#HES SUPPOSED TO BE SMILING HERE!!!! WHATEVER!!!!!!!

[peachsayshi]

PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

[jesuistrestriste]

Cowgirl reader x art when

𐚁 ✮⋆˙ needy!art donaldson x cowgirl NSFW 18+

—

art doesn’t even know why he agreed to go with patrick down south for an impromptu boys trip.

it’s stickier down there; the humidity so high that the air is practically drinkable.

the heat suffocated him and climbed down his throat the second he got off the plane, and patrick had unsurprisingly laughed at him when he developed sweat stains on his tee shirt after only ten minutes in the uber to their hotel. it wasn’t his fault, he just never handled high temperatures well.

he blamed the desert, or whatever hellish fire-breathing beast was desecrating this part of the country with such unimaginable warmth. he could hardly think straight with the way his clothing clung to his heat-prickled skin.

he regretted going on the trip from the moment they touched down at the airport. he wished he had stayed back home, then at least he could get some time on the courts. but no.

and so he ruminated on the idea that he shouldn’t have come.

that is, until he and pat went out to a bar that first night.

patrick had already gotten drunk in the first twenty-five minutes and was feeling up a stranger, staggering with them off into a booth buried at the back of the establishment to get handsy. art’s eyes had rolled so far back that he was sure the earth had almost tipped with them.

he leaned over the busy bar, sipping his underwhelming tequila soda until he felt someone different slip into the space next to him.

a woman.

a pretty—no, sexy one at that.

glossy lips, a loose tee shirt that hung off of one shoulder (pink bra strap on display), dark flare jeans that hugged her in all the right places, brown leather boots, and a cowboy hat.

she couldn’t look more typically southern. but fuck, she was hot.

she turns her head and smiles up at him, her hat tilting up with her neck’s movement to expose more of her face.

“hey,” she hums, her eyes scanning him up and down before he can even speak, “… you’re not from here, are you?”

her voice is warm and silky, like dark chocolate. it floods his brain and immediately dilutes his thoughts into incoherent ramblings.

god, why hasn’t he said anything?

say something, damnit!

“ha..! no, no.. not from here,” art chuckles out nervously after a brief clearing of his throat.

she just smirks. putting her pearly whites on display for everyone to see. or maybe just for him..?

“yeah, i could tell by the way you’re dressed.”

was.. was that an insult?

is he supposed to laugh?

shit, she smells like the most delicious—

the thoughts in his brain are cut off abruptly when he feels her hand on his chest, dragging down.

oh fuck.

“relax, city boy,” she purrs with an intoxicating drawl, her free hand taking the hat off of her own head and placing it on top of his blonde curls, “i didn’t mean to get y’all worked up.. i’ll buy you a drink, hm?”

“i.. uh, i mean— okay, yeah, uhm, sure. i’ll take a drink..”

—

an hour comes and goes, and then art somehow winds up in the back of the girl’s car; parked on the outskirts of the small gravel lot.

it’s a shiny, cherry-red convertible. fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. a picture of a well-groomed black horse tucked into the driver seat’s personal mirror (which she flipped up once the two of them were taking off their clothes).

patrick was still somewhere in the bar, preoccupied, so art felt less guilty about letting this woman drag him out the backdoor towards her vehicle. all it had taken was one sloppy kiss, and then he was willingly trailing behind her like a sick dog.

art can hardly process that now they’re completely naked; his flushed back sticking to her leather seats as she sinks down on his cock. a shuddering groan is pulled forcefully from his chest, spilling out in the next instant. he feels his balls draw up once, twice, three times in response to the feeling of her tight cunt gripping around him, and he swears he could almost come right then and there. she’s like a fucking goddess.

“can you handle me?” she smirks down to him, starting to rock her hips rhythmically like she’s riding a mechanical bull, “i wanna hear an answer, darlin’…”

“can’t—“

ugh, he’s choking on his words. shaking hands holding her waist with the desperation of a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year. he’s allowed to be a bit pathetic.

“can’t?” she repeats, bouncing now on his slicked-up shaft, her nails running down his tensing abdomen and leaving red stripes in their wake.

he shakes his head, a loud whimper and gasp following suit. his thighs are starting to tremble. toes already started curling thirty seconds ago.

“can’t— can’t last, not gonna last—“

the woman just laughs lowly and rolls her pelvis in slow circles. art’s body vaults up in response, pushing against her weight on top of him as he feels a blurt of precome erupt from his tip and surround him in the condom— daring him to disappoint her and let it all go before he gets the go-ahead.

“ohh… aah— you really aren’t from around here, are you? poor lil’ thing…”

he doesn’t know why that statement from her makes his gut stir with pre-orgasmic convulsions. he’s trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, but he’s losing stamina fast. every buck of his body into her pussy sends a sharp bolt of pleasure right up his spine. he’s sweating almost as much now as he was when he first arrived. probably moreso, if he’s honest.

and shit, he can’t be anything but honest at this point.

she’s making him forget everything he ever disliked about this part of the country.

she’s making him feel like her pussy could solve all of his problems.

she’s making him feel like… like… like—

“oh, god—!” he hiccups, squeezing into her torso, head tipped back and biceps curling as he tries to tug her down closer, “i’m sorry, i can’t hold it— i’m gonna come, can’t— can’t stop-!”

she giggles, and then there’s the voice again. warm, smooth, low. dripping right into the crook of his neck.

“alright, city boy,” she whispers, “come then.”

and that’s all it takes.

art’s eyes squeeze shut, his jaw slacks, and he lets out the most desperate strangled cry as he feels the scorching waves of pleasure consume him from all sides. he feels his cock kick against her palpating walls, pulses of his sticky white release webbing on the inside of the latex.

he’s practically vibrating by the time the aftershocks roll around, his baby blues looking up dazedly to the smiling woman still connected to him. her hands cup his flushed cheeks, her thumbs wiping beaded sweat from his temples and his forehead.

“there ya go… thaaat’s it, darlin’… let it all out…”

art sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpers as he feels his dick stir inside of her, threatening to shoot again just from her words.

“haah… ha-aahngh… hnngh,” he quakes, gasping for air and trying to calm himself down, “h-how did… ngh— how did y-you do that t-to me..?”

trying not to sound so utterly wrecked is easier said than done, he’s realizing that now. he really can’t prevent it- he’s nothing more than a limp mess underneath her perfect form.

he winces and hisses softly with sensitivity when she torturously rocks just once more over his spent parts.

“oh, honey,” she laughs, “we just do it different down here.”

… god, he loves the south.

[ch6rm]

✧ ࣪˖ angel!reader & dealer!chris exploring a hidden trail together

˖ soph's note i love them sooo much nd i can’t wait to write more about this au!! feel free to send in asks + reqs in my inbox about them <3

chris slouched on the worn bench, the smell of damp earth and wildflowers filling the air around him. a half-burned joint dangled lazily from his fingers as he stared out at the greenery of the hidden trail you had dragged him to. he still wasn’t sure how you managed to convince him—he really wasn't in the mood. but he found it hard to say no to you.

twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet as you picked a few wild flowers. you looked over to see chris still sitting on the bench, noticing he had brought a joint with him. “really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and pointing at the joint in his hand. “you’re out here breathing in fresh air, and you’re still doing that?”

chris gave you a dry smirk, taking a slow drag and exhaling the smoke into the breeze. “fresh air doesn’t do much for me,” he muttered, flicking the ash away.

you plopped down beside him, shaking your head. “you know that stuff isn’t good for you,” you said, your voice soft. “you can’t keep doing it forever.”

chris glanced at you, the teasing edge in his expression still there. he wanted to say you cared too much, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. “chill out, angel. 's not that bad. it's all about balance,” he mumbled, turning his gaze back to the trees.

for a moment, there was silence, the distant sound of birds chirping filling the space between them. you rested her chin on your hand, watching him with that same patient, gentle look you always gave him—the one that somehow made him feel seen and annoyed all at once.

“you’re lucky i dragged you out here,” you finally said, bumping your shoulder against his lightly. “nature’s good for the soul. way better than whatever you’re smoking.”

chris snorted, shaking his head as a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “you’re such a pain, you know that?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, grinning. “but you love it.” you looked at him before handing him the wildflowers you picked, "here, i picked some flowers. take them home, they're pretty.”

he didn’t respond at first, leaning back against the bench as he took the flowers from you. for a moment, he just stared at the flowers, brows furrowing slightly. he shifted his weight on the bench, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were trying to suppress a smile or a laugh. you weren’t sure if he thought it was stupid or if he was just caught off guard. “what am i supposed to do with these?” chris asked, his voice low, but there wasn’t any bite to it—just quiet curiosity.

“whatever you want,” you said with a shrug, “maybe they’ll brighten up your place or something.”

he didn’t really need the flowers. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you had already taken care of brightening up the place—bringing something he hadn’t realized he was missing. the flowers in his hand were just another piece of the strange, unspoken thing that was growing between the two of you.

© ch6rm

🏷️ @sweetestpoetic @inspiredangel @watercolorskyy @sllutty-sturniolo @ily-tothemoonandback

[blindmortal]

───── not for sale 박종성 p.js

༉‧₊˚. Jay spent his entire life with his every wish being fulfilled, but what happens when he meets a girl that is not as easily swayed by the endless riches that surrounded his life? ★ rich boy! jay park x fem!reader. fluff & w.c 3.2k ; jay pining, skinship, kissing (?)

─── ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

If you had told Jay from a few months ago that money couldn’t buy its way through everything, he would’ve laughed at you and tossed a wad of cash in your face. Those crisp green bills had been his ticket to getting whatever he wanted for as long as he could remember. As a child, they bought him toys and books; as he grew older, they secured him clothes, watches, and even the illusion of friendship. Everything could be fixed with money; after all, in this capitalist society, wasn’t that what everyone prayed for?

How naive he’d been to believe in such a fallacy. Because now, staring at you—your animated figure effortlessly taking orders behind the café counter—he realized that some things had no price tags. No amount of money could ever afford something as invaluable as your attention.

Not that it stopped him from trying. Each advance, no matter how many thousands they cost, was met with the same polite rejection—a small smile and a bow of your head.

It only made his heart greedier for you, knowing that material things couldn’t sway you the way they did so many others. To know you would rather work until your hands bled than accept empty charity. The kind of hard work and determination Jay had never known—never needed to know—because the world had always bowed at his command. Now, it allured him more than anything else ever had.

He moved to you now, and he swore you huffed an exasperated sigh before that plastic smile took over your features.

“Jay! Always good to see our loyal regular,” you chirped, your voice bright and practiced, and Jay bit back a chuckle. He knew you didn’t mean a word of it.

After all, he’d probably driven you up the wall with the sheer number of gifts he’d brought over the past few weeks—each one met with an increasingly strained smile and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a faint twitch of your brow. The last one had even earned you a stern lecture from your manager about “workplace professionalism,” something Jay definitely hadn’t intended to jeopardize.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. How else was he supposed to get your attention? He might’ve been the café’s biggest spender—your manager’s favorite customer by default—but the thought of being just another nameless face in your sea of patrons didn’t sit well with him.

So here he was, standing in line yet again, ready to order more coffee than anyone reasonably should, all for the fleeting moments of your undivided attention.

"Always happy to see you, pretty," he replied smoothly, flashing a smile that could probably charm the entire café.

You cocked your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you took in his unusually minimal appearance. Sure, he was still in his usual outfit—a black dress shirt left slightly unbuttoned at the top, paired with sleek black pants and polished shoes. The dainty silver chain resting against his collarbone caught the light just enough to draw attention, and you’d be lying if you said the man wasn’t ridiculously attractive. But beauty wasn’t everything, you reminded yourself. God forbid you fall for someone who was all riches and no substance.

Still, something was off. For once, he wasn’t lugging in a huge bag stuffed with overpriced gifts—a luxury handbag, an extravagant piece of jewelry, or whatever else his bottomless bank account could conjure up. Gifts that always came with a sheepish grin and a lame excuse about how they "just happened" to catch his eye.

“I’ll take the usual,” he said, already pulling out his wallet to retrieve his black card. He handed it to you with a practiced ease, but his fingers lingered as they always did, hoping to come in contact with yours.

And while you usually avoided his touch, this time, you let your fingers graze his, biting back a smile when his eyes widened ever so slightly at the contact. The reaction was immediate—a faint dusting of pink rising to his cheeks, his composure faltering for just a moment.

“Be right with you,” you said with a wink before disappearing to prepare his order, leaving him standing there with the unmistakable look of someone who’d just had their entire day made.

You reappeared at the counter, placing a collection of drinks that looked like they were meant for half his employees—or maybe an entire office—each one arranged with the kind of care only you seemed to give to something as simple as a coffee order.

Okay, Jay, you got this. How hard could it be?

He huffed a breath, trying to shake off the nerves before locking eyes with you, and he felt his entire composure falter. God, you were gorgeous. Even in that moment, when your appearance was slightly unkempt from running around all morning—tending to a rush of customers, preparing drinks, your hair falling loosely around your face, cheeks flushed from the exertion—you still looked more like a vision than any woman he’d seen, even on the red carpet. Your uniform, with a small coffee stain on the hem, only made you seem more real, more you, and somehow, that made you even more captivating.

“C-could I, you know—” he stumbled, his palms suddenly clammy as he mentally slapped himself for sounding like a fool. “Could I get your number?”

For all his wealth and success, this was the first time he realized it wasn’t enough to win you over. All those gifts, all the luxury, had gotten him nowhere. But something about the way you carried yourself, how genuine you were—it had drawn him in, teaching him that you craved something real.

You tilted your head, blinking slowly at him, a teasing hint in your eyes. “Is that too direct?” he blurted, heart racing in his chest. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to—”

His words faltered, and the self-consciousness surged again. But then you laughed—soft and genuine—and the sound knocked the air right out of his lungs.

With a smooth, fluid motion, you grabbed a pen, your fingers brushing against his as you scribbled something down on a small sticky note. You slid it across the counter with a knowing smile, your eyes meeting his for a brief, electrifying second before you turned, moving gracefully to tend to the next customer.

