he were here beside you. If, somehow, you could make it work. If the love you had was enough to outweigh everything else.

But as the colors faded and dusk settled in, you realized something—wanting him, loving him, would always be part of you. But so would the pain. And maybe, just maybe, the best thing you could do was let both of those things exist without trying to fix them. To let the love you still had for him be a memory, something you carried with you but didn’t let define you anymore.

It was hard. But you were learning that sometimes, healing isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s about accepting it and finding a way to move forward anyway. Even if part of you will always wish things had been different.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Nanami used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world.

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Nanami's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

The doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. For a moment, your heart raced—an absurd part of you hoped it was him. But you quickly brushed the thought aside. That chapter was closed. Or so you tried to convince yourself.

When you opened the door, there he stood—Nanami Kento.

“I came to pick up the rest of my things.” he said, his voice low and steady, as if the weight of the words didn't matter. But they did. Every syllable felt like a punch to your chest.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in, though the sight of him in the apartment again felt like a knife twisting in an old wound. He walked past you without another word, heading to what used to be your shared bedroom. It was strange—after all the time that had passed, he still moved like he belonged here, like nothing had changed. But everything had.

You followed him, your footsteps quiet as you watched him start gathering his things. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“This is it, huh?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent. “Is….is this what’s left?”

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything, everything.” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “I just want to know if any of it ever mattered to you.”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “You know it did. You matter to me. More than you know.”

“Did I?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Because why have I never felt it? When will I feel it?”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I showed you everything I could. I gave you everything I could. Was that never going to be enough for you?”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.Nanami didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the box with a soft touch, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest.

“I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

He picked up the rest of his belongings, his fingers tightening around the handle. “I have to go.”

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

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YOU DIDN’T EAT MUCH IN THE PAST FEW DAYS. But that was to be expected. You couldn’t eat in the place where you had so many memories. Yet you were feeling unwell as time went on and so slowly, gently, patiently — you tried to be good to yourself. Tried to be understanding. Going through separation, this suffering, it was never going to be easy.

The silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

The emptiness felt different now. It wasn't just about loss or absence; it was about space—space to breathe, to think, to feel without the constant dread lurking in every corner. Still, the quiet held an echo of everything you had left behind, and that made moving forward all the more difficult.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life.

You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still and you’re watching television alone by yourself — you could feel that the ache of missing him crept back in.

It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever regretted walking away. Or if he missed you just as much as you did.

But you had to move on. Life wasn’t going to wait for you to get better, to be better. It demanded that you keep going, even when you weren’t sure how to, even when the ghost of what you had still weighed heavy on your soul.

So, you kept going, step by step. Some days were easier than others, filled with the distractions of work, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, and conversations that pulled you out of your own head. Other days were harder—when memories of him resurfaced without warning, when a familiar scent or an old song hit you with the force of a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in nostalgia.

But you had learned by now how to weather those moments. You’d remind yourself that healing wasn’t linear, that some days you would falter, and that was okay. You had to let yourself feel the sadness, the longing, without letting it consume you.

And in time, you began to see the future more clearly, not just as a continuation of what you lost but as something entirely new. You began to make plans for yourself, not the version of you that existed with him but the person you were becoming on your own. You started to imagine new possibilities—new experiences, new places, and maybe even, eventually, new love.

But for now, it was enough to simply live. To wake up each morning with the quiet acceptance that the pain would fade, slowly, until it was just another part of you, like a scar that healed over time. And though Nanami Kento would always hold a piece of your heart, you knew that piece was no longer all you had. There was more to you, more to your life, and you would find it, one day at a time.

And maybe, tonight was just one of those nights you didn’t plan. Tonight was one more night where you tried to forget. It was just a spontaneous meeting with the friends you made because of your estranged husband.

In a way, you think that Shoko and Utahime, were the only people who had really been there for you throughout this entire mess. You met up at a quiet bar tucked away in a corner of the city, a place that felt far removed from the chaos of sorcery and everything that came with it.

Shoko sat across from you, her usual laid-back demeanor a source of steady comfort, while Utahime leaned in, her voice soft and warm, coaxing you into laughter with her lighthearted banter. The night had started out innocent enough—a few drinks, some stories, and shared frustrations. But as the alcohol flowed, so did your emotions.

“Honestly.” you groaned, swirling your drink before downing it, “I don’t even know what I miss more—him, or the idea of what we could’ve been if his work didn’t always come first.”

Shoko raised her glass, giving you a sympathetic smile. “It’s never easy, is it? Being with someone like him. The duty comes first. Always.”

Utahime nodded, her eyes full of understanding. “But that doesn’t make what you feel any less valid. You loved him. That doesn’t just disappear.”

The alcohol in your system made you bolder, more honest than you’d been in a while. You leaned forward, placing your elbows on the table, and slurred slightly, “It’s not fair, you know? I tried, I really did. But how long am I supposed to wait? How many nights am I supposed to spend alone, wondering if he’s even coming back?”

Shoko reached across the table and squeezed your hand gently. “You’re not supposed to wait forever. You deserve more than that.”

But instead of finding solace in her words, you found yourself feeling more emotional, the weight of everything you’d been holding back finally cracking open under the influence of too much alcohol. A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could stop it, you were sobbing into your hands, overwhelmed by a mix of heartache and frustration.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Utahime said softly, sliding into the seat beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re doing great. This is just… part of the process.”

Shoko, usually so calm and collected, looked a little more concerned than usual. “Okay, I think it’s time to slow down on the drinks, girlie.” she said, gently pulling your glass away from you.

But you were too far gone to care. The mix of pain, regret, and alcohol had you in a place where you didn’t want to think anymore—you just wanted to feel something, anything other than the ache of missing him.

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob and raised your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m a mess! A total mess! And you know what? I miss him. I still miss him even after everything!”

Utahime tried to keep you grounded, but your emotions were all over the place. “We know. We get it. Just breathe.”

Shoko sighed, reaching for her phone. “I think we might need backup here.”

You were too busy giggling uncontrollably to notice her dialing a number, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, making you feel invincible, heartbroken, and foolish all at once.

“I’m calling Nanami.” Shoko said, her voice firm as she stepped away to speak quietly into the phone.

The name hit you like a punch in the chest, and suddenly, the laughter was gone, replaced by a pit of regret. “Wait… Shoko, no. Don’t… don’t call him.” you mumbled, slumping against the table.

But it was too late.

Half an hour later, as the bar started to empty out and the world around you became a blurry haze, you felt a familiar presence. Nanami Kento stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable, though his posture was tense, like he wasn’t sure what to expect. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on you—wild-eyed and completely drunk, your face flushed from crying and too many drinks.

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance as Nanami walked over to the table. “She… might’ve had a bit too much tonight, you know?” Utahime said sheepishly, standing up to give him space.

Nanami didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you—really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in months. You could see the subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, even if his face remained calm, composed.

You, on the other hand, were a mess. “Kento….” you slurred, your voice thick with emotion. “Why did you come?”

He crouched down beside you, his voice low but steady. “Shoko called me.”

You frowned, trying to process that. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid. You wanted to say so many things—to tell him how much you missed him, how much it hurt to love him, but your thoughts were too muddled, and the alcohol made everything feel distant and surreal.

Nanami sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Let’s get you home.”

Too tired and drunk to argue, you leaned into his touch, letting him guide you out of the bar. As he helped you into the passenger seat of his car, you felt a pang of sadness wash over you. Even in this state, the warmth of his presence made you remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

But as the car started and the city lights blurred by, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you’d ever be to him now—a fleeting responsibility, a problem to fix.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you glanced over at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you still care, Kento?”

For the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course I care.” he said quietly, almost like it hurt to admit it. “I always have….I always will.”

But as the darkness of the night pulled you under, you couldn’t help but think that maybe caring just wasn’t enough.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the distant noise of the city filling the silence between you and Nanami. You leaned your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your flushed skin, the alcohol still buzzing faintly in your veins. Everything felt muted, distant, as if you were floating just outside yourself, watching the scene unfold from afar.

Nanami’s presence was steady, calm as always, but there was something different about it tonight—something almost tender in the way he glanced over at you every few moments, checking to see if you were okay. He was a man of few words, but the weight of everything left unsaid between you felt heavy in the small space of the car.

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Your thoughts drifted in and out, a hazy mix of memories and half-formed feelings. The pain of your separation, the love you still held for him, the impossible wish that things could’ve been different.

“Do you need anything?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something restrained.

You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts through the alcohol fog, but the room spun, and you could feel the tears welling up again, unbidden and unwelcome. The frustration, the love, the hurt—all of it crashed over you at once, too heavy to hold in any longer.

“I miss you, Kento.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I just…..I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

He didn’t respond right away, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. Afraid of the truth you already knew—that no matter how much you wanted him, how much you loved him, some things were just too broken to fix. Your face contorted in distress as you felt like you were going to hurl.