For a moment, he just stood there, the note in his hand like it was a prize he had no idea how to claim. He looked back at you, your smile a bit wider now, a slight bounce in your step as you moved to make an order, and he swears he melts into a puddle right then and there.

"Your father is like, the richest man in the country, and you're asking where me where you should take her out to?" Jake couldn't help but scoff at his friend who had showed up banging on his office door for a so-called emergency meeting — deciding how to ask out the pretty barista from the cafe down the road. "Doesn't your dad take your mom out to a fancy Michelin-starred restaurant like, every week? Just take her to a place like that, any girl would kill for the opportunity."

Jay groaned, rubbing his temples. "You don’t get it, dude. She’s not just any girl. I’ve literally bought her every single Birkin, but the one day I decide not to show up with some extravagant gift, she actually gives me her number." He let out a frustrated breath. "I'm sure the last thing she wants is a fancy dinner. I just want to show her I’m more than just a walking ATM.”

Jake raised an eyebrow and took a sip of the coffee Jay had bought him. He thought for a moment, humming softly before snapping his fingers, a grin spreading across his face.

“Why not just go for one of those cheesy dates you see in dramas? Like... go to an arcade, or the library. Didn’t you say she reads on her breaks?”

Jay’s eyes widened, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was jumping over the table to give Jake a bear hug, sending some of his files tumbling to the ground. “You’re a genius! Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that?”

Jake laughed, nearly choking on his coffee as Jay squeezed him tighter, clearly a bit too eager. “Alright, alright, take it easy, dude,” he said, pushing Jay off with a chuckle. "You shouldn't keep her waiting too long, otherwise she might think you're nothing but a flirt."

He nodded, pacing around Jake's office with a barely contained smile.

“Okay, okay,” Jay muttered to himself, more to calm the flurry of thoughts racing through his mind. “Arcade, library... maybe we can grab ice cream after? No, that’s too casual—focus, Jay, focus.” He turned to Jake, who was watching him with an amused expression. “I need to make this perfect. What if she thinks I’m being too cheesy? Or, worse, that I’m doing it because I can’t afford the usual expensive stuff?”

Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Dude, you’re overthinking this. Just be yourself—that’s the whole point. She already gave you her number without all the flash. You think she wants some over-the-top, lavish date? Just keep it simple, keep it fun, and she’ll love it. Trust me.”

Jay’s heart seemed to slow down as Jake’s words sank in. For the first time, he felt a little less frantic, a little more sure of himself. “Yeah... you’re right. Alright, arcade it is.”

He grabbed his phone, already starting to search for the closest arcade, his fingers typing faster than his mind could catch up. “I’m gonna make this work,” he muttered to himself with determination, his earlier anxiety melting into a sense of purpose.

Before he could register it, he hit send on the message asking you out to a casual arcade date, with hopes of a small totally not fancy lunch at the restaurant nearby.

The delivered turned to read in a matter of minutes, followed by you agreeing... with a heart emoji.

Jay passed out on the spot.

Jake had barged into his room a few hours ago, quickly admonishing Jay as he eyed his collection of suits and dress shirts to select an outfit for the date.

"What part of 'casual date' does your rich-boy brain not comprehend?" Jake groaned with an exaggerated sigh, yanking Jay’s crisply ironed clothing from the rack and shoving it into his closet. He sifted through Jay’s selection of sweaters and t-shirts, throwing one of the more laid-back options at him.

Now Jay stood in front of the arcade, dressed in a plain white tee, green cargos, and a grey sweatshirt loosely tied around his neck. His sneaker-bound feet tapped restlessly against the pavement, eyes glued to his phone as he reread your text from five minutes ago saying you were on your way.

What if you backed out? What if you thought he was too much of a joke? Too flashy? His stomach churned with anxiety, but he quickly squashed the thoughts down, trying to steady his racing pulse. No, you’re coming. You’re not ghosting me.

He scanned the area, looking for that familiar figure, the one who made his palms clammy and his heart race whenever she smiled.

Then he heard it: his name, spoken with your soft voice, followed by the faintest giggle. His head whipped around, and his jaw nearly hit the ground when he saw you.

Jay's breath hitched in his chest as he took in your appearance. There was something about seeing you outside of the confines of the café, without the apron and the hurried bustle of coffee orders, that made his heart beat harder. You looked so effortlessly perfect—like you belonged in an entirely different world. Your loose braid framed your face just enough to accentuate the soft curve of your jaw, and the way the long skirt fluttered around your legs made you seem almost untouchable, like a scene from a movie.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until you stepped closer, your giggle causing him to snap back to reality.

"Jay? Earth to Jay," you teased, the playful smile on your lips only making his heart race even more.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck. He had to stop doing this—acting like a nervous schoolboy every time you were near. "You look... wow. I mean, you look great. Not that you don't always look great, but—"

You laughed, cutting him off before he could make things worse. "Relax, Jay. It’s just a casual date, right?"

A wave of relief washed over him, but the anxiety was still there, lurking beneath the surface. “Right. Casual. Uh, so—" He gestured awkwardly toward the arcade behind him, trying to shake off the nervous energy, "Let's go?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his nervousness. "You sure you're ready to take me on?" you teased, a playful edge in your voice that made his heart beat just a little faster.

Jay shot you a grin, trying to mask the nerves that threatened to spill over. "Oh, I'm more than ready." He motioned for you to follow as he led the way into the arcade, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished floor.

Inside, the sound of flashing lights and game machines filled the air, but Jay's focus was completely on you. Your laugh echoed in his ears, making everything else fade into the background. This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to go—he had imagined something more polished, more "Jay," but standing here, with you by his side, felt far more real than anything else ever had.

He gestured to a nearby claw machine, his nervous energy still present, but slowly starting to fade. “Alright," he said, trying to sound confident. "These machines are completely rigged, but the first person to get one in three tries gets a wish. Fair warning, though—I’m a master at cheating the system."

You smirked, unfazed by his challenge. "If I get it on the first try, I win." He scoffed at your brazen attitude, but agreed nonetheless.

Moving towards the claw machine, you pushed in a few coins, cracking your knuckles before fiddling with the controls. In no time, the claws were enclosed on your target—a small brown teddy bear with a tiny bow tied around its neck. The claw gripped it perfectly and dropped it into the bin. You squealed, your excitement bubbling over as you rushed to pick up your prize. Holding it close to your chest, you beamed at Jay, the playful victory shining in your eyes.

Jay blinked, his jaw slightly dropping as he stared at the teddy bear in your hands. “You actually got it,” he said, incredulous but impressed. “Okay, okay, you win this round.”

You grinned, relishing the moment. “Told you I was good.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jay shook his head. “I guess I’ve been outmatched.” But the smirk on his face told you he was anything but disappointed. "Come one, let's try something else."

The day stretched on as the two of you moved from game to game, the playful banter between you flowing more easily with each passing minute. For once, Jay wasn’t thinking about his wealth, his status, or the expectations that weighed him down. He was just here, with you, and it felt more genuine than anything he’d ever experienced before.

You were even more refreshed by his attitude than he was. To think this was the same guy you'd mistaken as selfish and cocky, often mocking him to your friends whenever they would call out your rejection to his advances. The giggly Jay, the Jay with his lopsided smile, the Jay that had ice cream trickling down the corner of his mouth was no where near what you had imagined. And you could honestly get used to it.

"Oh, you cannot be serious," Jay groaned, wincing at the picture of him mid-blink with a derpy smile. You couldn’t help but laugh, staring at the photo strip you had just received from the booth. His eyes were half-closed, his grin more goofy than anything, and the next frame didn’t fare much better, showing him with his mouth wide open, mid-laugh.

You were laughing so hard, your shoulders shaking with amusement. "Oh, this is gold," you teased, holding the photos up between you. "This one's going straight to my wall."

Jay groaned in mock embarrassment but couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “You’re evil. You’ve got to promise me you’ll never show anyone these. I’ll never live it down.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, “they might make a good conversation starter." You winked, slipping the strip into your pocket. “Besides, they’re kind of cute.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, a rare vulnerability flashing through his usual confident demeanor. "You're lucky I like you," he muttered, but the soft smile he wore said otherwise.

You nudged him playfully as you both continued walking toward the exit. "Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one getting embarrassed today."

Jay shot you a look of mock betrayal. "You were the one who dragged me into that booth, remember?"

“I know,” you said, grinning up at him. “But look at the fun we had.”

Jay glanced at you for a moment, his usual charm making a reappearance. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right.” He took a deep breath and gave you a more sincere smile. “Thanks, by the way. For giving me a chance, coming out with me."

You returned his smile, feeling your heart warm at the sincerity in his voice. "You know why I said yes?"

Jay raised a brow, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

"I thought you were a bit stuck up for a second, I won't lie. I thought you were one of those rich boys that think they can buy their way through everything, that girls are only worth as much as expensive purses and extravagant dinners. But when you came to the cafe last time empty handed, and asked for my number so shy, i thought there was more to you than that."

Jay’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of your words settling in. He hadn’t realized just how much of that “rich boy” reputation had stuck to him until now. It stung a little, but hearing you acknowledge the change—it made him want to prove you right.

“I didn’t mean to come off that way,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I just... I’ve always known how to use what I have to get what I want. But with you, I felt like I needed to do something different.”

You tilted your head, the corner of your lips lifting in a small, thoughtful smile. “I’m glad you did. It’s nice seeing the real you.”

Jay chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed by the honesty. "Well, I’m still trying to figure that out." He looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes, trying to shift the mood back. “So, what do you say we go out for lunch? I know a place—nothing fancy, promise—but I owe you a proper date.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, moving to walk out of the exit before stopping and turning back to him.

"Can I use my wish?"

Jay blinked, slowly nodding at you. "Of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grinned, stepping onto your toes to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go on another date. This time, it’s on me.”

Jay’s mouth fell open and he felt the heat consuming his body, creeping up his neck and spreading across his face. Oh he could die a happy man right now. He blinked at you, rendered completely speechless.

You giggled, enjoying the way he seemed to freeze, before you pulled him by the hand, guiding him out the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

210125 © blindmortal 2025. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

[enemiestolovershoe]

Warmth and Care

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah takes care of reader while she‘s on her period

Words: 885

Warnings: Period and Cramps

A/N: Another version of this was requested but I felt like writing a second version just with Noah and Reader. But click here to read the other Version.

The soft glow of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Normally, you loved mornings like this—warm, serene, and quiet. But today was different. You lay curled up on your side, buried beneath a pile of blankets, clutching your stomach as a familiar, dull ache radiated from your abdomen. You groaned softly, shifting to try and find a position that didn’t make you want to cry.

You heard the faint rustling of movement outside the bedroom door, followed by the quiet click of it opening. “Babe?” Noah’s voice, warm and slightly raspy from sleep, reached you. You didn’t look up, too focused on managing the pain in your belly.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the tremor in your voice gave you away.

Noah crossed the room quickly, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes filled with concern as they scanned your face. “What’s going on?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Cramps,” you admitted weakly, closing your eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You look miserable,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “What can I do? Do you need medicine? A heating pad? Food?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight of him. His hair was a mess of soft waves, his hoodie slightly rumpled, and his brow furrowed in concern. “I just need to rest,” you murmured. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Noah didn’t move, his hand still gently stroking your hair. “Fussing is kind of my thing, you know,” he said with a small smile. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest, he was up and out of the room. You heard the faint sounds of him moving around in the kitchen—cabinet doors opening and closing, the clink of mugs, the hum of the microwave. Curiosity tugged at you, but the effort to move felt like too much.

A few minutes later, Noah returned, balancing a tray in his hands. “Room service,” he announced softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

“What’s all this?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Tea,” he said, handing you a steaming mug of chamomile. “I added honey because I think that’s supposed to help with cramps or something. And I brought you some toast in case you’re hungry.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, taking a careful sip of the tea.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “If you’re hurting, I’m not just gonna sit here and do nothing.”

As you sipped your tea, Noah held up a heating pad he’d unearthed from the bathroom. “Want me to heat this up for you?”

“Yes, please,” you said gratefully.

While he handled the heating pad, he kept glancing back at you. “Do you want to watch something? I can set up Netflix. Or we could do one of those mindless true crime shows you like.”

You chuckled, touched by his willingness to cater to your every whim. “I’m good with whatever,” you said, your voice still soft but more relaxed now.

When he returned, the heating pad was warm and ready. Noah carefully tucked it under the blanket, adjusting it until it was snug against your stomach. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“Much better,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and grabbed the remote. “Okay, rom-com or murder mystery?”

“Rom-com,” you said with a grin. “But you hate those.”

“I’ll survive,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Besides, I’m here to make you feel better, not myself.”

The next hour passed in cozy bliss. Noah sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, occasionally making sarcastic comments about the movie’s cheesy plotline. You laughed weakly at his remarks, grateful for the distraction from the lingering cramps.

At some point, Noah got up and returned with more snacks and a bottle of water. He handed them to you without a word, sitting back down and pulling you close again. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles as the movie played on.

When the credits finally rolled, you turned to him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you murmured, looking up at him.

“For what?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“For taking care of me. For making me laugh. For being the best boyfriend ever,” you said, your voice warm with sincerity.

Noah smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Always,” he said softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

He stretched out beside you, pulling you into his arms so you were nestled against his chest. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body eased the tension that had been gripping you all morning. As his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, you felt the pain and discomfort melting away, replaced by the overwhelming comfort of being loved.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that no matter how bad the cramps got, you’d always have Noah to make it better.

Taglist: @courta13

[assjuice4ever]

Young justice Jason x reader

(inspired to the Winter Soldier)

You and Red Hood never talked. You weren't even sure if he was able to talk. And yet, you knew him better than everybody else in the shithole you two were in.

You knew how he preferred guns more than swords, but swords were more easy to get. How he liked to read and listen to rock music while in an airplane or helicopter to pass the time. How he liked to drink a beer after a mission and how he grunted every single time he disliked something. May it be the snow too high, the sands getting in his boots or the enemy screaming with an acute voice.