Kento stopped the car on a quiet side of the road and took a breath. He moved towards your side of the vehicle. He opened the door and brushed his hands on your back as though to soothe you. But nothing came out of you. Instead, you were just hiccupping. Tears were falling down your face by this point, as your eyes met his.

Nanami Kento sighed softly, kneeling down in front of you. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the back of his hand, his touch gentle, hesitant. “You shouldn’t have to feel like this about me, about everything.” he murmured, his voice low, filled with regret. “You shouldn’t let this hurt you. Not anymore—”

“But you did.” you cut him off, your voice cracking. “Every time you left, every time you put your work first… it felt like I didn’t matter.”

He bowed his head, the weight of your words sinking into him. “I know.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of the couch beneath you. “I loved you, Kento. I still love you. But I don’t know if I can keep doing this… if I can keep feeling like I’m waiting for something that will never come.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for the first time in a long while, you saw something break in his calm façade. “I never wanted you to wait. But I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know….I didn’t know how to stop saving people.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty, made your heart ache even more. You could see it now—his struggle, his conflict between the duty he felt as a sorcerer and the love he had for you. But that didn’t change the fact that you had spent so long feeling alone, abandoned in a relationship that demanded more from you than you could give.

“Why did you come tonight?” you asked, your voice shaky, desperate for answers. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

Nanami was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I couldn’t. No matter how much I tell myself it’s better for you if I stay away… I can’t stop caring about you. Nor could I just….Nor could I just leave you like that. You don’t need to be alone, not like this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was the truth you had always known, deep down—that he loved you, that he cared. But caring wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between the life he led and the one you needed. And that was the most painful part.

“I don’t know how to stop loving you.” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now, unrestrained. “But I also don’t know how to keep living like this. I don’t want to keep living like this.”

Nanami looked at you then, his expression conflicted, torn between his duty and the love he had for you. “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could be what you need.”

His honesty only made the hurt deeper, and you choked back a sob, turning your face away from him. “I wish that too, Kento. But wishing doesn’t make it real.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the silence heavy and suffocating. Nanami stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

“If you ever need me.” he said quietly, his back to you, “I’ll be there. Always. No matter what. I…I’m telling you the truth.”

His voice was low, a smooth, steady rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The way his fingers touched your skin, soft yet firm, made your breath catch in your throat. You hated how even now, after everything, he still had this effect on you. Your body, your heart—they responded to him instinctively, as if drawn to him by some invisible force you couldn’t control.

Your eyes met his, those deep, unwavering eyes that had always been so hard to read. Dark, focused, filled with an intensity that both excited and terrified you. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for your answer, his thumb brushing lightly against your lower lip. The heat between you was palpable, electric, pulling you closer despite the distance you had tried so hard to create between your lives.

But it wasn’t just lust. It was the ache of wanting something you knew you could never fully have.

“I—” You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you fought to find the words. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

It was the truth. You were caught between desire and heartbreak, between the pull of your body and the ache in your chest.

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly, though his hand remained firm against your chin. “You can always tell me. Even if you don’t know, I’m here to listen.”

His lips were inches from yours now, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your breath hitched, and you felt the throbbing in your core intensify, the need rising within you. But it wasn’t just physical—it was the need to feel close to him again, to bridge the distance between you, if only for a moment.

His thumb grazed your lip again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Tell me what you need.” he whispered, his voice like silk, coaxing you to let go of everything you were holding back.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, your resolve slipping away. You wanted him—needed him—but the weight of everything between you still clung to the edges of your mind.

“I want…” you began, your voice trembling as you opened your eyes to meet him once more. “I want you. But I don't want you.”

There it was. The painful truth, laid bare between you.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe understanding. He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I know.” he said softly. “And I��m sorry.”

But even as he apologized, his hand slid down from your chin to the curve of your neck, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent waves of heat coursing through your body. You inhaled sharply, your resolve crumbling further with every second that passed.

He always knew how to touch you, how to make you forget the pain, the doubts, the distance. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull you in without even trying, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but lean into it. Into him.

His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but he didn’t close the gap. He never did—he always waited for you to make the choice, to cross that line. He gave you control, even when it felt like you had none.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a breath as his hand settled at the base of your neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

You could feel the tension coiling in your body, the way your heart raced, the way every nerve seemed to be on fire. You wanted to push him away, to tell him that this wasn’t right, that you couldn’t keep doing this. But the pull of him was too strong, and your body betrayed you.

“I want…...” The words caught in your throat, your breath shaky, your lips barely an inch from his. “I want you to make me forget.”

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the pain, not the past, not the uncertainty of what the future held. All that mattered was the feel of his hand on your skin, the way his eyes never left yours, the way his presence grounded you and made you feel alive all at once.

Nanami’s lips finally brushed against yours, a soft, tentative kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your body. You responded instinctively, pressing into him, the taste of him familiar and yet still enough to set your senses ablaze.

His other hand slid down your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. You moaned softly into his mouth, your body melting against him, your mind blissfully empty of everything except him.

For just this moment, you let yourself forget. Forget the hurt, the separation, the longing that had been eating at you for months. Right now, all that existed was the heat between you, the way his hands moved over your body, the way his lips claimed yours with a tenderness that both healed and hurt.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fall into the moment, into him, knowing that tomorrow would bring all the same questions and heartache. But for tonight, you let yourself be with him, no matter how fleeting it might be.

The kiss lingered, both tender and desperate, a blend of longing and unresolved emotions that seemed to pulse between you. Nanami’s hands roamed your body with a careful intensity, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every shiver that ran through you. His touch was both familiar and achingly new, a reminder of what you once had and what you had been missing.

You clung to him, your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer as if you could erase the months of separation with just this physical connection. Every touch, every caress felt like a balm to the wound that had been left open for so long.

But even as the moment enveloped you, reality kept its sharp edge. Every kiss, every touch was a reminder of the distance that had come between you, the reasons you’d tried so hard to move on. The passion that ignited between you was a bitter-sweet symphony, playing a melody of both desire and regret.

Nanami broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of yearning and sadness, the weight of everything unsaid pressing heavily between you.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “For everything.”

You could only nod, your throat tight, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “I know.” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “I know.”

He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had silently fallen. “You mean everything to me, you know?” he said softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I know I can’t just come back and expect everything to be okay.”

You nodded again, tears blurring your vision as you tried to process the complexity of the moment. The feelings between you were still raw, unhealed, and the reality of your situation pressed down hard on both of you. You wanted to hold onto him, to keep him close, but the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future loomed large.

Kento's massivehands slowly slid from your face to your shoulders, his touch grounding and reassuring. “We can’t go back to how we were.” he said softly, a note of resignation in his voice. “I can’t promise you that everything will be perfect.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “I don’t expect perfection,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I just want to know that you still care, that there’s still something left between us.”

He looked at you with a deep sadness in his eyes, as if he were trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. “I care,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know. But we both need to heal, to figure out what’s next. I can’t keep coming and going, leaving you with more pain.”

You swallowed hard, trying to reconcile his words with the longing you still felt. “What happens now?” you asked softly, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air.

Nanami sighed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I don’t know.” he admitted.

“Me neither.” You whisper to him as your eyes echoed to him and narrowed. “But I want you to love me. Tonight. Right now.”

“But—”

You kissed him, hungry and passionate. You pull at his jaw, wanting him closer than ever before. You want him near. You want him enveloping you. As though an embrace that would lock you away in his warmth for the rest of your lives. It was as though the fire of young love reawakened after a long hibernation. And you want more than anything this spring, this warmth of spring. His love.

Kento hesitates for a moment, his gaze heavy with concern and desire, before he finally whispers, "Are you sure?"

You nod, breathless, your hands trembling as you reach for him. "I'm sure, Kento. I want you… I've always wanted you."

His resolve falters, and he leans forward, capturing your lips again with a fervor that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. His hands slide over your back, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of his body pressing against you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips, coaxing you open to taste him, to feel him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting, your breaths mingling in the confined space of the car. There's a moment where neither of you speaks, just staring at each other, the weight of your shared desire hanging in the air.

Kento's hand moves between your legs, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and you shiver at the contact. He’s gentle at first, almost hesitant, but when he sees the way your body responds, a low growl escapes his throat. He’s lost in the moment, his mouth descending to taste you, his tongue working deftly to unravel every ounce of pleasure he can from you.

You gasp, your back arching against the seat as his tongue dances over your most sensitive parts, his spit mixing with your own arousal. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you like a man starved, each stroke and flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

When you finally break, a cry tearing from your throat, he doesn’t hesitate. He lifts you easily, pulling you onto his lap, his lips finding yours again in a messy, desperate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, the tang of your desire mingling with his own.

He fumbles with his pants, freeing himself from the constraints, and you feel the heat of him, hard and ready, pressing against you. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, there’s a silent understanding — a shared want that transcends words.

With a quiet groan, he grips your hips, guiding you over him, his breath catching as he finally pushes inside. You both gasp, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you completely, your bodies moving in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. He clings to you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, and you cling back just as fiercely, not wanting this moment to end.