You knew he smelled like cigarettes and he sneaked them up someway even if it was a big no and how his steps sounded when he wasn't trying to hide them.

And you knew how he looked under the mask, a phantom of scars adorning his face, crumpled when he smiled, especially when you offered the beer, because he didn't feel like pocketing some loser at the bar.

Red Hood was your partner for years and you hated how you didn't know the sound of his laugh, how he became taller than you, how much he looked like a homeless boozer whenever he didn't do his beard. You hated how you didn't know his name, you didn't know yours too. Yet, not knowing his was worse. And worst of all, you hated how much you two were alike.

Whenever you got something about your memory, a fleeting feeling that something was back, that you were having a déjà vu, that you weren't supposed to be there but they trapped you, they sat you on a chair and zapped your brain. Making you forget about whatever was your life before Red Hood, the list of names you had to kill, and the blood on your hands. You were something else before. You didn't know what but you were.

Red Hood didn't have his brain zapped like you, he just seemed to forget. Red Hood wasn't a metahuman like you. But he was the only other one that was trained and stuck with a list of names. Men to kill. Objectives. And there was nothing in either of your lives other than the missions.

Until one time when you two were on a mission and you heard him at night, you two in the middle of the woods, snow so high that your waist was nearly covered, keeping watch until the signal to go inside the base under the mountain.

-Grayson. - It was a gurgle. The sound of a man that never spoke before. And he repeated and you saw something different in the way he gripped his katana, as if it was a lifeline. With a desperation you didn't know he could have. You didn't know Red Hood at all, and the fact that you were the person that knew him best was pretty sad.

In some things, you two weren't alike at all. You didn't have anything to grip onto. The memories of your past life something that was easy to let go of.

-Who is Grayson? - You asked but Red Hood didn't answer. He never answered back even if you talked enough for both of you at times.

He just repeated the name to you as if you could give him an answer. You couldn't.

That night you two carried on with the mission.

The night you made him run away it was the first time you saw his eyes and for the first time you decided it wasn't a good thing to forget. His eyes were green like the sea, full of confusion and fear.

-I'm gonna keep them here. You go. -

He just nodded before running, jumping on a boat to get as far away as possible from that island. And you stayed there, a smile on your lips even if you knew you were gonna be on the run from that day on. Ra's al Ghoul didn't take kindly to betrayers and people that used his personal green pit. But you weren't going to forget anything this time.

[crescenthistory]

hi carina!! happy 2k!!🥳 hope to see the day you reach 10k :D

i would like to ask if you could argue for prompt 44 from list a with our favorite boy regulus black?

i imagine a fluffy prompt with this, but write whatever you please. i know i'm gonna love it anyway 💕

~🍓

hi my angel!! thank you sm, both for your love and the great request<33 proud to say i've finally managed to write something short and sweet for once

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 44 "jasmine bath salts" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: non-sexual and non-descriptive nudity, vague references to regulus' drama, sickening fluff, living together

wc: 844

You smelled the jasmine before anything else when you stepped foot into your flat.

A wide smile began to bloom on your face as you locked the door and began to toe off your shoes, neck already straining to see if you could catch a glimpse of your black-haired boy in the hallway. Work had dragged on today, and in your quick phone call to Regulus to warn him you would be home later than expected, he had said to take your time, that he was ready to greet you whenever.

You presumed it was this greeting he was orchestrating in the bathroom. The sound of running water and low jazz music streamed out through the cracked open door, along with the marvellous smell.

As you made your way through your narrow flat, you tried your best not to be quiet, so he wouldn’t be startled by your sudden presence. You made quick work of putting your outerwear and bag in all the correct places, taking appreciative note of how clean the flat was. Regulus was far from a messy person, but it was clear he had gone the extra mile for you today; even the fairy lights had undergone a battery change, shining significantly brighter than when you left this morning.

When you reached the door to the bathroom, slightly ajar and with steam rolling through, you carefully pushed it open and leaned against the doorway.

There, in all his domestic glory, sat Regulus on the side of your nearly filled bathtub, whisking up some white bubbles. His usual black dress shirt had been discarded for one of his softer, oversized t-shirts – still black, mind you – and his hair was pulled back on each side with some of your hair clips.

“What’s all this for?” you asked, somewhat breathlessly and with a look in your eyes you were certain was positively smitten.

Despite your efforts, Regulus still jumped a little at the sound of the creaking door and your voice, but it was nowhere near how bad it was when you first moved in together; he was getting used to you. The thought itself made your smile stretch even further.

Your smile was quickly reflected back at you on his face, lips tugging as he got up from his knees and dried the bubbles off his hand with a plush towel. “Hi, amour.” He greeted you verbally seconds before he stepped close to greet you physically – his skin was damp from his time spent in the bathroom and he was more soft and pliant than ever. 

You breathed him in and pulled away to gaze in his grey irises. “It smells heavenly in here.”

“Good. How else is an angel like you supposed to feel at home?”

His smile turned sheepish even before he made the joke, and you swatted at him harmlessly as laughter bubbled in your throat. 

“You’re too sweet to me,” you murmured, pressing butterfly kisses around his chin and jaw. You were undeterred as he vehemently shook his head.

“Not sweet enough,” he corrected, voice low and concerningly close to displeased with himself. He carried on before you had time to disagree, but you wrapped your arms around him nonetheless. “I missed you today. Let’s never schedule my days off for when you have to work again.”

You pulled him in even tighter at that for an overdue hug, nuzzling your nose into his t-shirt that you were increasingly certain he had stolen from Sirius. “Noted, never again. Is that why you’ve drawn us a bath?”

“Us?” He pulled his head back comically so he could look down at you. “Amour, you’re the one who's been working on your feet all day. You should relax in the bath while I fetch us dinner.”

Now that was just silly. You said as much as you pulled the bathroom door shut behind you and began to discard your clothes for the day, basking in the soft lights from the many candles he had lit around the tub. “Dinner can wait, my love. I’ve missed you too, you know. Take the bath with me.”

Regulus regarded you with a joking expression that was supposed to convey apprehension – but you saw how fiercely the corners of his lips were twitching into a lovesick smile. You walked up to him and pushed your hands up under his t-shirt, holding him close as you encouraged him to get changed. “Relax with me, baby,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “You deserve it.”

“You deserve it.” There was no real fight left in his voice as he began to help you in your endeavours.

A small laugh escaped you as you gave him a sideway glance. “Alright then, I deserve it. And I relax best with you. Not to mention, these are your favourite bath salts.”

Regulus took your hand to help you descend into the bathtub, warm water and steam engulfing you like it was welcoming you home. He gazed down at you with nothing short of adoration and worship. “Hard to argue with that logic.”

“Then don’t.”

Safe to say, he didn’t.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

[Rach: Why didn’t you get his number?] Iris: The entire conversation was five minutes. He was gone before I even thought about it. Besides, I spent half the time talking to his dog. He probably thought I was a weirdo.

[Rach: If he’s a dog person, he probably loved it.] Iris: Who knows. [Rach: Do you think you’ll run into him again?] Iris: Doubt it. I’m here almost every morning and I’ve never seen him before. He was just in the area for the vet clinic.

[Rach: Hmm. So, in theory, if you do see him again, it’s because he’s hoping to run into you.] Iris: [scoffs] Yeah, I’m not gonna hold my breath.

Iris: Shit. [Rach: What?] Iris: He’s here. What do I do? [Rach: Um, hang up the phone and go say hi?] Iris: Right. Okay. I’ll see you soon. Bye.

Iris: Hi. Ezra: Good morning. Iris: How’d Milo’s appointment go? Ezra: Great, he got a clean bill of health. More importantly, you were right about the biscuits, he was very happy. Iris: [smiles] Good.

Barista: What can I get for you? Ezra: An oat milk latte… and whatever she’s having. Iris: Oh, um, a macchiato.

Iris: Why did you do that? Ezra: It’s just a thing I do sometimes, buying coffee for the person behind me. Iris: [skeptical] Why?

Ezra: [shrugs] To brighten their day, and hope they’ll pay it forward. Iris: Making the world a better place, one coffee at a time? Ezra: Something like that.

Iris: You should be careful about that. Ezra: How so? Iris: You might give someone the wrong impression. You don’t want them thinking you’re interested if you’re not.

Ezra: I’ll admit, I am usually more discreet about it than I was today. Iris: Oh? Ezra: I have some time before I have to be to work. I was thinking about grabbing a table outside and enjoying the nice weather if you’d like to join me. Iris: Um… sure. I have about thirty minutes to spare. Ezra: I’ll take it.

--

Iris: So, what do you do, Ezra? Ezra: I’m a teacher. Brindleton Bay High. Iris: [sarcastic] Go Huskies. Ezra: [laughs] Right.

Iris: Did you go to that school? Ezra: No, I just moved here a few years ago. Iris: That’s good. I don’t trust people who choose to work at the same high school they went to. Ezra: Why’s that?

Iris: Too many memories. Seems you’d be haunted by the past every time you walked down the halls. Personally, I don’t think I could ever step foot in that building again. Ezra: You were a husky? Iris: [nods] Born and raised in the Bay. Ezra: There are worse places.   Iris: I suppose.

Iris: What do you teach? Ezra: Biology. Tenth Grade. Iris: Yikes. Must be awful. Ezra: You’d think so, but I love it.  

Iris: Hm. Tell me, do you still make kids dissect frogs? Ezra: Every year. Iris: Horrific. Ezra: Let me guess, you were one of the students that refused, taking a moral stance?

Iris: Oh, I didn’t just refuse, I organized a protest. Got half the school to walk out. We were on the local news. Ezra: You were quite the activist. Iris: Hardly. I was just bored. And I was trying to get the attention of a boy I liked who happened to be vegan.

Ezra: Did it work? Iris: It did, for a while. Ezra: What happened? Iris: He caught me devouring a hamburger at the mall with my friends. Turns out I’m not cut out for the long con.

Ezra: I’d say that’s a good thing. Unless you’ve improved since then? Iris: No. I gave up on lying. It’s exhausting. If anything, I’m too honest. People don’t like it, but [shrugs]. Ezra: I like honesty. Iris: Me too.

Iris: Shit, you get oat milk in your latte. You’re not vegan, are you? Ezra: No, just lactose intolerant. Iris: Thank god. Not that I’d care if you were, but I have a habit of saying the wrong thing and I worried I’d embarrassed myself. Ezra: No no, not at all.

Iris: Good. Well, um, thank you for the coffee. I have to go or I’m going to be late for work. Ezra: Wait, you didn’t tell me what you do. Iris: I guess we’ll have to do this again tomorrow then. That is, unless you’re secretly married, in which case, I’m not interested in some weird coffeeshop affair. Ezra: [laughs] No. Divorced, and very much single.

Iris: In that case, if tomorrow goes well, I might let you ask me out on a proper date.

[leesleelee]

The babysitters Chronicles.

Steve Harrington x male! reader

After the events of season 3, Hawkins has settled into a quieter routine. However, the threat of the Upside Down lingers in the background. You, Lucas' cousin has moved back to Hawkins to help out. While helping out, you meet someone who ends up being your teammate.

CW: Mild Language, emotional vulnerability, romantic themes, mention of past trauma, light angst.

Word Count: 6,863

The babysitters.

We were under the same roof.

The summer had passed, but Hawkins was still settling back into some semblance of normalcy.

At least, that’s what your parents told you as they sent you off to stay with your cousin Lucas and his family.

After everything that had happened, it was clear you were needed, even if you weren’t sure what your role would be in all this.

Your first day in Hawkins was quiet, too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you feel like something important was still lingering in the air. You hadn’t been around Lucas, Mike, Max, Dustin, or the others much before, so you didn’t know what to expect.

All you knew was that things had been... complicated. And now, you were supposed to help take care of the kids. Easier said than done.

The house you found yourself in was familiar, Lucas’ family home, but it felt different now, like the walls carried secrets you weren’t privy to yet.

The laughter and chaos coming from the living room was a clear indication that life here, though quieter, was anything but normal. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to join the group, and whether they’d even care that you’d just moved into town.

The first thing you noticed was the noise. It wasn’t loud, not exactly, but it was constant.

Mike and Dustin were arguing over some ridiculous game on the floor, while Lucas and Max were half-heartedly attempting to referee.

The energy was almost too much; too many moving parts, too many voices, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Just... overwhelming.

Then, your eyes landed on him.

Steve Harrington, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His presence seemed to fill the room, not with the usual ‘king of the school’ bravado you’d heard about, but with something warmer;

more grounded.

He was part of the chaos, but he was also a quiet anchor in the middle of it. His eyes flickered over to you as you stood there, unsure of how to make an entrance, but instead of the usual dismissive glance or curiosity, there was a softness in his gaze.

“Hey,” he greeted you, his voice surprisingly calm amidst the rowdy chatter. He offered a small smile, the kind that didn’t try too hard but was somehow inviting.

“You must be the new guy.”

You nodded, not sure if that was the right thing to do.

“Yeah, that’d be me. I’m... staying with Lucas for a while.”

Steve’s expression softened, his arms uncrossing as he straightened up.

“I figured as much. Everyone’s talking about you.” There was no teasing or judgment in his tone, just a genuine acknowledgment.

You glanced at Lucas, who was still in the middle of breaking up another argument between Mike and Dustin, and then back to Steve.

“How do you... handle all of this?”

You asked, half-laughing at the mess in front of you. The kids were all loud, taking sides, making plans for whatever trouble they were about to get into.

Steve looked over at them with a small shake of his head, like he was used to it by now. “It’s... a work in progress,” he said slowly, as if carefully choosing his words.

“You get used to the noise. And the drama.” His smile grew slightly, and you could see how he effortlessly slid into his role as the unspoken leader of the group. “You’ve got your hands full now, though. This lot knows how to make a mess.”

“Seems like they’re good at it,” you commented, your voice dry, feeling the weight of the situation.

You didn’t know how you were supposed to fit in, how you were supposed to navigate being the new person here.

Steve gave you a knowing look. “Don’t worry. We all get thrown into the deep end at some point. You’ll be fine.”

His tone was light, but there was something reassuring about it, as if he genuinely meant it.

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just watched as he moved across the room, stepping into the chaos like it was second nature to him.

He bent down to break up a new fight between Max and Dustin, using his usual calm, but firm, voice to smooth things over. There was a practiced ease to his movements, like he had done this a hundred times before.

You stood there for a moment, observing him. He was different from what you expected, much more patient and steady.

You’d heard the stories, Steve Harrington, the former high school king, the one who had been through his own share of messes, but somehow ended up here, looking out for the kids.

He was more than just the nickname.

It wasn’t until you saw him glance back at you, that small, amused smile tugging at his lips, that you realized you’d been watching him a little too intently.

He raised an eyebrow, catching your gaze, and for a second, there was an unspoken understanding between you two, something fleeting but real.

“Okay, new guy,” he said, his voice a little more relaxed, like he was letting down some of his own walls.

“Want to team up? We can tag team this babysitting gig. Trust me, it works better when there are two of us.”

You didn’t know what made you agree, but there was something about Steve, something that made it easy to fall into a rhythm with him, even if it was just a simple offer to help manage the chaos.

You nodded, stepping a little further into the room.

“Sure,” you said, your voice quieter now, more certain. “I can give it a shot.”

For a moment, it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

With Steve, there was a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, this would be easier than you thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, helping to take care of the kids and settling into Hawkins.

And maybe, just maybe, there was more to Steve than the stories you’d heard.

As the two of you began working together to keep the kids from escalating into more trouble, you couldn’t help but notice the small gestures, the way Steve made sure you were comfortable and involved, offering quiet smiles and half-jokes when the kids got too rowdy.

It was nothing big, nothing overt, but in that moment, you realized something, this wasn’t just babysitting.

This was the beginning of something new.

And even if it was just a small spark, you couldn’t help but feel like it had the potential to grow into something more.

---

The moment you agreed to help, you immediately regretted it.

Max had suggested they all play a game of Dungeons & Dragons, but somehow it devolved into an all-out war of opinions, everyone trying to one-up each other with the most ridiculous rules.

Dustin and Mike were arguing over whose character was the most powerful, while Lucas tried to keep them in check, but his attention was split.

Max, naturally, refused to be part of it at all, folding her arms and glaring at the lot of them as if she were too cool for the entire situation.

And in the middle of it all, Steve was... well, Steve.

His usual nonchalant attitude made him seem like this was just another ordinary Saturday for him.

He leaned back against the couch, one hand lazily draped over the backrest, while the other played with a half-empty bag of chips.

You glanced at Steve, silently pleading for help. He caught your eye, his lips twitching in amusement, but he didn’t offer any immediate assistance.

Instead, he was waiting for you to jump into the fray. You took a deep breath and stepped into the chaos, walking over to where Lucas and Mike were practically nose-to-nose, arguing over whether a roll of the dice was “totally unfair.”

“Hey!” you called out, a little louder than you intended. All heads turned toward you.

Steve’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, something almost like pride flickering behind his eyes as you took charge of the situation.

“Okay, seriously?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re gonna be here all day if you keep fighting like this. What’s the point of a game if you don’t even know the rules?”

Lucas shot you a grateful look.

“See? I told them it’s about having fun, not trying to win every single time.”

“I don’t always try to win,” Dustin protested, looking offended.

He glanced at Mike.

“But Mike’s character is completely OP. I mean, who even lets a wizard have that many spells?”

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t playing right!” Mike shot back, completely missing the point.

Steve leaned in, clearly enjoying the drama. “Boys, boys,” he said, with a theatrical sigh.

“How about we agree that everyone can have their turn to be the biggest nerd, but nobody gets to hog the spotlight? Deal?”

You could practically hear the collective groan of annoyance from the kids, but it did the trick, at least for the moment.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Dustin grumbled, sitting down with a huff.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Just as things seemed to calm down, a high-pitched shriek cut through the air.

Max had decided she was done with the game and was now attempting to sneak into the kitchen to steal the last of the snacks.

“Hey! Max! Get back here!” Steve shouted, moving with surprising speed as he jumped off the couch and chased after her.

You didn’t hesitate to follow, knowing the chaos would only escalate if someone didn’t stop it.

You found Steve cornering Max at the kitchen table, a small bag of pretzels clutched in her hands like she was about to make a getaway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steve asked, his voice amused but firm, his hands on his hips as if this were a routine.

Max rolled her eyes dramatically, holding the snacks out in front of her like they were a trophy.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Getting a snack. You guys have been hogging everything.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone eating pretzels since last week, Max,” you said, crossing your arms.

“You just want to be dramatic, huh?”

Max flashed you a smirk. “If you’re gonna let Steve win, that’s your problem.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender.

“I’m just here to keep the peace, not to pick sides.”

Steve leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a secret.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, his words only meant for you.

“She gets really feisty when she’s hungry.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Noted.”

Max huffed, crossing her arms, but Steve wasn’t letting her off that easily. He took the bag from her hands with a dramatic flourish, giving her a look of mock disappointment.

“You can have some, but you have to promise to play nice with the others. No more stealing snacks.”

Max rolled her eyes again but grudgingly nodded.

“Fine, whatever.”

With the snack crisis temporarily averted, you and Steve returned to the living room, but not before you heard Dustin and Mike get into another heated discussion about which character was the best choice for their next round.

You exchanged a glance with Steve, who was clearly done with the constant back-and-forth.

“You wanna call it quits for the day?” Steve asked, leaning toward you with a grin.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I think that’s probably a good idea. They’re never going to agree on anything if we don’t step in.”

Just as you were about to suggest a break, the sound of crashing plastic echoed from the corner of the room.

You and Steve turned just in time to see Lucas trip over his own shoelaces, sending a bowl of popcorn flying across the floor.

The kids burst into laughter, and even Steve couldn't hold back a chuckle.

You couldn’t help but smile at the mess of it all, and for a moment, it felt like you were just another part of the family.

“You know,” you said, shaking your head,

“I can’t tell if I’m actually helping or just making things worse.”

Steve shrugged, his grin widening.

“Sometimes it’s about surviving the chaos, not solving it. Trust me, you’re doing fine.”

As the room settled into a familiar pattern of laughter and minor bickering, you realized that, despite the madness, it wasn’t so bad.

Steve had a way of making the chaos feel manageable, and it felt like, maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this.

---

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room.

The chaos of the afternoon had finally settled into a comfortable lull, and the kids had either scattered to their respective corners of the house or fallen into a quiet, tired stupor.

The game was over, the snacks were long gone, and the living room now felt almost eerily calm in comparison to the frenzy that had come before.

You leaned back against the couch, the soft hum of a television in the background barely audible.

Max was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, her headphones in, while Dustin and Mike were attempting some quiet video game battle in the corner.

Even Lucas had found a moment to relax, reading through a comic book by the window.

Steve, on the other hand, had found a quiet corner near the window, arms loosely crossed as he gazed outside at the fading light.

His usual energy had settled, his expression softer now than it had been all day.

You watched him for a moment, the way the light caught the edges of his hair, how his gaze seemed far away, lost in thought.

It was the first time today that he didn’t seem like he was on high alert, ready to jump in and referee the next round of bickering. He looked... peaceful.

For a moment, you considered just letting him be.

But something about the quiet pulled you closer, a small voice telling you to take a chance, to say something.

“Hey,”

you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

It felt strange to break the silence, but you did anyway. “You doing okay?”

Steve shifted slightly, as though your voice had brought him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head slightly, catching your eye. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter.

“I’m good,” he replied, his voice low and calm.

“Just... needed a second. Been a long day, huh?”

You nodded slowly, relaxing into the cushions as you considered his words.

“Yeah, it’s definitely been... eventful. But, uh, it’s not so bad. You’ve handled it pretty well.”

Steve let out a small, almost embarrassed chuckle.

“I don’t know about that. Half the time I’m just winging it.” His gaze flickered toward the kids again, watching them interact with a small, fond smile on his face.

“But, I guess it works out. You’re not doing too bad yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me? I feel like I’m just getting dragged along.”

“That’s part of the fun, right?” Steve said with a shrug, still grinning a little. His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth there, too, a genuine appreciation.

“But seriously, you’ve got a good way with them. They listen to you, which is more than I can say for myself sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, shifting so you were sitting a little closer to him.

“I guess we make a good team, huh?”

Steve glanced at you again, his smile widening just a little. “Yeah, I think we do.”

His voice was quieter this time, more thoughtful. “It’s kind of nice, y’know, having someone to share all this with. Feels a little less crazy when it’s not just me trying to keep everything in check.”

You didn’t say anything right away, letting the words sink in.

You had noticed, of course, how Steve had a way of keeping things under control—of bringing a sense of calm to the madness.

But hearing him say it, hearing the vulnerability in his voice as he admitted he wasn’t always sure he had it all together, made you feel... closer to him, in a way.

Like you weren’t just playing along in his world, but that you were starting to share it.

“You know,” you said quietly, looking out the window where the last remnants of the sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, “I didn’t think it’d be like this when I moved here. All the noise, all the... chaos.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “But it’s kind of nice. In a weird way.”

Steve followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked out at the fading light.

“Yeah. It’s nice. I think the chaos makes the quiet moments worth it.” He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back another smile.

“And... I think the quiet moments make the chaos feel a little less crazy, too.”

You smiled at his words, the weight of the afternoon finally lifting off your shoulders.

The world outside seemed a little calmer now, the house filled with the soft sounds of the kids in their own little worlds, and Steve sitting next to you, as relaxed as you’d ever seen him.

There was something comforting about this silence, the way everything felt in sync for once.

You didn’t feel the need to fill the air with conversation or distractions. Instead, you could just enjoy the moment for what it was, a brief, quiet pause in the midst of the whirlwind that had been your day.

Steve’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you met his eyes, a soft, unspoken understanding passing between you.

Maybe it was the way the evening light softened everything, or the way his presence just felt right, but in that quiet moment, you couldn’t deny it: being here with him felt... good.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve said, the words simple but meaningful, his voice steady and warm.

You nodded, a quiet smile curving on your lips. “Me too.”

---

The days after the babysitting adventure had settled into something like routine.

The kids were still as chaotic as ever, but with each passing day, you found yourself easing into the role.

There were moments of laughter, moments of frustration, and, more often than not, you found yourself alongside Steve, trying to juggle the madness.

It wasn’t so much the kids that had started to feel comfortable, it was being around Steve.

Somewhere between handling arguments over video games, calming Max down after she’d stormed off in a huff, and Steve always having just the right words to make everyone laugh or take a break, you’d started to notice something.

The way Steve looked at you wasn’t quite like it had been at first. It was subtle at first,an extra beat of silence when your eyes met, the small, easy smiles that didn’t feel forced, like they used to.

There was an ease in his presence now, a comfortable kind of quiet that you found yourself craving when the noise of the group became too overwhelming.

Today was no different. The kids were in the backyard, playing basketball, and you’d volunteered to stay inside with Steve, mostly because the sun was just a little too hot, and you both had been the designated “guardians of peace.”

You were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a drink, while Steve was lazily washing dishes, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The rhythmic sound of water running, the occasional clink of plates, and the quiet murmurs between you two were almost soothing.

“So,” Steve said, his voice breaking the silence, “how’s school been? You surviving senior year?”

You glanced up from your drink, considering the question. “It’s been alright,” you replied, a small shrug following your words.

“I mean, it’s school. It’s nothing I can’t handle. But it’s... different, you know? Moving here after everything that happened... it’s kind of thrown me off. I feel like I’m still adjusting.”

Steve chuckled, wiping his hands dry on the dish towel.

“Yeah, I get that. Hawkins has a way of making things feel a little weird, right? Everything’s either too normal or too weird, never just... normal.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly. It’s like one minute, I’m trying to figure out how to survive high school, and the next, I’m wondering if I’ll have to deal with some weird, otherworldly creature again.”

Steve smirked, tossing the towel aside and leaning against the counter. “I’m pretty sure that’s part of the charm of this place. You never really know what’s gonna happen next. Makes life interesting, I guess.”

The way he said it made you chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like you were just... talking.

Not about anything important, not anything heavy, but just sharing a moment of lightness, of understanding. It wasn’t often that you felt that way with someone, especially after moving to a new place.

But with Steve, it was easy.

“You know,” you said after a beat, “I didn’t really expect you to be this... chill.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Chill? What, you thought I’d be some angry jock or something?”

You shrugged, trying to hide your smile. “I don’t know. It’s just—well, you’re different than what I thought you’d be.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I get that a lot. People usually think I’m all about the hair, the car, the ‘cool guy’ persona.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Guess I got that reputation, huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile, amused by his self-deprecating humor. “I mean, yeah, but there’s more to you than that.”

You paused, looking down at your drink as you thought for a moment. “It’s just... you’re not what I expected. But in a good way.”

Steve’s expression softened at your words, and for a moment, you both just stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the noise of the kids in the backyard still distant.

There was something comforting about the silence between you two, something that felt like it was slowly pulling you both closer.

Steve shifted on his feet, his gaze never leaving you as he leaned in slightly, as though choosing his words carefully.

“Well... I’m glad to hear that. Honestly, I didn’t really know what to expect from you either when you moved here.”

You looked up at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Oh yeah? What did you think I’d be like?”

He chuckled softly, his expression light.

“I don’t know, honestly. I thought you’d be like one of those people who just comes in, says ‘hi,’ and disappears. You know, all distant and stuff. But you’re... not like that at all.”

You smiled, a small, genuine smile that came naturally. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Steve’s grin was playful, but there was something more behind it. “Nah. Not bad at all.”

It was funny, how easy it felt to talk to him.

The way the conversation flowed from one moment to the next, no forced pauses, no awkwardness. It felt natural, like the both of you had always been able to share this space.