“I won't stop anymore." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear, and you know he means it — neither of you want to stop.

Kento’s words hang heavy in the air, igniting something primal within you. You shift your hips, pressing down harder, taking him deeper, and a guttural sound escapes his lips, his hands digging into your waist as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

He starts moving, thrusting up into you with a roughness that takes your breath away. You hold onto his shoulders for balance, your nails digging into his skin, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

You couldn't help but groan over and over with every sensual movement, the windows fogging up as the air grows thick with your mingled breaths and moans.

Kento’s mouth is everywhere — on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. His lips are hot, leaving trails of fire across your skin. He sucks and nips, marking you as his.

And it makes you gasp, makes you arch closer, needing more, craving everything he can give you. Your body moves on instinct, rolling your hips against him, each motion driving him deeper until you feel like you can’t take it anymore.

“More, more….Oh—” you whisper, a plea escaping your lips. He groans in response, tightening his grip on you, his hips slamming into yours with a desperate rhythm.

He shifts, one hand sliding down between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub. He circles it, presses down, and you cry out, your body clenching around him as the sensations intensify, as every nerve feels like it's on fire.

The sound of skin against skin fills the car, mingling with the soft creak of leather and the panting breaths escaping both of you.

Kento’s pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent. “God, you feel so good.” he murmurs, his voice ragged, almost broken.

He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe reassurance, maybe something deeper.

"Tell me you want this." he breathes, his thumb circling faster.

“I want it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I want you, Kento… don't stop, please…”

That seems to be all he needs. He growls low in his throat, his grip tightening as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, each movement harder, deeper, pushing you both to the edge of oblivion. Your hands clutch his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the coil tightening in your belly, threatening to snap.

He shifts again, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, and you scream, the sound raw and needy, your body trembling. You can feel the heat pooling, feel the tension building to an unbearable point.

He leans back slightly, watching you with hooded eyes, and the sight of him — pupils blown wide, lips parted, sweat slicking his skin — sends a new wave of desire crashing through you.

“Come for me, baby.” he commands, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Let me feel you.”

The words push you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you shatter, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Kento groans, feeling you clench around him, and he thrusts a few more times before he’s there too, his own release surging through him with a low, guttural sound.

You collapse against him, both of you panting, bodies trembling and slick with sweat. For a moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the aftershocks of what you’ve just shared. He strokes your back gently, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding against yours.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "More than okay, baby." you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, tasting the salt of your shared exertion on his lips. "I don't want this to end.”

“I missed you.” He whispered lowly as he pressed a kiss on your palm. “More than you ever could know.”

You smiled at him. “Me too, my love.”

“I want to come home….and make things right.” Your husband tells you, his eyes tortured by desperation. “I want to make it up to you.”

“I know.” You nodded at him, leaning forward and kissing his chin. “Just come home. We’ll figure it out….like we always do.”

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pigfacedbitch · 1 year ago

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Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson headcanons #heroes of olympus headcanons #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo imagine #pjo imagine #jason grace #jason grace x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #riordanverse

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upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months ago

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance.

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy.

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless.

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one.

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death.

But it was closure.

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted.

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room.

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video.

It felt fresh. New. Clean.

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months.

At first, he dreamt of death.

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance.

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red.

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes.

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before.

It didn’t even really look like a gate.

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods.

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean.

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms.

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth.

Pomegranates.

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home.

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them.

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of.

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there.

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up.

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too.

He knew her. He knew her.

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before.

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you.

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it.

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap.

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came.

You were always alone.

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work.

Not yet, anyway.

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back.

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm.

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet.

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night.

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really.

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes.

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security.

Safety - an unknown feeling.

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place.

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too.

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it.

Then one night, he saw himself.

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked.

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up.

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm.

Safe.

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be.

Certainly not 1988.

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before.

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting.

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello.

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy.

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper.

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia.

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get.

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before.

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you.

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one.

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep.

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington.

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee.

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate.

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit.

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington au

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virgoilluminati · 4 months ago

Note

Jude and Y/N going to a wedding - maybe Jude is her plus one and they're all over them because he's famous and he's just so in love with Y/N that he doesn't notice 🤭❣️

Numero uno

Inspo: Set in the World Class series, y/n's older brother Rowan decides to finally tie the knot with his girlfriend Rosemary. In turn, Y/N invites Jude as her plus one. Little did she know that inviting her boyfriend who almost won the euro's would cause such a stir.

You hated weddings. You hated the formality, the expectations, the grand declarations of love. How could anyone promise to love someone forever when life was so unpredictable, so fragile? People fell out of love, people changed, and worst of all, people died. You had seen it firsthand and the pain it caused.

The memory of Noah, your eldest brother, loomed large in your mind. He had been the glue that held their family together, his laughter and warmth filling every room he entered. But in 2020, a tragic accident had taken him from them, leaving a gaping hole that time could never fully heal. Rowan had been especially close to Noah, and you knew that today, more than ever, he would be feeling that absence acutely.

Yet, this wedding was different. Your older brother Rowan, who had been with his girlfriend Rosemary for as long as you could remember, had finally proposed. Rowan and Rosemary’s relationship had weathered many storms, and their love had only grown stronger. It was a day of joy and celebration, something you couldn’t deny them, despite your own reservations.

You stood in front of the mirror in your hotel room, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to zip up your dress. The gown was a stunning mix of red and black satin, elegant and bold, but the zipper seemed to have a mind of its own. You struggled with it for a moment, your thoughts drifting back to all the times Noah had teased you about your dramatic views on love and marriage. He would have laughed at you today, seeing you all dressed up and ready to support Rowan.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from her reverie. “Y/N, are you okay in there?” Jude’s voice, warm and concerned, came through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you called back, though your voice wavered slightly. “Just having a bit of trouble with this zipper.”

Jude entered the room, his presence instantly calming you. He looked impeccable in his tailored suit, every bit the professional athlete who had just come off an incredible performance at the 2024 Men’s Euros. But here, in this moment, he was just Jude, the man who had captured your heart.

“Let me help,” he offered, moving behind you. His fingers brushed lightly against your bare back as he took hold of the zipper, sending a shiver down your spine. He slowly pulled the zipper upwards, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with admiration.

Your breath hitched, a blush creeping up your neck. “Thank you,” you replied softly.

As his fingers lingered on your back, you thought again of Noah. The thought of him brought a pang of sadness that you couldn’t shake.

“Y/N,” Jude’s voice pulled her back to the present. “You okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… thinking about Noah. He should be here.”

Jude’s eyes softened with understanding. “I know. He would have loved this.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But you’re here, and that’s what matters to Rowan."

You nodded, drawing strength from Jude’s presence. “You’re right. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes filled with love. “Always.”

You turned to face him fully, your hands resting on his chest. “You look pretty good yourself,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly.

Jude grinned, his eyes darkening with desire. “Well, I have to look my best if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You shared a brief, passionate kiss, the intensity of your love wrapping around you. When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you felt a thrill of excitement. Despite the sadness, despite your doubts, this day held a promise of happiness and love.

“We should get downstairs,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Jude stole one more quick kiss. “Yeah, we should,” he agreed, but his eyes told her he was in no rush. You steal one last kiss, before Jude gestures an arm for you to take and you slowly make their way down the stairs.

You and Jude arrived at the wedding reception, a beautifully decorated hall filled with flowers and twinkling lights. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses created a warm, celebratory atmosphere. You found a quiet corner near the entrance, waiting for the rest of your family to arrive.

You fidgeted with the strap of your bra, trying to adjust it discreetly. Jude noticed your discomfort and stepped in front of you, shielding you from view.

"Need some help?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

"Just trying to fix this strap," you whispered back, your fingers fumbling with the fabric.

Jude placed his hands gently on your shoulders, his body acting as a shield while you adjusted your strap. He kept glancing down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, noticing his intense gaze.

Jude's lips curled into a small smile. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just... you look really hot right now."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. "Thanks," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude's hand slid from your shoulder to your waist, pulling you closer. "Seriously, you’re making it very hard to focus on anything else," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His other hand rested briefly on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze before moving away as he heard footsteps approaching.

Your heart raced, the heat between you two intensifying. "Who says you have to?" You whispered back, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him even closer.

Jude's eyes darkened, his other hand drifting down to your hip, fingers lightly grazing the fabric of your dress. His lips found your neck, planting soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping your lips. His touch was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in your own world.

"You're driving me crazy," Jude whispered against your skin, his voice husky.

Your breath hitched as his hand trailed up your back, lingering at the nape of your neck. "Good," she managed to say, your voice shaking with desire.

Jude pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of lust and affection. "If we weren't at your brother's wedding..."

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know."

Your moment was intense, the world around you fading as you both focused solely on each other. Jude's thumb brushed against your jawline, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Before you could get further lost in each other, the sound of approaching footsteps and voices broke their intimate bubble. You reluctantly pulled apart, your connection still palpable, and turned to face the incoming relatives.

As you and Jude were still adjusting from your intimate moment, Aunt Karen approached with her warm smile, her eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. "Y/N, darling! It’s so good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. Then she turned to Jude, her eyes twinkling with familiarity. "And Jude, always a pleasure. How’s everything going?"

Jude smiled, his gaze locking onto yours, a silent message passing between you two. "Good to see you, Aunt Karen," he replied smoothly, but there was a heat in his eyes that made Your breath catch.

You gave a distracted smile, your attention drifting back to the way Jude’s tuxedo fit him perfectly, accentuating the strong lines of his body. Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of their earlier closeness still tingling on your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch lingering, and despite the ongoing conversation, all you could think about was how impossibly handsome he looked tonight.

Your Grandma appeared next, her eyes sharp yet affectionate as she took in the sight of you two. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple," she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, her gaze lingering on the space between you. "I must say, Jude, you’re looking dashing tonight."

Jude's smile widened, but his hand subtly brushed against You, sending a thrill up her spine. "Thank you. It’s great to see you," he responded, though his attention never fully left you.

Your gaze lingered on Jude, your thoughts clouded with admiration and something deeper, something that made your heart race. Your Grandma’s words barely registered as she continued, “And how was the Euro final? We were all glued to the TV, cheering for you!”

Your Uncle Michael joined the conversation, his face lit up with excitement. "We were screaming the house down! Me and the lads from the pub couldn’t believe it when you scored that winning goal. Everyone was talking about it!”

You shifted uncomfortably. The praise directed at Jude felt overwhelming, especially as your own achievements were being overshadowed. They each forgot the Women’s World Cup again, with the conversation seemingly revolved solely around Jude’s Euro final. You bit your lip, focusing on Jude’s sleek, tailored tux instead of voicing your frustration, but the intensity of your feelings were hard to ignore.

Another relative, Cousin Lisa, chimed in enthusiastically, “Honestly, Jude, you were phenomenal. The whole neighborhood was talking about it. I think they’re still raving about it!”

Jude’s eyes shifted to you, noticing your distant expression. He could sense your discomfort, the subtle tension between you growing as he decided to address it with a hint of humor. “Well, I don’t know. What do you think, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he glanced at you with a playful smirk.

Uncle Michael raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “What would she know? She’s not the one who made it to the final.”

Jude chuckled, his gaze never leaving you. “Actually, I think Y/N has a pretty good perspective. She didn’t just make it to the final—she won the whole Women’s World Cup,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and admiration.

The room fell silent for a moment, and you felt a surge of pride and attraction. The way Jude acknowledged your achievements made your heart race, adding to the growing warmth between you. You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his with a newfound intensity, the air between you tao crackling with unspoken desire.

"Well, congratulations to both of you," Aunt Karen said, her voice sincere. "You both have so much to be proud of."

You managed a smile, though your attention remained focused on Jude. His presence, the way he spoke up for you, and the genuine admiration in his eyes made your heart swell with affection, and something more—a hunger that you couldn’t quite quell.

As the relatives continued to chat and praise Jude, you found it difficult to pull your gaze away from him. His tuxedo, his confident demeanor, and his unwavering support for you in front of everyone only amplified your attraction to him. It was a reminder of why you were so drawn to him, beyond the accolades and the excitement of the evening.

Amid the chatter, you reached out and took Jude’s hand under the table, your fingers lacing with his. You squeezed it gently, your touch lingering. "Thanks for standing up for me," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Jude’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing against your hand in a slow, deliberate caress. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and reassuring, filled with a promise of more.

As you continued to mingle, the focus gradually shifted back to the others, but your thoughts were miles away, lost in the way Jude’s touch made you feel. There was a contentment in knowing that despite the overshadowing praise, you had Jude by your side.

As you and Jude settled into your seats in the church, the soft murmur of guests filled the air, blending with the gentle strains of the prelude music. Your attention was immediately drawn to Isabella, your six-year-old niece, who stood near the front with the other bridesmaids. Isabella, or Bella as the family fondly called her, looked absolutely adorable in her tiny ivory dress, a crown of flowers delicately perched atop her bouncy curls.

Your face lit up as she leaned forward, unable to contain her excitement. “Bella, you look like an absolute princess!” You gushed, your eyes twinkling with pride.

Bella smiled brightly, her cheeks flushing with happiness. She gave a little twirl, letting the layers of her dress float around her. “Thank you, Aunty Y/N! Do you really like it?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

“I love it,” You replied warmly, your smile wide and genuine. “You’re the most beautiful bridesmaid here.”

Jude sat beside you, his eyes soft as he watched the exchange. There was something incredibly heartwarming about the way you interacted with Bella—how you made the little girl feel so special and loved. He could see the natural ease with which you connected with your niece, and it stirred something deep within him.

As Bella giggled and skipped off to join the other bridesmaids, your gaze lingered on her, still glowing with affection. You turned back to Jude, your expression full of warmth. “She’s such a sweetheart, isn’t she?” You said, your voice tinged with pride.

Jude nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “She really is,” he agreed, but his mind was elsewhere.

Watching you with Bella made Jude think about your future together. He could so clearly imagine you as a mother, holding your own children with the same tenderness you showed Bella. The thought filled him with a deep sense of warmth and anticipation, a quiet longing that he kept to himself. He knew how much you cared for your niece, but he also knew that the idea of starting a family someday made you nervous. It was something you hadn’t really discussed, and Jude didn’t want to push it, especially not now.

Instead, he simply admired you, letting the image of your possible future settle in his heart. You had a way of making people feel cherished, and he knew you would be an incredible mother someday—but that was a conversation for another time.

You noticed the thoughtful look on Jude’s face and gave him a gentle nudge. “What are you thinking about?” You asked, you tone light and curious.

Jude shook off his thoughts, offering her a soft smile. “Just how good you are with Bella,” he said, keeping his voice casual.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you laughed softly. “She’s been my little Bella since the day she was born,” you replied, your voice filled with affection.

Jude squeezed your hand gently, his smile lingering as you turned your attention back to the front of the church, where the ceremony was about to begin. He didn’t need to say anything more. For now, he was content to simply be by your side, holding onto the quiet knowledge of what he hoped your future would hold—dreaming of a day when you would be ready to take that next step together.

The ceremony soon began, and You watched as your sister Eden took her place as a bridesmaid, while your brother Elliot stood proudly as Rowan’s best man. The anticipation grew as everyone waited for the bride.

As the music swelled, the doors at the end of the aisle opened, and Rosemary appeared, radiant in her wedding gown. You felt a lump form in your throat as you saw Rowan at the altar, his eyes brimming with tears as he watched his bride walk towards him. The emotion in the room was palpable, and you felt yourself getting choked up.

You couldn’t contain your excitement, smiling and gushing as you watched your brother. You had never seen Rowan so happy, and the joy in his eyes was contagious. Although you wished Noah could be there to witness this moment, your heart swelled with happiness for Rowan.

Little Isabella, the flower girl, walked ahead of Rosemary, carrying a basket of petals. Every few steps, she would delicately sprinkle the flowers along the aisle, her concentration adorable. You couldn’t help but admire Isabella’s dedication to her role, smiling each time the little girl looked up with pride.

Jude noticed the way your eyes lit up, how you seemed to be the embodiment of joy and love in that moment. He was completely besotted with you, watching you as you took in every detail of the ceremony. He knew, without a doubt, that you were the one he wanted to spend his life with.

The officiant began the ceremony, and soon it was time for Rowan and Rosemary to exchange vows. Rosemary took a deep breath and smiled at Rowan.

“Rowan, from the moment Noah introduced us, I knew you were special. I promise to always laugh at your jokes, even the terrible ones. I vow to support you in your dreams and to love you fiercely, no matter what.”

Rowan chuckled, wiping away a tear. “Rosemary, I promise to always let you have the last slice of pizza. I vow to support your dreams and to love you through every adventure, every challenge, and every joy.”

Jude felt his throat tighten, his emotions mirroring the couple’s. As Rowan and Rosemary exchanged their vows, he couldn’t help but imagine standing up there with you one day, saying those same words, making those same promises. The thought made his heart swell with a mixture of hope and longing.

The mention of Noah made your tears spill over, and you rested your head on Jude’s shoulder, finding comfort in his presence. Jude’s eyes were misty too, and he wiped away a tear discreetly, his emotions matching yours. He tightened his grip on you, feeling a surge of protectiveness and love.

As Rowan and Rosemary shared their first kiss as a married couple, the guests erupted into applause. You joined in, your heart full despite the bittersweet memories. You looked up at Jude, who smiled down at you with so much love and understanding that it made you feel incredibly grateful to have him by yiur side.

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Jude whispered, his voice slightly choked with emotion.

You nodded, wiping your tears. “Yeah, it really was.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking in the love and joy that filled the room. Jude’s thoughts wandered to the future, to the possibility of a life with you, filled with moments like this. He couldn’t help but dream of standing at an altar, looking into your eyes, and making vows of his own.