The kids outside were getting louder, the ball bouncing off the ground, a few of them laughing at some sort of inside joke, but it didn’t matter.

It felt like you and Steve were in your own little bubble, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t need to intrude.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Steve said softly, almost as an afterthought, as he turned back to the sink, his fingers absently running over the rim of a glass.

“I mean, you’ve made things... easier.”

You watched him for a moment, the words hanging in the air between you two.

He hadn’t said anything too deep, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat

You were getting used to this, getting used to him being around, getting used to the quiet moments, to how easy it felt to just be in each other’s company.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” you said, the words coming out quieter than you meant them to.

For a moment, Steve didn’t respond, but the smile he gave you was enough. It was soft, almost shy, but there was something in it that told you he felt the same way.

---

It had been a long week, the kind of week that blended together, filled with the usual mix of chaos, laughter, and quiet moments with Steve.

Every time you thought the day would settle into something predictable, there was always a curveball, whether it was Dustin’s never-ending energy, Max’s occasional storms, or the endless basketball games in the driveway.

But, despite the noise, the moments spent with Steve felt different. Lately, you’d found yourself looking forward to them more than you cared to admit.

It was late on a Friday evening, and the kids had all scattered off to their rooms, giving you and Steve the rare chance for some time to yourselves.

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night outside.

You were sitting on the couch, a book in your lap, your thoughts wandering far from the pages in front of you. You could hear Steve in the kitchen, putting away some leftovers from dinner, humming to himself absentmindedly.

The usual chatter and playful teasing had quieted down, and you realized, for the first time in a long while, that you weren’t focused on keeping things light anymore.

You weren’t just babysitting the kids or keeping the peace.

You were... drawn to Steve.

And it wasn’t just about the way he’d smile when he caught your eye, or how he’d laugh when you cracked a joke. It was the way he made you feel. Safe. Understood.

Like you were both in this together. Like this moment, this piece of life, was something worth holding onto.

Without thinking, you closed the book and set it aside, standing up and walking toward the kitchen, your steps slow but deliberate.

Steve was humming louder now, moving around the kitchen, but when you leaned against the doorframe, he paused and glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” he asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

You hesitated for a second, not entirely sure what you were about to say, but knowing that it was time to say something.

Something that had been building up in you for weeks now. Something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I don’t know,” you said, the words coming out a little quieter than you meant them to.

“I guess... I’ve been thinking.”

Steve tilted his head slightly, clearly interested, but he didn’t push. He just stood there, waiting for you to continue, his expression soft and open.

“About... us, I guess,” you continued, your heart beating a little faster now.

“About how things have been. How... I’ve been feeling. And, I just—”

You stopped yourself, taking a breath. You didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t know how to put into words what had been bubbling up inside you.

But Steve, in his usual way, seemed to sense what you were getting at. His expression softened, and he took a step closer to you, his voice gentle.

“You mean how it feels like we’ve been getting closer?” he asked, his tone teasing but sincere.

You nodded, looking up at him.

“Yeah. I didn’t think it would happen this way, but... yeah. I guess I’ve been feeling it too.”

Steve leaned against the counter, letting out a small breath as he looked down at his hands.

For a moment, you thought he might change the subject, but instead, his voice softened, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it.

“You know,” he began, “I’m not always this put-together. Like, I joke around and act like I’ve got it all figured out, but... I don’t. Not even close.”

The honesty in his voice surprised you, and you stepped closer, silently encouraging him to continue.

He glanced at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before looking away again.

“After everything that happened with... the Upside Down, losing people, and just... everything,” he said, his voice faltering slightly,

“it messed me up. I tried to be the guy who could take care of everyone, who could keep it together for the kids, but sometimes... it feels like I’m barely holding on.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words.

It wasn’t often that Steve let his guard down like this, and hearing the cracks in his usual confident exterior made you realize just how much he carried on his shoulders.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Steve continued, shaking his head with a small, self-conscious laugh.

“Maybe because you’ve been there too. You get it, in a way that not a lot of people do.”

You reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his arm.

The gesture was simple, but it seemed to ground him. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression was almost overwhelming.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” you said softly. “You don’t have to be the guy who always has it figured out. We’ve all been through a lot, and it’s okay to lean on someone else sometimes.”

Steve let out a small breath, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. I think I’m starting to figure that out. Especially with you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and the realization of what he’d just said made your heart skip a beat.

He hadn’t said it directly, but the meaning was clear. You weren’t just someone he was confiding in. You were someone he trusted, someone he wanted to keep close.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Steve said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m glad you’re here too.”

Your hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer before you stepped back, the weight of the moment settling between you. There was something undeniable in the air now, something unspoken but understood.

The connection between you two wasn’t just friendship—it was something more, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

Steve stared at your lips and cracked a smile.

---

It had been a few weeks since that quiet night in the kitchen when everything changed.

You and Steve hadn’t spoken directly about what happened, but the air between you was different now.

The small moments lingered longer, the playful touches and glances felt heavier, and the teasing banter was layered with something unspoken. Something real.

The kids, of course, hadn’t noticed anything, too caught up in their own world of campaigns, arcade games, and adolescent drama.

But you noticed. Steve noticed. And, slowly but surely, the dynamic between you two shifted into something neither of you could name just yet.

The first time it hit you was at the arcade.

It had been Max’s idea to gather everyone, and somehow, you and Steve had been roped into chaperoning.

The kids scattered the moment you arrived, racing to their favorite machines and leaving you two by the snack counter.

Steve leaned casually against the counter, sipping a Coke, his hair as perfect as ever.

You couldn’t help but smirk at how effortlessly he pulled off the whole "cool guy" look.

“You know,” you said, nudging him playfully,

“you’ve got a serious reputation to uphold. Babysitter extraordinaire, hero of Hawkins… how do you handle all the pressure?”

He laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made your chest tighten.

“It’s tough, but someone’s gotta do it,” he quipped, taking another sip. Then he glanced at you, his expression softening. “I mean, it helps having backup now.”

The way he said it, so casually but with a weight that told you he meant it, made your stomach flip.

You looked away, pretending to focus on the kids in the distance, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you.

“Backup, huh?” you replied, your voice teasing but quieter now.

“Guess that makes me your sidekick.”

Steve nudged you back, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt deliberate.

“Nah, more like my boyfriend.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, it felt like the entire arcade had gone silent.

You glanced at him, and the small, knowing smile on his face made your heart race.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you murmured, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

He shrugged, his smile widening. “Yeah. You know… someone I can count on. Someone I can... trust.”

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something big.

But before you could respond, Dustin’s voice cut through the moment, shouting for both of you to “hurry up and come see this!”

Steve chuckled, the spell between you broken but not forgotten.

“Guess duty calls,” he said, giving you a quick wink before heading toward the kids.

You followed, your chest still buzzing from the exchange.

---

The second time it happened was during a late-night drive. The kids were all asleep in the back of Steve’s car after a long day at the pool, and the quiet hum of the engine filled the silence.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, your head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered past.

Steve glanced over at you, his hands steady on the wheel.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

You turned to him, smiling softly. “Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

He nodded, his eyes flicking back to the road. “It’s been a long day.”

There was a pause, and then he added, almost hesitantly, “You know, I’ve been thinking… I like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“This,”

He said, gesturing vaguely. “The quiet. The… normal. After everything we’ve been through, it’s nice, y’know? Just driving around with you. Feels... right.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It does.”

The rest of the drive was quiet, but the air between you was charged, every glance and shared silence saying more than words ever could.

---

The third time it happened was at the Wheeler’s basement, during another one of the kids’ chaotic campaigns.

The two of you sat on the couch, watching the kids argue over strategy, your shoulders pressed together.

Steve leaned in close, pretending to whisper about the game but letting his breath tickle your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Think they’ll ever figure it out?” he teased, his voice low and warm.

“Doubt it,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade.

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken feelings between you growing harder to ignore.

Before either of you could say anything, Lucas shouted in triumph, breaking the moment.

Steve groaned dramatically, leaning back against the couch, but his hand brushed against yours as he did. Neither of you moved it.

It was moments like these, small, fleeting, but deeply significant, that defined the slow burn of your relationship.

Every shared look, every playful touch, every quiet conversation brought you closer, inch by inch, until the line between friendship and something more was barely there at all. And though neither of you had said the words yet, you both knew they were coming. It was just a matter of time.

---

The night was still, the stars scattered across the sky like someone had spilled glitter over velvet.

You and Steve were sitting on the roof of your house, a favorite spot you’d both discovered during one of the kids’ sleepovers.

The chaos of the day had finally settled, leaving behind a peaceful quiet that you’d grown to cherish in moments like these.

Steve sat beside you, legs stretched out, his hands resting on his knees as he gazed up at the stars.

He looked calm, content, but there was something in his posture, his fingers tapping absently against his leg, the way he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, that told you he had something on his mind.

“You ever think about what’s next?” he asked suddenly, his voice soft but clear in the stillness.

You turned to him, caught off guard by the question. “Next?”

“Yeah, like... after all of this. The kids, Hawkins, everything.”

He gestured vaguely to the sky, his lips quirking in a small, self-conscious smile.

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like this town is all I’ve got, y’know? Like I’ll always be Steve Harrington, babysitter extraordinaire.”

You chuckled softly, nudging him with your shoulder.

“You’re a little more than that, you know.”

He smiled at the nudge, but the vulnerability in his eyes didn’t waver.

“I don’t know. I guess I just... I want more. Something real. Something that makes me feel like... I belong.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

You felt your heart ache at the openness in his voice, the quiet longing he rarely let anyone see.

“You do belong, Steve,” you said after a moment, your voice gentle but firm. “To the kids, to this place... to me.”

The last part came out before you could stop it, but you didn’t regret it.

It was the truth, and it was time to stop dancing around it.

Steve turned to you, his eyes searching yours, and you could see the moment your words sank in.

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but instead, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean it,” you continued, your voice quieter now.

“You’re not just... some guy who keeps the kids out of trouble. You’re more than that, Steve. You’re... everything. To them, sure, but to me, too. And I don’t want you to think you’re not enough, because you are. You always have been.”

Steve blinked, his breath hitching slightly as your words settled over him.

Then, slowly, a small, almost disbelieving smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear something like that?” he asked, his voice soft, almost like he was afraid to break the moment.

You smiled back, your chest tight with emotion.

“Maybe as long as I’ve wanted to say it.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind of silence that felt full instead of empty, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours before lacing his fingers through yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like... like I finally found someone who sees me. Not just the guy who drives the kids around, or the guy who screws things up half the time. Just... me.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and without thinking, you leaned closer, your free hand resting lightly on his arm.

“I see you, Steve,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. “I’ve always seen you. And I—”

The words caught in your throat, but you didn’t need to finish them. The look in his eyes told you he already knew.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for a moment, the world felt perfectly still.

“I think I’m falling for you,”

he murmured, his voice trembling slightly but filled with sincerity.

You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I think I already have.”

The confession hung between you, weightless and freeing all at once.

Steve pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression soft but filled with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

Then, with a tenderness that made your breath catch, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was soft, unhurried, and filled with all the emotions that had been building between you for weeks. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a promise. A promise that this was real, that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

When you finally pulled back, Steve smiled at you, his cheeks flushed but his eyes shining with a happiness you’d never seen before.

“So,” he said, his voice teasing but warm, “does this mean you’re my boyfriend for real now?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you squeezed his hand. “Yeah, Harrington. I guess it does.”

And as you sat there on the roof, your hand in his, the stars shining above, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something real. Something that finally felt like home.

Thank you, Hawkins.

---

Credits: The Steve Harrington border I used was made by me, but the blue border was made by: kodaswrld!! Go and support them 🫶🏽

[wroetominter]

Overwhelm - George Clarke

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none

Fluff - my fav.

I turned on my side in bed, feeling the relief of the cold side of my pillow against my cheek. Next to me in bed George slept peacefully. There was nothing romantic happening here, simply two good friends who enjoyed each others company. I can’t say that there weren’t feelings there, at least on my end there definitely were.

I peered my eyes at my phone on the nightstand, seeing it was only five thirty in the morning. I tried falling back asleep but couldn’t get my mind to shut off. The last few month had been a whirlwind of emotions.

Deciding since sleep was not happening, I may as well get up. I slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake George. I grabbed his hoodie on his chair and pulled it over myself, smelling his cologne still lingering in the fabric. A scent I had come to find comforting.

I walked out to the living room, seeing the sun starting to creep over the horizon through the city view. I stepped outside and sat on one of the lounge chairs, pulling my legs up and hugging into them for some extra warmth and comfort.

As I sat there thinking, I began to feel filled with emotions. It wasn’t sad emotion, more so happy and overwhelmed all rolled into one. Tears freely flowed down my cheeks as my thoughts kept racing.

Torn from my thoughts by the door creaking open beside me, my head turned to the side to see who was coming outside. George stood there, his face immediately filled with concern when he took in my appearance.

“What’s wrong?” He came to sit beside me, wiping the tears from my face.

“Nothings wrong Geo, I’m sorry if I woke you.” I apologized. He shook his head.

“No no, well, kinda. I guess.” He scratched his head. “Bed felt empty and when I didn’t feel you beside me I knew something had to be wrong. Too early for you to be up.”

I sighed, looking back at him. His hand lightly rubbed my back in a soothing manner. He was too good to me sometimes. “What’s really wrong?” He pressed. He could read me like a book.

“Well, I was just sort of overwhelmed I guess. Everything I’ve ever wanted happened so quickly and I’m just really grateful I suppose. I have a job that doesn’t feel like work, I live in my favorite city in the world, I have the money to do whatever I want…” I trailed off, unsure if I wanted to break down the barriers further and admit to him that I had feelings for him and that also overwhelmed me.

Plucking up the courage as he stared at me, spilling my guts to him. “And I get to wake up next to the man of my dreams any time I want.” My hands fiddled together, trying to distract myself from the awkward tension I had unintentionally built.

“Man of your dreams?” George asked softly, placing his hand on mine.

I nodded, meeting his gaze. He had a soft smile on his lips and an almost unreadable expression.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.” He admitted. I stared back at him dumbfounded. “You know I’m not good with the whole admitting feelings thing, I barely even told my friends I loved them until years into our friendship.” I giggled at his all too true comment.

“Well, I guess we’re both at fault for that then huh?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me in for a hug. I embraced his warmth and felt more comfortable than I had in a long time.

“Let’s go back to bed love, we’ll talk about this more when we’ve slept.” He grabbed my hand and led me back to his room.

I slid back to my side of the bed, cozying into the blankets.

“I reckon we’re up to the point you can sleep closer to me yeah?” George reached his arms out, pulling me over to him. I rested my head on his chest, intertwining our legs in a way that was comfortable for both of us.

“Get some sleep love.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Name Day - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx's love life is complicated...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"You still haven't told me," Ekko says, and there's a hoarse hitch in his throat, "what you want."

"Want for what?"

"Your Name Day."

Jinx smiles.

Lifting one pale hand, she strokes a pattern into the bare curve of his shoulder. Zephyr leaves, looping in invisible spirals. He doesn't flinch; but he's close enough that she can see the flecks of deep-amber in his eyes darken to burnt coffee. His skin holds the same aroma: something clean, yet enticingly sharp.

It's a scent that's always clung to him, for as far as she can stretch memory's fingers. And for as long as she remembers, it's always stirred a peculiar sensation in her belly.

Something that leaves her both hungry all over and yet deeply satisfied at once.

Jinx breathes in, and holds it.

"I mean," Ekko goes on, his palm callused and warm on her kneecap. "We missed a lot of years. What're you supposed to get somebody who shoots at you half the time?"

"I'm not shooting at you now."

Though she could, if she wanted. PuffPuff is nestled between their bodies, snug inside her thigh-holster. For the moment, though, the danger's dormant. The gun may as well be a trusting little piggy tucked safely under a blanket.

There's no gap for a bullet to break on. And though both she and Ekko are fully-clothed, the moment's too bare for concealment.

This is Neutral Territory; these are naked feelings.

Neither is completely safe.

"There's lots of things I want," Jinx says, as her fingers itsy-bitsy spider up the curve of his bicep. "Problem is, most of 'em don't belong to me."

"And that's ever stopped you?"

"Nope."

She tips her chin; not quite meeting his querying gaze. Eye contact's a kind of trap; she hates being cornered.

But cornered she is; by the gentle pressure of his hand against her leg; by the cramped intimacy of the motorcar; by the drain of mutual antagonism they've been circling for months now.

No more blitzkriegs of bullets; no high-octane smackdowns. This is no longer a game. They've played too hard for the rules to be fair anymore.

Here, under the glow of a moon just shy of ripe, it's a dance. And in the stillness, they're in-sync: step for step, breath for breath, beat for beat.

Close as only a pair of clockwork hearts can be.

 "Look," Ekko says, because Mister Clever-Clogs has got to talk his way through whatever is incognito, even if that means blowing his own cover. "I didn't invite you here expecting anything. I don't. Not really. I just wanted..."

Jinx quirks a brow. "To talk to me?"

"Ye-eah." His voice cracks a tiny bit; a smile breaks the taut line of his jaw. "Guess so."

"So: talk."

"I—"

She scoots closer, tucking herself easily against him. Her blue head nestles on his breastbone. His chest's a hard curve; his heartbeat a tripwire cadence. She feels the tightly-coiled strength hidden in the lean armature of muscle. He's packed on pounds and inches since they'd last squared off on the Bridge. In place of puppy fat, there are accented angles: a firmer cut to the arms, a squared-off jaw, a broader shoulderspan.

She's reminded, viscerally, that the boy she'd spent a childhood chasing through backalleys—first as friends, then as foes—is almost full-grown.

His maturity should disquiet her; send her fleeing back to Silco's embrace. She was taught to give grown men wide berth growing up—her Daddy, for all his foibles, believed the best target's kept between the crosshairs. And Zaun's streets teemed with big, dumb bullies whose cojones outweighed common sense.

It took a fistful of firepower and a gutful of bloodlust to send 'em packing.

Jinx always carried both in excess.

Then she'd met Viktor—her wise, wasting Vitya. So pretty, with his fragile, haunted features and his aura of deathly calm, honed by decades of suffering. Like called to like; magic tangled where bodies dared not tread. She'd spent a summer breathing in his arid affections: sideways smiles traded over late-night hypotheses; cultured intonations lulling her racing mind into stillness; long-fingered hands, unhurried and precise, adjusting her measurements to bridge the gap where blind inspiration faltered.

He was safe. Safer still with his daredevil dreams of an unblemished sky, and a city reborn from scratch. With such high-swooping hopes, what did the secret stirrings of an eighteen-year-old girl matter?

Then they'd traversed to the Void, and matter ceased to hold meaning.

That day—in that rippling elsewhere of silvered sands and starfall and supernovas—she'd threaded the seams of herself to Viktor's. She'd left girlish fantasies at the wayside; she'd yielded her spirit to his, an apotheosis without parallel, surrender made sublime.

She became the magic. He became the mirror.

It was a fusion beyond mortal ken.

Except...

Except something was missing.

In the mortal plane, Viktor's soul-threads remain stitched tight to hers. The austere adulation that slips—ghostly and gilded—into her senses holds no equal, not on earth. They'd made a heaven of nothingness in the liminal. Naturally, her true self belonged there; in another realm entirely, removed from mere flesh.

Yet here, in the flesh, Jinx is alive.

Alive, and burning to be touched.

What would Viktor think, watching her nuzzle the curve of Ekko's throat? Knowing she's pledged to him in the aether—yet her heart beats hardest here? With a kid-king who rules the roost over a bunch of nobodies, but nourishes her deep-set hurts as if they're his own. Who has loved her at her weakest and loathed her at her wildest, but can't resist her when she's balanced on the fragile equilibrium between both extremes?

Viktor, Jinx thinks, would forgive her.

Viktor forgives everything. He's transcended limitation, become untouchable.

Whereas Ekko is touchable. And when he touches her, she feels it in every fiber of herself: messily, ecstatically, irrevocably.

What's it mean, Jinx wonders, as Ekko's lips butterfly her temple, that one man has her soul at knifepoint, but another one's holding her heart hostage? What's it say that she and Viktor fit together just right, but she and Ekko were built from perfectly mismatched puzzle pieces? What does it matter if she needs them both, but in ways so opposite they might as well be a different language?

How does she make the ends meet?

Especially when her life—her death—still hangs on Silco's strings? And her past—her future—still hinges on Vi's?

Her whole being seems composed of pieces that don't align. Broken fragments orbiting the very inverse of centrifugal force.

(One day, she'll write a book about it. An epic adventure of slapstick comedy, gunpowder tragedy, and interdimensional travel. All revolving around a revolution, because revolution's just love by another name.)

(Like magic.)

Ekko's fingertips trace up her spine. Jinx's trance fades.

[koyagifs]

𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻

pairing: hongjoong x reader au: non idol | friends to strangers | college genre: angst word count: 2.5k synopsis: why would you ever kiss me? i'm not even half as pretty. warning(s): angst w/ no comfort, cursing. alcohol

taglist: @vixensss @gigikubolong29 @xdannix @mrskill2 @hazeljisulatte

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting anyone to see the pain etched across your face. The laughter between them felt deafening, even as the rest of the world seemed to blur into silence. You clutched at the strap of your bag, your nails digging into your palm as you fought back the tears threatening to fall.

Why does it hurt so much? you thought bitterly, your chest tightening with every passing second. You wanted to look away, to leave the room, but you couldn’t help but glance back, hoping—praying—that maybe it wasn’t what it seemed.

But the way Hongjoong looked at her… the way his smile lit up, carefree and genuine… it shattered whatever fragile hope you had left.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and walked away, your steps quick and uneven. You needed to get away. Away from him. Away from her. Away from the weight pressing on your chest like a boulder threatening to crush you entirely.

The memory played in your mind like a cruel joke. His voice, soft and pleading, echoed in your head. “Come on, just one kiss,” he had whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. The way his eyes softened as he looked at you, the slight tilt of his lips—it felt so real, so intimate, that you let yourself believe it meant something more.

But now, standing here and watching him with her, it all felt like a lie. Your best friend. That’s all he was supposed to be, but you couldn’t deny the way he made your heart race or the way his touch lingered just a moment too long. You’d convinced yourself it was special, that you were special to him.

Now, it felt like you were nothing. Like those nights meant nothing. The laughter you’d shared, the secrets whispered between you, the kisses stolen in the dim light of your apartment—all of it felt cheap in the face of the way he held her.

You clenched your fists, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears. “He’s your best friend,” you reminded yourself. “He doesn’t owe you anything.” But it didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

You kept walking, aimless and desperate to escape the weight crushing you. Your mind replayed the scene over and over: Hongjoong’s arm around her, the way he smiled at her like she was the center of his world.

It felt cruel, like the universe had decided to remind you just how small you really were to him. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the memory of his voice—his touch, his laugh—clung to you like a ghost.

You came to a stop by a quiet corner of the street, leaning heavily against a wall. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slid down to the ground, burying your face in your knees as the sobs wracked through you.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, the world moving on around you as you unraveled. All you knew was that it hurt. It hurt so much, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

It had been a month, and the silence from Hongjoong was louder than anything you’d ever heard. Not a text, not a call—nothing. It was as if you didn’t exist anymore, like the bond you thought was unbreakable had dissolved into nothing but a distant memory.

Your usual spots on campus, once shared with laughter and inside jokes, were now taken over by him and her. Every time you passed by, it was like a punch to the gut. She sat there, always wrapped in his sweater—the one he used to let you borrow when you were cold.

It stung, seeing her bundled up and cozy in something that once felt like it belonged to you. You’d try to avoid those places, to carve out new spaces for yourself, but somehow you’d always find yourself glancing back. A part of you couldn’t help it, no matter how much it hurt.

You couldn’t escape the memories. They were everywhere: in the library corner where you used to study together, in the coffee shop where he’d steal sips of your drink with that playful grin, and even in the cracks of your own heart.

Every time you saw them, it felt like a cruel reminder of how easily you’d been replaced. Like all the moments you shared were nothing more than placeholders for someone else. You hated how bitter it made you feel, how it twisted your chest with jealousy and regret.

But most of all, you hated how much you still missed him.

it hurt even more because every time you make it back to your apartment. Memories of you two constantly consumes you and you hated it.

You stood frozen in the doorway of your apartment, the silence greeting you like an unwelcome guest. Your eyes darted toward the couch in the living room, and the memories came rushing in like a tidal wave. The way Hongjoong’s arms had wrapped around you as you sat on his lap, his warmth pressing against your back while his soft laughter filled the room. It was your safe space back then, a place where you felt wanted—loved.

Now, it felt like a hollow reminder of everything you'd lost.

Your chest tightened as you stepped inside, dropping your bag onto the floor. You hated how your mind clung to those moments, replaying every stolen glance, every gentle touch, every whispered promise like they were pieces of a song you couldn't stop humming. The couch used to be where you’d fall asleep tangled in each other, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Now, it was just a piece of furniture—a ghost of what once was.

The music thumped around you, drowning out the sound of your own shaky breathing as you clutched the red cup tightly to your chest. The plastic bent slightly under your grip, a small physical manifestation of the storm brewing inside you. Your gaze was locked on her, the girl who had effortlessly stolen his attention—the one who seemed to shine in a way that made you feel invisible.

Hongjoong’s smile was radiant, the kind that used to be reserved for you. His eyes never left her, as if the entire world faded into the background when she was near. The sight of it made your stomach twist painfully, jealousy and heartbreak warring within you. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions, one you were forced to swallow as you stood there, unnoticed.

You pressed the rim of the cup to your lips, pretending to drink even though the liquid inside had long gone warm. Anything to look occupied, anything to mask the way your chest ached with every laugh that left his lips. The room around you buzzed with life, but all you could feel was the hollow emptiness where his attention used to be.

Why won’t he look at me? The question burned in your mind, louder than the music, louder than the laughter surrounding you. But deep down, you already knew the answer. You weren’t enough—not anymore.

You tore your gaze away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. If Hongjoong didn’t care enough to see you, then you’d make yourself invisible. And you did.

Seonghwa and Mingi walked towards Hongjoong as he just finished walking the girl to her class. A love sick smile stuck on his face before he waved towards the two boys. Seonghwa held a look of concern as well as Mingi as they stopped Hongjoong. " have you heard from yn?" Hongjoong froze - as if something had finally caught up in him.

Hongjoong’s lovesick grin faltered, his hand lingering mid-wave before it dropped to his side. The question hit him like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the lightness out of his step. His gaze shifted between Seonghwa and Mingi, their expressions heavy with concern.

“Y/n?” he echoed, his voice quieter, almost hesitant, as if the name itself carried a weight he wasn’t ready to face.

Mingi nodded, his brows furrowing. “Yeah. We haven’t seen her around lately. She’s not answering her phone either. We figured you might’ve heard something.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to remember the last time he’d spoken to you—really spoken to you, not just exchanged passing pleasantries or half-hearted waves. The memories felt distant, blurry, overshadowed by the girl he’d been so caught up with lately.

“I… I haven’t,” he admitted, his voice tinged with guilt. He could feel Seonghwa’s eyes boring into him, scrutinizing his every reaction.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa began carefully, his tone low but firm, “she’s been off lately. Everyone’s noticed it, and now she’s just… disappeared. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“I didn’t realize…” Hongjoong trailed off, his throat tightening. He hated how shallow his own words sounded, how blind he’d been. A pang of guilt clawed at his chest as the realization hit him: while he’d been wrapped up in his own world, you had slipped away, unnoticed.

Mingi looked at Seonghwa as he nudged him to say something.

" im sure yn will answer my calls, she never declines them" Hongjoong mumbled, taking his phone out his pocket.

When he clicked on your name though - he was sent to voicemail. Seonghwa and Mingi raised an eyebrow as Hongjoong let out an awkward chuckle. " her phone is probably dead.."