Later that evening, the reception is in full swing. The dance floor is alive with energy, guests mingling and celebrating Rowan and Rosemary’s union. The lights are dimmed, casting a warm, intimate glow over the scene.

You find yourself in the middle of the dance floor, smiling as Jude lifts little Isabella onto his shoulders. Her giggles are infectious as she waves her arms, trying to keep up with the rhythm. You dance alongside your sister Eden, the two of you moving in sync, laughing and twirling.

Isabella’s laughter rings out, her tiny hands clapping in delight. "More, more!" she shouts, and Jude obliges, spinning around and making her squeal with joy. Your heart swells with love as you watch Jude interact with your family. He fits in so perfectly, and it makes you think about what the future might hold for both of you.

You glance around the room, taking in the sight of your loved ones celebrating together. Rowan and Rosemary are glowing with happiness, sharing a private moment at their table. Your parents are dancing nearby, looking as in love as ever. The warmth and joy of the occasion fill you with a sense of peace. God, Noah would've loved this.

The DJ’s voice echoes through the speakers, “Can all couples please make their way to the floor for a slow dance?”

Isabella is gently lifted off Jude’s shoulders and handed over to Eden, who continues to twirl and dance with her. Jude turns to you, extending his hand with a playful bow. "May I have this dance?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with affection.

You giggle and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the center of the floor. The music slows, and the soft, romantic melody fills the room. Jude’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck, and together you sway gently to the rhythm.

As you move together, everything else seems to fade away. The chatter of the guests, the clinking of glasses, and even the music itself become a distant hum. It’s as if time has stopped, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

You look up at Jude, taking in his appearance. He’s wearing a tailored black tuxedo that fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and athletic build. His dark hair is styled neatly, and his deep brown eyes are filled with love and adoration as he gazes down at you. The way the dim light catches his features makes him look even more handsome, if that’s possible.

Jude’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that speaks volumes. His hands move gently up and down your back, sending shivers down your spine. You feel so safe, so cherished in his embrace.

“You know,” Jude murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I could get used to this. Dancing with you, being with you. Forever.”

Your heart flutters at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You smile up at him, your eyes misty with emotion. “Me too,” you reply softly. “Me too.”

You lose yourself in his eyes, feeling the world around you blur into insignificance. His touch is gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. The way he looks at you makes you feel like the only person in the room, and you know without a doubt that this is where you’re meant to be.

The music envelops you both, the melody weaving a cocoon of intimacy around you. You rest your head on Jude’s shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of being held by him. His scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him, fills your senses, making you feel even closer to him.

You’re wearing a stunning dress that’s a mix of red and black, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. The intricate lace details add an air of elegance, while the deep red color highlights your features, making your eyes sparkle. Your hair is styled in loose waves, cascading down your back, and your makeup is done to perfection, highlighting your natural beauty.

As the song progresses, you feel Jude’s hand slip down to rest on the small of your back, his fingers tracing light patterns that send a thrill through you. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and strong, and it matches the rhythm of your own.

You tilt your head up slightly, your lips brushing against his ear. “I love you" you whisper, the words coming straight from your heart.

Jude tightens his hold on you, his lips grazing your temple. “Me too, your my numero uno.” he replies, his voice filled with emotion.

The world around you ceases to exist as you sway together, completely lost in each other. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of peace and happiness you’ve never known before. Being with Jude feels like home.

As the song comes to an end, Jude leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It’s a promise, a silent vow of the future you both dream of. When you pull apart, the room comes back into focus, but the magic of the moment lingers.

You glance over to see Rowan and Rosemary sharing a similar moment, their love shining brightly. Your parents are still dancing, your mom resting her head on your dad’s shoulder with a contented smile. Even little Isabella is now nestled in Eden’s arms, looking sleepy but happy.

You feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and support surrounding you. And as you look back at Jude, you see the same emotion mirrored in his eyes. He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek.

“Ready for another dance?” he asks, his smile soft and inviting.

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Always,” you say, your voice filled with love.

The next song begins, and you lose yourself in Jude’s embrace once more. As you move together, you notice Jude’s expression shifts slightly, a familiar look of deep contemplation crossing his face.

“What is it?” you ask softly, curiosity piqued.

Jude looks slightly startled. “What do you mean?”

“You did that face earlier,” you insist. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Jude hesitates, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Jude, tell me!” you press, your eyes searching his.

He sighs softly, pulling you a little closer. “It’s just... when you were with Bella earlier, I couldn’t help but imagine what you’d be like with our kids. And when you were looking at Rosemary during the ceremony, all I could think about was how beautiful you’ll be when we get married.”

You’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart skipping a beat. “Jude...”

He quickly continues, sensing your apprehension. “I know, not now. But I also know that I want it with you. Whenever that is.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love there. It’s a lot to take in, but there’s a comforting certainty in his words. He isn’t pushing, just sharing his dreams, dreams that now feel a little less frightening and a lot more wonderful.

“I... I want that too,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Someday.”

Jude smiles, a look of pure adoration on his face. “Then someday it is,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you again, sealing the promise with a tender touch.

As the music plays on and you continue to dance, the future seems a little clearer, a little brighter. And with Jude by your side, you know that whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

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lancermylove · 6 months ago

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Dark Side of Dating Him 2 (Scenarios)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: Detailed warnings before each scenario, but the scenarios are dark.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I would love to see the even darker / more situational stuff for the demons 😳 or at least some of the bros

A/N: If you get sad easily, proceed with caution. If you like to feel the burn, enjoy. 😂

Series: [1]

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Warning: Angst, spoiler from OG.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pouring your heart out to Belphie. Your voice cracked with each word as you recounted the emotional turmoil you had recently in the past. It was something deeply personal that you had never shared with anyone else. When you finally turned your head to look at him with tear-filled eyes, hoping he would understand, you saw him fast asleep. Frustration boiled inside you. How could he fall asleep when you were sharing something so important? Tears rolled down your cheeks as you shook his shoulder, but he remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The following week was supposed to be special—a date you had planned with Belphie for your first anniversary. You had looked forward to it all week, imagining how wonderful it would be to spend time with him. But the hours passed, and the meeting time came and went. Belphie didn't answer your message or pick up your calls.

Somewhere in your heart, you worried something had happened to him, but your mind already knew why. A quick check of his room confirmed your worst fears: he was still asleep. The carefully planned date ended in disappointment, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. Later, when he finally woke up, he muttered a half-hearted apology for missing the date. His words lacked sincerity, and he clearly didn’t understand how much it meant to you.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in front of an enraged demon who hated that a human was in Devildom - a hater of Diavolo. Panic surged through your veins as you fled and desperately dialed your boyfriend's number. The phone rang endlessly, but he never picked up. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear gripping you tighter with each passing second. With no other options, you called the older brothers.

They arrived in time to help you before the demon could hurt you more or kill you. Exhausted and shaken, you returned to the House of Lamentation, your body aching from the ordeal. You headed straight to Belphie's room, your emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and betrayal. As expected, he lay in bed, barely awake. Even after he noticed your tear-streaked face, disheveled hair, and minor cuts on your skin, he remained lying down.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, his voice lacking genuine concern.

That was the final note. Your emotions broke, and you yelled at him in a cracking voice. "I almost died today because you wouldn't answer your phone! I was in danger, and you were just sleeping!"

"Sorry."

A weak apology was all he could offer, and the next instant, his eyes shut again. He was asleep once more. You stood there, stunned and heartbroken, staring at his sleeping form. Did he not care that you had nearly died? The memory of your past death at his hands flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the cruel reality. What else were you expecting from someone who had once killed you? The weight of your disillusionment settled heavily in your heart as you turned away, feeling more alone than ever before.

For the rest, visit my website: Dark Side of Dating Him 2

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➣ Please visit my website for the full masterlist!

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starburr · 1 month ago

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Ok so, Its my nth time talking about d-16 and orion/megatron and optimus. But LIKE WAIT, apart from the last interaction they share. Okay okay listen so. Apart from spitting out "This isn't over... Prime..." In such a venomous and contemptful way at him, we also have to remember he was not only feeling betrayed just seconds ago at Optimus banishing him, but he also renounced the Primes out of his blind anger prior to Optimus' resurrection. In that moment, they are at their weakest, Megatron more so literally as he limps away, and Optimus as he stands there to ponder on what to do now. What now that he's lost his guidance, his friend since he ever took to the mines, slaving days away for a promised future built around a lie that neither of them could have ever seen coming. But now that they have, the separate ways they now take is only gripping him then and there. Even after a fight to a mere surrender, after victorious over Megatron, his victory feels hollow. He lost so much more than a friend that day.

It hits hard with the contrast of their goodbyes. Megatron is still angered and blinded, confused even but holding it in why Optimus betrayed his vision. He can't understand that its his own selfishness underneath the true intention to break free from the oppression he's experienced for so long that when he finally has the power to change that, he lets it get to his head. And that can be felt in that simple yet tired; "This isn't over... Prime..." He's as angry as he is emotionally hurt by it all. He's hurt and so he wants Optimus to feel the hurt, its a twisted way of him calling out to what they once shared, to tell Orion he's doing something stupid again under all that harsh wording. He's distanced himself from the bot he once knew, Orion. The one who was so great and nerdy, so curious about their past. The one he covered for whenever the authorities had business with him, the one who brought him things because he knew he'd like them. Megatronus fanboy and all that, Orion knew what D-16 wanted. And he wanted him to see, they could aim for their own wants together. Now he is nothing more than a memory, somebody he used to know, somebody Megatron has to let go of and renounce as well. Optimus Prime. Speaking of Optimus... He's as gentle as he is stern in that moment. No degrading, no malice in his tone, just regret and sorrow. He simply states the facts as is, the gravity of Megatron's actions that day, and a nudging reminder of who he is to Megatron. A reminder he isn't like Sentinel, that he is a Prime who has proven to make a difference. A Prime who has died for Megatron. The saying "I'll love you till the day that I die" no longer applies because he will always carry that love within him, a love that outweighs the guilt he feels for inadvertently getting in Megatron's way. The day his best friend died, the day D-16 became Megatron. And so he tells him perhaps out of that same guilt and for consolation to take the High Guard with him, he knows how loneliness can be so crippling. He knows Megatron wants to be with like-minded mechs, so he lets him go softly. He breaks it to him in the gentlest way he can, no threats. No time to think about what to do next as he forlornly watches a friend drive away. Honestly? I think TF: One MEGOP as a relationship is summarized by a bunch of mitski lyrics glued together in scrapbook fashion, a little worn around in some parts. Might have some uneven cuttings on the side, a torn corner of a page here and there. But you can tell behind all that, it was made with love. There was deep history to it, and the fact its still maintained means someone's holding onto those pages, someone still wants to remember and hope for what once was to come back to them. Maybe it's Optimus, maybe it's Megatron. Maybe it'll hurt more if they find out both of them still want it, yet can never quite piece it back the way they wanted it to be. It hurts because you can see even without the romantic undertones, these two deeply cared for each other. Shared each other's burdens, conflicting ideas about how to change the world might have put a little dent in their relationship, but everything afterward boiled inside D-16. He was a kettle overflowing and Orion didn't realize it until it was too late.

#transformers #tf #tf one #transformers one #ramblings #my ramblings #zeth's ramblings #tf one megop #megop #transformers one orion pax #transformers one d16 #orion pax #d 16 #transformers one megatron #transformers one optimus prime

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syrena-del-mar · 5 months ago

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Navigating the Conflict in My Stand In: Surrender and Softening in Love

(Disclaimer: Ming/Joe is an incredibly toxic relationship; I fully realize and acknowledge that, but Poom makes a critical distinction in Joe's reasoning, and I think it's interesting to dissect. Also, this is fiction.)

It's been some time since I've written any meta, but I can't stop thinking about the video @poomphuripan shared of Poom making the distinction that Joe isn't giving in to Ming, but rather, his heart is melting for him.

It makes so much sense that Joe would melt at the littlest semblance of 'love.' He was so alone for so long. His parents have been dead for longer than he had them, he has no siblings, and his extended relatives don't care about him. I forget if it's mentioned in the show, but in the novel, Joe had a pretty big crush on Sol, and Sol rejected him quite brutally. Even without meaning to be, Joe is always alone at the end of the day.

Yes, Joe has friends, and yes, Joe made his own found family. But at the end of the day, Joe would return to an unlit, empty home. Everyone else would return to their wives or families, while Joe could only return to the pictures of his parents. Meanwhile, for all of Ming's bs and frightening behavior, he was the only one that made his dream come true.

For the first time, with Ming around, Joe would come home and be greeted by the warmth of another living, breathing person. Joe craved to have a human bond, and Ming was the one who was willing (albeit for his own interest) to give it to him. And he cooked for him. He took up space in his home! He remembered the very things Joe had told him he longed for. They had a lot of good times, a lot of good memories, and a pretty set routine that really integrated Ming into Joe's life. But then they fight, his blissful reality breaks, and Joe dies.

But Joe wakes up from what feels like a day's nap when, in actuality, two years have passed. And what does he find? Ming has cared for his apartment since his death and is unwilling to change anything just in case Joe returns. Ming continues to fulfill Joe's dream of returning to a warm home. So he turns on the lights, and he cooks the same dinner that they used to share for two years. And even in his rightful anger of wanting Ming to leave him alone, he's still seeing that. In the two years since his disappearance, someone still thought about him and hadn't fully grieved him. Ming's brother only confirms that.

Giving in would mean that Joe wanted to end the fight with Ming, when no feelings had changed. It'd be him emotionally surrendering himself, compromising his feelings of being just a double for Tong, and fully conceding himself when he still thought that Ming only saw him as a replacement. While Joe might have given Ming access to his body to pay his new mom's debts, he was still blocking Ming out as much as he could. But that's not why Joe forgives Ming; it's not for a superficial reason to stop the feud. There's a visible shift in how he perceives Ming, the guy who waited two years for him, who protected and filled his home with warmth, just in case he wasn't really gone. His motivation was rooted in the slivers of positive feelings he had for Ming, which allowed him to move past the anger that he held for him.

A quote that I've seen floating around the internet for years comes to mind. "And when nobody wakes you up in the morning and when nobody waits for you at night and when you do whatever you want. What do you call it? Freedom or loneliness?" Joe has had that freedom for the majority of his whole life. It's no longer freedom for him. But even his found family isn't fully aware of the loneliness that would wash over him when he would return to an empty home.

After all is said and done, he sees that only one person knows him intimately enough to understand and learn even the most mundane of his desires. Ming, even with all the toxic shit he has pulled, stood by his word of not letting Joe return to an empty home. For Joe, that was enough. It changes how he sees and understands Ming.

It's also why Sol and Joe would have never worked out.

As Poom said, ultimately, it's not that he gives in to Ming but rather he lets his heart melt when he sees exactly what Ming has done for him in his absence.

Even after everything, Joe still loves him.

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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Baby Come Back

�� summary: miles misses his girl even though he won’t admit to to himself or anyone else, but when he sees her starting to move on without him, naw that settles it. It’s time to win his baby girl back

➥ a/n: this was inspired by @laaailuh fic “I Miss You”

The tension in the air was palpable as Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, and his girlfriend (y/n) stood face to face in his small apartment. Their voices were raised, and emotions ran high, as they found themselves entangled in a heated argument.

"I can't do this anymore, Miles!" (y/n) exclaimed, her eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "You've been distant, shutting me out, and taking your anger out on me. It's not fair!"

Miles clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to express the turmoil inside him. "I know I've been a mess since my dad died," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But I'm trying to deal with it in my own way."

(y/n) took a step back, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. "I understand that you're going through a lot, but you can't just push me away and expect me to stick around," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I need to be with someone who can share their pain with me, not shut me out."

Miles felt a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he had been unfair to (y/n). He loved her deeply, but the darkness of his grief had consumed him, making it difficult for him to see beyond his own pain.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need you, (y/n). Please, don't leave."

(y/n)'s eyes welled up with tears, torn between her love for Miles and the toll his emotional distance was taking on her. "I love you too, Miles, but I can't keep being hurt like this," she said, her voice choked with sadness. "You need to confront your grief and find a way to heal, for both of us."

As the words hung in the air, the weight of their unresolved issues seemed to crush them both. (y/n) turned away, unable to bear the pain in Miles' eyes, while he struggled to find the strength to let her go.

In the following days, the silence between them grew heavy and suffocating. They tried to carry on with their lives separately, but their hearts longed for the comfort and love they once shared.

One evening, as the sun set over the city, (y/n) made her decision. She couldn't keep waiting for Miles to heal on his own. She knew that it was time to face the truth and let go, even if it broke her heart.

She went to Miles' apartment, her footsteps echoing with each heavy step. The door opened, and Miles stood before her, his eyes red and swollen, a reflection of the pain he carried.

"I can't keep pretending that everything is okay," (y/n) said softly, her voice wavering. "I need to put myself first, and that means letting go."

Tears streamed down Miles' cheeks as he nodded, his heart aching with the weight of their decision. "I don't want to lose you, but I know I've been pushing you away," he said, his voice choked with regret. "I'm so sorry for hurting you."

They stood there, facing each other, knowing that their love wasn't enough to mend the broken pieces of their hearts. Their bond had been strong, but the weight of grief had shattered it.

With one last embrace, (y/n) turned away, her heart breaking as she walked away from the man she loved. The tears flowed freely as she left behind the life they once shared, but she knew that it was the right decision for both of them.

In the days that followed, the void left by their breakup was a constant reminder of the love they had lost. Miles faced his grief head-on, seeking counseling and support from friends and family, determined to find a way to heal.

And though they had parted ways, the memories of their love lingered in the corners of their hearts. The road ahead was uncertain, but they both knew that their journey towards healing had only just begun.