Hongjoong’s awkward chuckle did little to ease the tension between him and the two boys. Seonghwa crossed his arms, his piercing gaze narrowing slightly. “Or she’s ignoring you,” he said bluntly, the edge in his voice making Hongjoong flinch.

Mingi sighed, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when’s the last time you really talked to her? Like… checked in with her?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked down at his phone, the screen still on your contact name, as if it could give him an answer. A heavy silence hung between the three of them, broken only by the faint noise of students passing by in the hallway.

“She’s been distant,” Seonghwa continued, his voice softer now. “Not just from you, but from everyone. It’s not like her to just vanish like this. You must’ve noticed something, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s throat tightened further, guilt crashing over him like a wave. “I’ve… been distracted,” he admitted quietly, the lovesick glow in his expression now completely replaced by a shadow of regret. “I didn’t think…”

Hongjoong stood there, rooted to the spot as Seonghwa and Mingi walked away, their disappointed expressions lingering in his mind like an echo. The hallway seemed quieter now, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to confront the gnawing guilt clawing at his chest.

“When was the last time…” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of memory, but they slipped through his grasp like sand. He couldn’t remember the last real conversation he’d had with you. Sure, there had been the occasional polite exchange—a distracted “Hey, how are you?” as he rushed off to meet her, or a half-hearted wave in passing. But when had he truly stopped and seen you?

Hongjoong’s stomach churned as he realized he didn’t have an answer.

You walked up to Seonghwa who looked at you in shocked, ready to bring you into a tight hug but when you moved back something in him understood why you have been distance.

" yn.." he said softly.

Your grip on your phone tighten as it rung once again, pressing the power button twice to decline it.

" can you tell Hongjoong to stop calling me, please." you said.

Seonghwa froze, his arms falling to his sides as he took in your words. The raw pain in your voice, the way your hands trembled as you clutched your phone—it all hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Y/n…" he repeated softly, his tone laced with both concern and guilt. He wanted to pull you into that hug anyway, to tell you that everything would be okay, but the distance you kept between you made it clear that this wasn’t the moment.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, swallowing hard as your phone buzzed again in your hand. Without even glancing at the screen, you pressed the power button twice, the familiar pang of dread settling in your chest as the call ended.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… tell him to stop.”

Seonghwa hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He could see the hurt etched across your face, the exhaustion in your eyes. It wasn’t just anger driving your request—it was something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he could fix.

Seonghwa nodded his head, as you said a quick thanks before turning on your heel. Heading towards the library, your final safe space that Hongjoong has not taken over.

Seonghwa stood there, watching as you walked away, your figure growing smaller with each step. His heart sank deeper with every second, knowing he had only scratched the surface of whatever pain you were carrying. The way you moved—head down, shoulders tense—made it clear you weren’t just upset. You were tired, weighed down by something much heavier than he’d initially thought.

The library was quiet, just as you’d hoped. The faint scent of old books and the soft rustling of pages created a calming backdrop, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. You moved to the farthest corner, a secluded nook surrounded by towering shelves that seemed to shield you from the outside world.

This space, untouched by memories of him, felt like a sanctuary. No lingering traces of his presence, no echoes of his laughter, no reminders of the person you’d once trusted so deeply.

You sank into a chair by the window, pulling your knees to your chest as you rested your chin on them. Your phone buzzed in your pocket again, and you didn’t even bother looking this time. With a deep breath, you pulled it out, powered it off completely, and set it on the table beside you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence didn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it was a balm, offering you a moment to think, to process, to breathe.

You pulled your laptop out, the soft click of the latch breaking the quiet. A small smile crept onto your lips as you glanced up, momentarily distracted by the figure standing before you. His tall frame cast a shadow over your nook, but it wasn’t overbearing—it felt warm, comforting.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he said, placing your favorite drink gently on the table in front of you. His voice was soft, laced with a quiet familiarity that made your chest feel lighter. He settled into the chair across from you, his presence grounding and unintrusive. He gave you a small, knowing smile - a smile that brought you comfort.

"Hey"

[lnqr]

Heart In the Wrong Hands - Prologue

Hello all you wayward sinners! Welcome to the Prologue of my first ever Fan fic! This is going to be a Human Alastor x F!Reader Fanfic, however (Y/n) will not be appearing in the prologue.

For basic settings this is 1920s New Orleans (as are more Human Alastor Fics

Enjoy! A/N: 

When I say mentions/thoughts it means someone (likely Alastor) thinks about them but doesn't actually do it…. Yet. But if the warning does not say ‘mentions’ then he will be actually killing or eating someone. 

Word Count: 1450 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: 

Time period accurate racism

Swearing

Gore mentions/thoughts 

Cannibalism mentions/thoughts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Alastor’s POV ~ 

“So It's a deal then?” 

The station owner leaned forward in his chair with his hand extended as he looked at the blonde, slightly plump man seated across from him. The blonde man extended his hand and clasped his hand in a firm handshake. 

Alastor narrowed his eyes as he watched in irritation as his boss confirmed the transaction.

The man formally known as your boss beamed at the blond man. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Virgil. I’m sure you’ll do great things with my radio station.”

The blonde man who Alastor had figured out was called Virgil, noticed Alastor’s staring and smirked at him smugly. Alastor's eyes narrowed further. Oh how he wanted to tear that man apart, working under this rich bastard was going to be a nightmare and Alastor could already tell it would drive him insane. 

He could imagine it now, Virgil bossing him around and making him do tasks outside of his job description just because of his skin. Rich people tended to see him as lower, he was used to that. But that didn't mean he didn't want to tear off his skin from his face slowly as he watched that disgusting smile be torn off his face. Maybe he’d even cook the skin and save it for later as a snack, it had been a while since he'd actually kept any of his victims. 

Alastor was brought back to reality as his former boss spoke again. 

“I suppose I best introduce you to the people who work here, you've already met our star host Alastor!” your former boss turned from Virgil to Alastor as he spoke gesturing to Alastor. Alastor grinned at Virgil and he scoffed. “That...thing” Virgil pointed a finger towards Alastor with a disgusted face “Is your top host?” 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed in on him. 

“Thing? Mr Callahan, I will have you know I am more than capable of being a star host. I have spent many years perfecting my skills and am adored by many.” Alastor countered, voice laced with venom as he placed his hand over his heart in mock offense. 

“Adored is a strong word Mr Hartfelt, It would do you good to get your pride in check.” Virgil returned with a smirk. Alastor's grin tightened, his annoyance was rising. Was he really letting this arrogant prick get under his skin? No. He wouldn’t snap. Not here. Not to something like this. 

The former station owner shot Virgil a look that suggested he stopped. 

“If you wish to keep the station high on the lists I would suggest keeping Alastor around. While yes, he is different from us, he is also an excellent host and genuinely a good person to be around.” The former owner broke the argument and Alastor couldn't help but grin even more, in fact he almost let out a chuckle. Him? A good person? The thought was laughable at best. He ignored the fact that his former boss thought he was different, he did not say below, only different so Alastor accepted it. Besides he knew the man well and knew he had no ill intentions and was just trying to ease the tension. 

“Yeah yeah whatever, as long as he stays in his place I suppose he can stay.” Virgil reluctantly spoke, his arms crossed as he stood from his chair, to which both Alastor and the former boss did the same. 

The former station owner stood and walked over to Virgil escorting him out of the office to go ‘show him the ropes,’ leaving Alastor alone in the office with his own thoughts. Why the boss sold his company to that disgrace of a man was beyond Alastor’s comprehension. The man knew nothing about radio and clearly had zero passion. He wondered how much the station had been brought for. It had to be a large amount, Alastor’s show was the top in the town and earned highly. Virgil would be making a fortune off Alastor’s work, but at least Alastor got the majority of the pay. 

“I am definitely raising the percentage. I mean 30% of the income he makes going to me? That's pathetic numbers. It should be the other way around.” Virgil’s voice rang from the hallway, fading into the distance. 

Way to jinx it Alastor. 

Alastor sighed, running a hand through his straightened brunette hair. This was not going to end well…

For Virgil. 

Oh Alastor could imagine it now. The day he finally watches as the life slowly drains from Virgil’s eyes. The paling of his skin. Oh the adrenaline Alastor would feel, it would be divine. His basement was well equipped with tools perfect for torture, and it would seem he had just found his next victim.

But alas, that would have to wait. He couldn't risk the connection he had to Virgil. It would be too suspicious to kill him now. Besides, who would take over the radio station then? Alastor was more than happy to but he knew that he would never get that opportunity because of who he was. Racist pricks. So, Virgil could live…

For now.

Alastor rubbed his temples as he left the office to head to his own studio. It was nearly time for his broadcast and he still needed to plan out a few things. 

He took a seat on the wooden desk chair and pulled out a stack of paper from his drawer, placing them with a thud on the desk. He sifted through his notes until he found something entertaining to speak about, placing that particular paper off to the side and grabbing today’s newspaper. He leaned back with his feet up on the desk, looking at the front cover with a sinister smile. 

‘Mysterious New Orleans Serial Killer Strikes Again’ was written in big bold letters on the front cover. Ah, so someone had managed to find the body of his latest kill. How… Unfortunate. 

But it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, he planned to take the next few home for his meals. He’d been operating on ‘normal food’ for the past few weeks and was easily getting bored of them. He needed a change and human flesh always proved as a mood booster to him, so that's what he’d do. 

He was thrown from his thoughts when his door slammed open without warning and Virgil walked in with a grin that was unsettling in itself despite how he treated Alastor prior.

“Can I help you Mr Callahan?” Alastor asked, raising an eyebrow and taking his feet off his desk to stand at his full height. 

“Yes, indeed you can. I’m going to be hosting a party to celebrate my new investment. Since you are the” Virgil made air quotation marks with his hands. “‘Star host.’ It’s only fair I bring you along. But not because I like you. I despise your kind.” Virgil grinned as he lowered his hand, grabbing a card with the party details from his pocket before handing it to Alastor. 

Alastor deliberately made sure their hands brushed against each other as he took the card and he couldn't deny, Virgil's reaction was priceless. Virgil’s face contorted in disgust and frantically wiped his hand on his vest.

“You disgusting creature, how dare you touch me with your filth.” Virgil retorted with anger. 

To this Alastor couldn’t hold back his laughter. He covered his hand with his mouth and snickered at Virgil’s over reaction.

“I swear your kind is nothing but filth. How you even managed to get this job is beyond me. You belong on the streets with the rest of the rats.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. 

“Was that everything you needed Virgil?” he asked, hoping to get Virgil out of his studio before he needed to go on air. 

“That’s Mr Callahan to you. But yes, that's all. Now go do your job and make me money.”

Virgil waved his hand dismissively as he turned and left the studio, shutting the door behind him. 

“What a pleasant man you are! Can’t wait to work with you!” Alastor called out and if the thumping of foot steps leaving was any indication, he could tell he’d gotten under Virgil’s skin. Just like he wanted to.

Alastor turned back around to the desk with all his equipment. A party? At Virgil’s, how intriguing. Alastor wasn’t one for big social gatherings but this event could provide him with useful information. 

But for now, back to the broadcast! 

Alastor leaned forward in his chair and flicked a couple switches, turning on the “On Air” light outside his studio door. He unmuted his microphone and spoke.

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And there you have it folk! The prologue is done. I’m working on the first chapter and more at the moment. I still don’t have a posting schedule but hopefully in the future. I’m still getting used to writing as this is my first fanfic or book of any kind outside of school work.

If you have any recommendations or spot any spelling mistakes, please let me know! and as always...

Stay Tuned 

[infinitatis-ink]

fdsgfdfg ain't much but I do have 2 WIPs that I'm actively working on one sentence at a time. One day I will learn to juggle more than 2 WIPs at a time, but today is not that day!

Also gonna tag @angelbunsx and @sencrose pspsps I know you guys are also cooking up some juicy ideas in your drafts adfsgh

This one's from my manager and big brother!Geto x idol!Reader. Geto is very mean here, and it's only going to get worse for Reader lol.

“Take a good look at yourself,” Suguru murmurs, his voice low and even. “Acting so pure and innocent when you’re just another slut. If your group members could see you now…” You let out a high pitched moan, too blinded by pleasure to think of a proper response. Your older brother’s always had a possessive streak to him, never let you stray far from him even as kids, and declaring himself your protector. But it’s intensified ever since your group exploded in popularity with the underground idol scene, and you found yourself as the fan favourite. The more popular you became, the stricter Suguru grew until he was all but managing your every move. Even your other group members are beginning to notice.  “Suguru, I’m sorry—” you whimper. “Whatever I did, I didn’t mean—” Wrong answer. Suguru stops, two fingers still pressed on either side of your clit. He’s still wearing his usual serene smile, the one that wins over the trust of everyone he meets. Only the way his lips are pursed ever so slightly betrays his restrained anger. 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. In the empty room it echoes, loud and foreboding. Your blood runs cold.  “Don’t lie.”

And this one's from an old idea I finally started getting down on paper, about younger brother Gojo developing romantic feelings for his older sis. Well, it was supposed to be a straightforward incest fic, but then I got carried away and it somehow became a bit of a study about the women of the Gojo clan and societal misogyny with a side of incest. Oops...?

In your earliest memory, you are almost dead. Most of all, you remember the pain. A slow, steady ache that’d spread throughout your tiny body, rattling your lungs with each cough you take. Your head had pounded, the blood-stained tatami digging into your skin as the world around you grew hazy. You might’ve cried for Granny—or perhaps you’d already learned at the tender age of four that nobody will help you. You don’t remember; nor does it matter. You know that now.  Secondly, you remember Satoru’s eyes. They’d been the first and last thing you’d seen when you’d collapsed to the floor in a violent coughing fit from the poisoned tea. There’d been a scream in the background, the sound of cloth swishing, doors slamming open and shut. Satoru had raced towards you, his bright, sky-blue eyes alight with a terror that you won’t see again for years, his chubby hands reaching out for yours. He'd never made it, being swept away by a group of maids who rushed him straight to his quarters, his eyes still searching for yours in the gaps between the long sleeves of their kimonos until the door had closed behind him.  Nobody had remembered to come for you.  When you’d come too, you’d been left alone in your dark, cold room. Echoes of Granny’s and your mother’s voice had reached through the shoji doors.    “Thank goodness she’ll live. The dose was too weak,” Granny had said. “Such a strong girl, that one. She hardly cried.” Your mother’s voice had been hard and cold when she’d replied all too quickly. “Better her than Satoru. Are there enough guards around his quarters?” The first lesson you learn in life is this: Your life exists to extend that of your younger brother’s. 

silly wip tag game!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

show us a paragraph, line or dialogue out of context from your current wip[s]. if you aren't a writer, feel free to share one from the last fic you read! ♡

these are from three different wips, the last one is something i wrote in december 2024 (those who remember me talking about nanami and a desi reader...yea), and the second one is something my aashi (@fushitoru) has been asking for since the beginning of time [hint: salaryman choso]

— npt: @gojocon @norikuna @sonnytoru @starmapz @aishi-toru @baepsays @gojosoups @indiewritesxoxo @madamechrissy + anyone else

[honeii-puff]

Razorblades all in your feet

In which Soren wishes his relatives were less murder-y Read on ao3

Soren wasn’t someone who stared, but if given the opportunity, he’d probably stare at Corvus’ face for the rest of his life and just let the world pass by without him.

He wasn’t extremely expressive, but he liked watching the microexpressions cross Corvus’ face; The way his nose scrunched ever so slightly when talking, the small crease that would form between his eyebrows when he paused to think about something, and the way the left side of his lip would twitch slightly when Soren made a joke.

 Corvus was just so fascinating. Every bit of him was something unexpected, and Soren loved it. He might’ve even said he loved him, if he was naive enough. 

But he wasn’t. He knew better than that.

The two of them had headed back inside from the small courtyard, now walking down the empty hallway, their footsteps echoing against the walls.

“You think Rayla and Callum made out yet?” Soren asked abruptly. Not because he was curious– he was, though– but because he wanted to see Corvus’ reaction.

He sputtered slightly. “I mean- I hardly think it’s my buisne–” he paused. “You’re messing with me.”

Soren snorted lightly. “Yep.”

“You do that a lot.”

“I like seeing how you react to things,” Soren admitted. “You seem like this super stoic person, always 100% serious. I like trying to make you laugh.”

Your laugh makes me want to kiss you over and over again. 

Corvus gave him a small smile. “For the record, I-”

A loud scream and the sound of breaking abruptly cut him off, coming from the ballroom.

Oh no.

They both looked at each other before breaking off into a run, towards the ballroom. Once they got there, they weaved through the crowd to figure out what the hell was going on.

The first thing Soren saw was blood. Thick, crimson blood formed a pool on the pristine floor, under the corpse of a man he didn’t recognize. A gaping hole was in the gentleman’s chest, right where his heart was supposed to be.

He knew what this was…

Viren and Claudia.

How were they so careless?

Usually, they’d be more… discreet. Not that he approved of it in the first place, but they were making a scene.

The air felt too hot and stuffy like it was boiling around him.

He had to get out of there.

Soren weaved back through the crowd, back towards the door, and into the empty hallway, leaving Corvus.

He’d see him again.

Hopefully.

He felt someone grab him by the arm and drag him around the corner. Jerking his arm away, he turned to see that it was Rayla.

“What are you doing?” Soren hissed at her.

“What are you doing?” She shot back at him. “Are you in on this?”

“What? No!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I’m not.”

“That’d be much more believable if you weren’t leaving.” she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Rayla, you know I don’t like the surface, and you know that I never partake in whatever blood rituals Viren and Claudia do.” Soren frowned slightly. “You do know that, right?”

Surely she did.

Right?

She ran a hand down her face, sighing. “Why would they do it in public?”

“How should I know?” He threw his hands up. “I haven’t talked to them since yesterday. The best thing I can do is go back and wait.”

It’s getting too dry up here, anyway.

An uneasy silence filled the corridor, and Soren took his cue to leave.

Rayla didn’t try to stop him this time.

——————————————————————

The water was cool on Soren’s skin as he dipped below the surface of the water.

Makes him wonder why he left in the first place.

He dived down alongside the underwater cliff, his hand running along the rocky wall. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the water, the outlines of lower rockfaces sharpening.

His hand hooked into the top of the cave entrance and dove through it, pausing to look around.

Nothing.

What was he expecting?

He wasn’t sure.

Soren pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, leaning against the cold stone.

He could’ve stayed. He should’ve. There’s nothing here. Why would Viren and Claudia come back down here after doing a ritual to have legs?

He was stupid.

Soren shifted into a sitting position, curling his tail under himself. In doing so, a small clang rang out, causing him to look down. 

The small sheep sculpture had fallen out of his bag and was now lying on the stone next to him.

He picked it up, cradling it in his hands carefully. It was adorable, and hadn’t spent as much time looking at it as he had wished.

Probably because he was too busy looking at Corvus.

He should give it a name.

He flopped onto the ground, peering at the ceramic sheep.

Pyrrah. He’d name it Pyrrah.

[xmads-omensx]

Part 5

Word Count: 1,994

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: angst, self-image issues, fake dating, swearing

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @amelia-acero @thisbicc @dominuslunae @enemiestolovershoe @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @cheyyyyr @littlebear423 @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch

NOAH

Grace’s appearance at the party, whilst irritating, wasn’t exactly unexpected.

As a group, we had become accustomed to her unwanted presence in our lives. My only regret was that I never told Y/N about her. She was supposed to be my best friend, after all.

Except that wasn’t enough for me. It never had been.

She plagued every thought in my brain.

I had written countless songs about her that had never seen the light of day. Songs about her eyes, her smile, her hair, her laugh. I had written songs about everything and anything that reminded me of her.

Except that still wasn’t enough for me.

I wanted her. No. I needed her.

Three years ago, she went on a girls trip with some of her friends to Italy and it had been the worst two weeks of my life.

I missed her so horrifically that it hurt to be away from her for so long.

Sure, I was happy that she was having fun with her friends, but I wanted it to be me she had fun with. I wanted it to be me who took her to Italy, not her friends.

Hell, if Bad Omens fell apart I wouldn’t give a single shit about it because I would still have her.

Or would I?

The first time Y/N told me about Stephen’s behaviour I was enraged. I told her that once she had finished talking.

What I didn’t tell her, however, was that Nicholas had to hold me down in order to prevent me from storming over to the office building and beating the shit out of that perverted asshole. He even went as far to make me sleep in his bed that night so he could make sure that I wouldn’t do anything that could land me in jail.

I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to the front door slam shut, indicating that Jolly had re-entered our house.

I could hear their muffled conversation from the living room. Jesse and Jolly were probably filling in Y/N with whatever they could think of in regards to Grace.

I didn’t care.

After all, Grace was right.

Y/N was, in fact, using me.

Granted, I was using her too, but not for the reasons she thought.

Yes, I did want to keep Grace as far away from me as possible, but she was still harmless regardless of if I was in a relationship or not.

I just wanted to be her boyfriend. For once. I just wanted to get what I wanted. Even if it wasn’t real.

The longer I lay there, staring into nothingness, the more I longed for it. I didn’t want her to be downstairs, talking to the others, I wanted her up here with me, curled up into my side with her head resting on my chest, rising and falling with my breaths.

I would look down at her and brush those shorter hairs that often fall into her face from that time she impulsively got bangs away from her face, making her giggle because she was so ticklish.

I would laugh at the goofy things that she said, making her head bounce along with my laughs.

I smiled absentmindedly at the thought.

Suddenly, the front door slammed, interrupting me from my daydreaming.

I sat up, confused.

Jesse and Jolly lived here and Y/N was staying the night, so who could have left?

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I walked to my bedroom door, opening it with a slow creak before tiptoeing down the stairs to investigate what the slamming was about.

Jolly sat on the sofa nearest the front door, looking at it with a shocked expression, whilst Jesse stood in the middle of the room, also staring at the front door. Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

“Did she leave?” I asked, startling the other two who must’ve not heard me coming down the stairs.

“Uhh- umm- yeah. She did.” Jesse spluttered, eyes darting to me with a slightly panicked expression.

“Why? I thought she was staying over?” I asked, getting increasingly worried. “Did she leave because of Grace?”

“I- uh- she didn’t say.” Jesse stuttered.

An awkward silence filled the living room as the three of us looked at eachother, all awaiting an explanation.

“I think she went back to her place, she said she was tired.” Jolly shrugged, clearly making up what he was saying as he went along.

“You both are terrible liars, you know that right?” I laughed, walking towards the front door before Jesse stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back.

“No!” He shouted with a panicked tone. “She probably wants to be alone, you know, with the whole Grace thing.”

That wasn’t like Y/N at all.

If someone had irritated her or pissed her off, she would automatically storm right up to my bedroom, throw herself onto my bed and begin telling me all about it.

TWO YEARS AGO

“Ugh I hate that bitch.” Y/N began, flopping onto my bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“Hello to you to.” I laughed.

“Bridget.” She sighed, twirling her hair around her finger. “I hate her.”

“What did she do now?” I asked.

Bridget was one of the new employees at Y/N’s work. She had claimed to be perfect for the position, but had proven to be the opposite. She was constantly late, backtalked Y/N and Gabi non-stop and was basically just the worst coworker ever.

“She was late. She rolled her eyes at Gabi. She spilled my coffee all over my desk.” Y/N began listing off all of the things Bridget had done that day to slight her, counting them off on her fingers as she went.

It made me laugh, how passionately she hated her new coworker.

She did everything passionately.

Hated, loved, laughed, cried. You name it.

“Want me to scare her off?” I laughed.

“Would you?” She asked, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

I stared at her before bursting out into laughter, whilst Y/N playfully smacked my chest, complaining about how horrible I was being to her.

“You know I would scare anyone off for you.” I said sighing.

“I know. That’s why you’re my best friend.” She smiled.

Whilst the moment was sweet, it didn’t stop that crack in my heart from deepening as I smiled back at her.

I needed to accept the fact that she would never want me as anything more than that.

PRESENT

I hesitated at Jesse’s words, taking in his panicked expression.

Jolly had stood up now too.

“Whatever.” I mumbled, retreating back up the stairs and into my room, crawling back onto my bed and resuming my earlier position.

She definitely wouldn’t want to see me after I failed to defend her to Grace.

Once again, I had fucked up and let Y/N slip through my fingers.

False hope after false hope had made that crack deeper and deeper, and I was pretty sure my heart was only being held together by a thread.

The last few weeks had both made me the happiest man alive, and the most miserable.

Whilst I was able to be her boyfriend in reality, I was willing to accept the falsehood of the lie we had created if it meant that I got to hold her hand and kiss her.

The thing was, pretending to love her was easy, since I already did. I had for a very long time.

She would never love me back, of course. Y/N was the most incredible woman I had ever met, therefore she had the ability to pick whoever she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and I had accepted that I would never be that man.

After all, I was her best friend.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I had never uttered a word about any of these feelings to anybody. Not even Nick.

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to retreat to the memories we had created over the last few weeks.

Y/N had a work party not too long after we had started our arrangement, which I had to attend as her boyfriend.

That night, I had driven over to her place in my black dress pants, freshly polished shoes and a white button-up shirt. I had even busted out my most expensive cologne and let Jolly style my hair for me.

It felt silly, when I was waiting for her in my car, that I had put all of this effort in despite us not really being together, but I wanted to show her that I could be a good boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t real.

“Damn where the fuck did you hide the real Noah?” She had laughed when she climbed into my car in a floor-length lilac dress with matching heels and a matching purse.

My heart fluttered in my chest as I looked at her. Beautiful wasn’t enough to describe how she looked.

Fuck that.

Not a single word in the English language was enough to even begin to describe how breathtaking she looked sitting in the passenger seat.

“I- uh-“ I had stuttered, making her laugh.

Fuck that laugh would be the death of me.

The party itself went by in a blur, especially since I spent the entire night looking at her.

I watched as she laughed with Gabi and Ashley about something.

As far as I was concerned, she was the only thing worth looking at.

“How on earth did you bag that?” A nasally voice spoke up from beside me, interrupting my thoughts.

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

Stephen was speaking to me.

“Sorry?” I said with a laugh, hoping I had misheard him.

“How did you manage to get with her?” He doubled down. Big mistake. “I mean, look at her.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” I laughed again.

“Do what?” He asked, genuinely confused, and mildly offended that I had argued back.

“You looking at my girlfriend.” I went on, my expression turning serious. “Don’t do it.”

He looked genuinely taken aback by my response.

“I was only complimenting her.” He defended.

“And I was only telling you to stop.” I retorted.

I easily towered over him.

His bald head reflected the lights above him. He looked almost comical stood next to me.

“She is my employee.” He argued.

“She is my girlfriend.” I laughed.

Stephen huffed and retreated back to the group of older men who stood away from the main party, glaring at me and clearly pissed off that I had stood up to him.

Y/N grinned at me from where she stood with her friends, having clearly witnessed the interaction.

I smiled back.

I was going to kill Stephen.

The ceiling above me offered no comfort as I reminisced.

Granted, I was only hurting myself by thinking about the times I felt like I was actually her boyfriend, but I couldn’t help it.

Besides, Y/N would never fall for someone like me anyway. A fake relationship was the best I was ever going to get, and I was more than happy.

Except I wasn’t.

I was in a constant state of happiness since I got to have her, whilst continually having my heart broken over and over again since she wasn’t mine. Not really.

Soon enough, she would find someone else, someone real, and I would be left alone and used.

The more rational part of my brain wanted to break our arrangement off, but I knew I couldn’t if I wanted to make sure that Stephen stayed the hell away from Y/N, but my selfish heart never wanted this to end.

I needed to decide what to do. And I needed to do it fast.

But it was too late to turn back now.

I had dug a hole so deep that I would need to tear myself apart to get out of it.