•••

In the days that followed the breakup, Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, became even more withdrawn and closed off. The pain of losing (y/n) weighed heavily on his heart, and he found solace in isolating himself from his friends and emotions. He had always been good at hiding his feelings behind the mask of the prowler, but now it seemed like he was hiding from himself too.

At school, Miles tried to maintain a façade of indifference, a mask that he wore to shield himself from the questions and concerns of his friends. As he walked through the halls, he could feel the worried glances of his classmates, but he pretended not to notice.

During lunchtime, others approached him cautiously, their concern evident in their expressions. "Hey, Miles, are you doing okay?" Stu asked, his voice soft and caring.

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect their worries. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied with a forced smile. "It just didn't work out with (y/n), you know? It's whatever."

Stu exchanged a concerned glance with Anthony, realizing that Miles was trying to hide his pain. "You sure, man? We're here for you if you need to talk," he said gently.

Miles nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to share the turmoil inside him. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding eye contact with his friends. "I've got other stuff to focus on."

Just then the bell rang signaling that it was time for class.

As Miles sat in his classroom, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions, he couldn't help but notice that (y/n) was just a few seats ahead of him. His heart clenched as he saw someone pass her a note discreetly.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the exchange. He could feel a pang of jealousy stirring within him, a reminder of the connection they once shared.

Trying to focus on the lesson, he fought the urge to look again. But as the minutes ticked by, his mind kept wandering back to the note. He couldn't shake the feeling of being left out, of no longer being a part of her life.

When the class finally ended, Miles gathered his belongings, but his feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the exit. He knew he should be moving on, but seeing (y/n) with someone else reminded him of what he had lost.

As he walked past her, he couldn't help but glance in her direction. Their eyes met briefly, and a mix of emotions washed over him. He wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but his pride held him back.

In the bustling school hallway, Miles mustered the courage to call out to (y/n) as she was making her way to her next class. "Hey, (y/n)!" he said, his voice a mix of nervousness and hope.

She turned around, surprised to see him, but she managed a polite smile. "Hey, Miles. What's up?" she asked, her guard up, unsure of what he wanted to talk about.

"I was wondering if we could meet up after school," he said, his eyes earnest. "There's something I really need to talk to you about."

(y/n) hesitated, her heart still guarded, but she knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't resolve anything. "Miles, I don't think there's a need for us to talk," she replied, her voice measured. "It's all been said, hasn't it?"

Miles took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words he wanted to say. "Please, cariño" he implored, "I just need a chance to explain and apologize. There's so much I want to say, and I can't keep pretending like everything's okay."

Her resolve softened as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. With a small sigh, she relented. "Okay, fine," she said, "but just this once, and only because I think we both deserve some closure."

•••

After school, they met at a nearby park, finding a quiet bench to sit on. The air between them was tense, but there was an unspoken understanding that they needed to have this conversation.

Miles began, his words slow and heartfelt. "I'm sorry,cariño, for shutting you out and being distant," he said, his voice tinged with remorse. "I've been dealing with so much since my dad's passing, and I didn't know how to handle it. But that's not an excuse for treating you the way I did."

She listened attentively, the wall around her heart slowly starting to crumble. "I know it was hard for you," she said softly, "but it was hard for me too. I felt like you pushed me away, and it hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Miles replied, his gaze downcast. "I never meant to hurt you, (y/n). I just... I didn't know how to handle my emotions, and I thought if I pushed you away, it would protect you from my pain."

Her heart softened as she saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "You don't have to protect me, Miles," she said gently. "I wanted to be there for you, to help you through your grief."

He reached out and took her hand, his grip gentle yet pleading. "I wish I had let you in," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I had talked to you about everything, instead of shutting you out."

Silence settled between them, the weight of their emotions palpable. (y/n) finally spoke, her voice tinged with sadness. "I miss you too, mi amor," she admitted, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss us, but I don't know if we can go back to how things were."

Miles nodded, understanding the complexity of their situation. "I don't expect things to go back to normal right away," he said. "I just hope that we can find a way to move forward, even if it's not together."

Her heart ached, torn between the love she still felt for him and the uncertainty of their future. "I need time to heal too," she said softly. "But I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

And so, beneath the setting sun, they started to open up to each other, their words filled with both pain and hope. As they talked, they realized that they needed to be honest about their feelings, even if it meant facing the difficult truths they had been avoiding.

Their conversation was raw and emotional, but it was a start. A start towards healing, towards understanding, and towards finding closure. Whether their paths would converge again or lead in different directions, they both knew that they had grown from their experiences and that they would always cherish the love they once shared.

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brainddeadd · 18 days ago

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we haven’t talked much about baby devils family besides her mom… so maybe she’s an only child also why she’s love the boys so much because she has never had siblings and what if she lost her dad a few years ago to cancer and it’s not something she really talks about only person on the devils that knows is luke so maybe when it was the cancer game it was really important to her and everyone found out about her dad

The Cancer Game

warnings: parental death

ok so.. my dad died and this is how i'd want my friends to react and how some of them did react..

if you've lost someone close to you, i am so sorry for your loss

The New Jersey Devils locker room was filled with the usual celebration buzz. They’d just pulled off a big win, and everyone was riding high on the thrill of it, the energy bouncing off the walls as teammates shouted and laughed. Normally, Y/N would have been in the thick of it, cracking jokes and soaking up the post-game excitement with her team. But tonight, she’d been different. She’d put on a brave face, even cheered a little in the locker room, but her heart wasn’t in it. Only Luke noticed the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, the way she slipped out of the room as soon as she could without saying a word to anyone.

He’d seen her like this before, knew the kind of weight that could press down on her after certain games. The annual Cancer Awareness game, something that meant so much to the Devils organization and their fans, had an especially painful significance for her. A few years back, her dad had passed away after a long battle with cancer. It wasn’t something she talked about; she kept her emotions tucked away and rarely let them out, but this game always hit her hard. Luke was the only one who knew, and though she never said anything, he’d learned to recognize the signs.

The other guys hadn’t quite pieced it together yet, but they were noticing the change in her. Jack frowned as he watched her leave. “Did you guys see Y/N? She just left so quickly. I don’t think she even said goodbye.”

“Yeah, and she was barely talking all night,” Nico added, crossing his arms with a worried look. “She seemed…off. You think something’s wrong?”

Dawson, still buzzing from the win, looked back toward the door, his excitement dimming. “She didn’t even celebrate like usual. You think we should check on her?”

Luke glanced at them, a little torn. Y/N was private, and he didn’t want to betray her trust, but he also didn’t want her to be alone with this. With a slight nod, he said, “Yeah. I think we should.” He didn’t offer an explanation yet, but his face was serious, and the others picked up on it right away.

The group left together, the energy in the car shifting to something quieter and more solemn as they drove to Y/N’s place. They entered her apartment, hoping she’d be alright, but the scene they found tugged at their hearts.

Y/N was curled up on her couch, her face hidden in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Luke stepped forward first, his heart heavy as he saw his friend so vulnerable. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder before sitting next to her, pulling her into his side. She leaned into him, not saying anything, but letting him be there.

The others stood back, exchanging looks of uncertainty and sadness. They hadn’t seen her like this before and didn’t want to intrude, but they also couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her alone.

After a quiet moment, Jack finally spoke up. “Is…is she okay? What’s going on?” he asked softly, his voice filled with worry.

Luke took a breath, deciding to share what he knew in the hopes that they’d understand. “Her dad…he passed away from cancer a few years back. This game…this night…it’s a lot for her to handle. It brings back memories.”

There was a stunned silence as the reality of her pain sank in. Dawson looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for not realizing sooner. Nico’s expression softened, his eyes full of empathy as he took a step closer to her.

Jack’s face fell. He crouched down beside her, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. You should’ve said something. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

Nico nodded, his voice gentle. “We’re family, Y/N. Whatever you need, we’re here. Always.” His words were soft, filled with the warmth of someone who understood what it meant to be part of a team that cared deeply for each other beyond just hockey.

Dawson gave her a supportive smile, his voice as warm as he could make it. “Yeah, we’re here for you. If you ever need to talk or even just want someone around to keep you company, don’t hesitate. We’ve got your back.”

Y/N looked up through red, tear-streaked eyes, managing a small, appreciative smile as she took in the scene. There they were—her teammates, her friends, her family—standing around her with faces full of concern and love. She hadn’t planned to let them see her like this, hadn’t planned to share the part of herself that was still so raw and aching. But here they were, offering her every bit of their support, not backing away from her sadness.

Luke’s arm tightened around her shoulders as he whispered, “You’re not alone. I’m here. We’re all here.”

Y/N felt her heart swell as Jack, Nico, and Dawson each moved closer, surrounding her with a warmth and presence that filled the room. They didn’t try to fix her pain or rush her through it; they simply sat with her, letting her know that she didn’t have to bear this alone. The weight of her grief felt a little lighter with them there, their quiet strength helping to carry her forward, reminding her that no matter how heavy the burden, she would never have to shoulder it by herself again.

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rosabell14 · 4 months ago

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An analysis of Bianca di Angelo's role in the narrative and why bad writing can screw over a character.

For someone with such a limited time in the narrative, Bianca is one of the most divisive characters in the fandom. I've been in the fandom long enough to see how much nuance the fandom lacks when discussing certain characters and Bianca is no difference. But it's more than just viewing the characters' actions in a vacuum. It's ignoring the larger narrative problems. At the end of the day Bianca suffers from one simple problem: she's barely a character outside of her role in Nico's narrative. Like it or not, her entire character exists to die and give Nico issues down the road but Riordan's writing decisions didn't do her any favours either.

I feel like this is a huge issue when it comes to the pjo fandom they often try to come up with Watsonian solutions to problems that are Doylist in nature and Bianca is one example of that.

Case in point: Riordan's shit math when it comes to the Di Angelo siblings and how it messes up with bianca's character.

So when we meet them they're 10 and 12. We learn that their memories of their past is kinda hazy and that they don't remember their parents but that they were in a boarding school, then they moved to the lotus hotel, then they were taken out of the hotel and put into Westover's. And at the end we learn that they're Hades's children born before the oath of the big 3.

Said oath happened after WW2 btw. So 1945 probably since Bianca remembers FDR's presidency.

Now in TLO we get an update on this backstory. Hades is speaking to Maria about moving his children to the underworld or the lotus hotel since Maria doesn't like the former option because the war has put Hades in a bad situation with his brothers and also the prophecy is out, the oath has been taken and they're running out of time to hide the kids. So logic says that it's 1945. And then Zeus immediately kills Maria and Hades tells Alecto to erase the children's memories and put them in the lotus hotel, and honestly? I like this version much better? Because why in the world would Hades Put his children in a boarding school for a few years and THEN hide them in the hotel after they were nearly assassinated? Why not immediately put them in the hotel?

And so we get to our main dilemma. Bianca having to raise Nico. This was already strange to me because it's not as if this is a Jason and Thalia situation where Jason was a toddler and Thalia had to take care of him. Nico is not a baby they have a two year age difference. But of course these kinds of things might matter more if you're young. Even then, in what situation would Bianca be Nico's main caretaker? They were put into a magic hotel that mind you, makes time go faster so for them it was a month or two at best and they would have been given whatever they needed by the staff? Same type of issue with Westover's and the boarding school if you want consider that canon. They would have been taken care of by the facility. They probably wouldn't even have shared classes or dorms? Or am I misunderstanding American boarding schools?

And then, Riordan's bad math strikes again and this time with the characters' ages. Because Nico's age in HoO becomes 14 which would have made him 11/almost 12 in TTC but that's not the big problem, no no no. The problem comes from his official birthday which is 1932.

1932... Which would have made him 13 and Bianca 15 by the time Maria dies. Which is hilarious because with the way the kids are written during her death scene as absolute non players with nary a reaction, you would think they were written to be toddlers who didn't understand anything that was going on.

That royally screws over Bianca as a character (and me as someone who's trying to write a story centered around her). Because her main thing. The one time she's allowed to have complexity is the moment where she talks about how she wants to be more than Nico's caretaker, and she's barely Nico's caretaker at all. The best in universe explanation I can come up for this is that this is how Bianca perceives things because that's all that she literally remembers. Those months in the hotel and Westovers.

Another time the plot kinda messes her up is at the beginning of TTC. One complaint that I often see in regards to her Is how quickly she makes her decision. She does not even hesitate. She does not even wait to see the camp. You know the place that would have taken care of her and Nico which would have meant she wasn't going to be his supposed primary caretaker anymore? She doesn't even wait to see if it was an actual good place for her brother? Spoiler alert: it's not camp half-blood at the time was not a good place for either of them really. Nico did not have a cabin at camp and people were not accepting of him. Hell, people not being accepting of hades and his children was something established since the first book.

But once again, this is a Doylist problem at its core. We need to turn Bianca into a hunter but we also need Artemis to leave so that she can be kidnapped for the main conflict, so she leaves before the hunters even reach camp. Half-blood. So Bianca as a character doesn't even get to make a proper choice between the camp and the hunters. To people who only look at characters on an in universe level, it comes off as very rash and not well thought out.

To be fair, on an in universe level, she's a kid so it's okay if she's stupid, but Riordan wasn't trying to make her come off as that way? He treats Bianca's decision as a legit serious choice and not the rash decision of a desperate child.

And once again, Bianca is here for Nico's sake more than anything. She needs to die. So she takes the statue for Nico. Which is so ironic and tragic if you decide to play it that way. That Bianca wanted to be more than Nico's sister, but her literal death revolves around being his sister. Normally I'd enjoy this level of angsty irony but unfortunately that's how the very narrative treats her as well. Even her post mortem decisions are there to maximize Nico's angst more than that they're there to say anything about Bianca herself. We need Bianca to only appear at the end of Botl so that Nico and Percy can have a conflict but it once again comes at the cost of Bianca herself coming off as callous. What's the in universe reason for this behavior? It's so stupid because in universe, Nico doesn't even take that much convincing? One conversation. One conversation and Nico was convinced to stop his efforts in reviving her. Does she just not know her brother enough? Maybe since they technically know each other for a year max. Does she genuinely think she's that easy to give up on? Is she that conflict avoidant? I actually like this interpretation and plan to use it. There's much to be done with a character who's rash and bold but an absolute emotional coward who'd try to avoid an emotionally charged conversation until they absolutely can't.

Hell even after Botl, it's the same song and dance. Hades makes an absolute vile remark at Nico's expense. TSATS makes it into a joke moment and has you believe that Hades simple said that Bianca would have been a better demigod. No ladies and gentlemen. Hades literally tells Nico that he wished Bianca had survived instead.(The fact that I still think that hades is the best godly parent just shows you how low the bar is more than anything.)

I swear to God I spent so much time racking my brain trying to understand what this could mean for Bianca's character.

This is how I basically look like trying to milk every scene where Bianca is there as a character or is mentioned for every drop of characterization.

At the end of the day, I can't blame most of the fandom for being ambivalent towards her at best. The story by design is about Nico. It's designed for you to sympathize with him and yeah if I'm to look at it from Nico's perspective. He DID get abandoned, regardless of Bianca's intentions. From his Perspective , which is the one most people would take, his sister took the very first chance she could to ditch him for people she barely knew hoping people either of them barely knew would take care of him even though they haven't even seen the place yet, and then ignored him for months while he was desperate for a single conversation with her. Honestly had Nico outright resented his sister for leaving, I think the reaction towards her would have even been worse.

(Another sidenote, my very hot tea Is that I like to believe that had Bianca lived her and Nico's relationship would have become worse as time went on and as the camp's anti hades sentiments really started taking their toll on Nico. But I'm just an angst lover)

Worse is that this story is told from Percy's perspective and these two only have like 3 actual conversations together. One of them is her dying, one is about her making her first main decision and that's at the expense of Nico who's probably the fandom favorite behind Percy and Annabeth and the other is her trying to explain her aforementioned decision to Percy and even then, she talks about it in such broad strokes. "I want to be more than X" tells us about who you one day wish to be not about who you are at the current moment. And even when we have Nico as a POV character, Bianca is only there for "dead family member" trope. There's barely any moment where Nico remembers anything important about her to give her any depth. The cards are just stacked against her. Even the people who are at the "Bianca did nothing wrong camp" are barely interested in her. I swear to god whenever an AU comes up where she's alive, the focus is STILL on Nico. Oh Nico would have been such a happy person had she lived! And Bianca? Uhhhhh she would have fucked off with the hunters I guess?

Can we talk about the hunters while we're here?

If we WERE to talk about in universe scapegoats, I'd honestly choose the hunters. Honestly I could make a separate post about how much I hate how Riordan handled them. But oh dear God the way they're presented just comes off as creepy. The way they initially (up until TOA) only go for young girls because apparently older girls aren't useful once they hit puberty and start developing feelings for people and lose themselves(TTC and Percy Jackson's Greek gods oh dear lord are they terrible in Percy Jackson's Greek gods). How they're basically the heroine dumping ground for when Riordan doesn't know what to do with a female character. How ultimately in universe, Zoe more than anyone is to blame to for Bianca's death by taking an untrained girl to a mission where she KNOWS two people would die at the very least. And she doesn't even watch her properly during the mission. Honestly I could barely feel anything about Zoe's death upon rereads as an adult for this very reason. Or how stupid it is to basically put a child in front of a candy store and expect them to make a responsible decision. Who in their right mind would have young girls as young as nine take a celibacy vow? Oh but you'll be safe with us (never mind that we're not just normal hunters here like the actual myths but actual monster hunters) and you'll totally be able to see your brother when you want (actually we barely visit camp half-blood) oh but you'll be a FAMILY with us! Except you know if you catch feelings or get assaulted(holy hell how Riordan depicts the myth of Callisto makes me want to tear my hair out of my scalp)

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