#a toll of the emotions and decisions and look to him

[deathfavor]

@yeonban said: do you need a hug? / Shal & Chrollo... either after Uvo's/Paku's deaths or after his own & Kortopi's!

It should be a simple answer in theory. But Chrollo Lucilfer is a ghost, and things are rarely simple when it comes to phantoms and spirits. He is a ghost to the world, existing despite the fact that there is no hard proof - no birth certificate, no records, nothing. One simply has to have faith in the fact his is real. Not unlike faith in a god, not unlike faith in a ghost or demon. He is a greater ghost to himself than to the world. He is his own holy church and Hadean prison. Haunted and spectre all in one.

Shalnark's question provokes a moment of reposeful reflection within himself. Does he need a hug? What does he need? Unlike a piece of ancient machinery or mathematical equation, there is no formula to dissect the essence of the human soul. It is not so simply as solving an equation or inputting into a calculator or generator. It will not yield the answer in clear ink and crisp paper. Far too fickle for such limiting constraints.

This is a choice made by sensation. It is made by faith and trust. It is made not by cold and precise calculation, but the spirit's song in cathedral pillars.

" I think so. " Chrollo answers when he's settled upon his truth. There is no right or wrong, there is not even truth and lie. There is what is perceived as his truth and what is not. This answer feels right despite the fact he can neither explain what makes it right nor how he has come to the conclusion: it merely is.

No one has asked this of Chrollo. They look to him with expectation and he strides forward. He wonders if he has lost some fragments of himself somewhere in this approach. Has he left behind pieces of him that needed something? He will never know. All he can know is that this will not be one of those times.

" I do. " He solidifies his answer after a heartbeat passes. He knows Shalnark too ; he would not pose such a question towards him without understanding the possible ramifications of it.

Chrollo still lingers a moment, haunting the threshold of the invitation before he accepts it. He steps closer and sinks into the waiting embrace and it feels like coming home. Everything is not as it once was, time has worn the pillars and sealings, but it is no less a home for that. It is always what the troupe is. For all the blood spilled and crimes committed, Chrollo has always been at his best when he is not adrift at sea, but with someone. Be it the whole troupe, a handful, or just one. He finds himself there in a way he doesn't elsewhere.

He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a momentarily reprieve from the cross-like burden of leader for a brief moment. He would not trade the cross for anything, and Chrollo is a master at concealing the skeletal fractures that sometimes splinter out. But Shalnark is just as sharp to see most of them when they happen to crack and appear. ( And in truth, all of this has pushed him towards an intensity of emotion he is not familiar with. ) He allows himself this time to rest in the safety of Shalnark's embrace. He's warm and alive.

" Thank you. "

[xelinielx]

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.

[pucksandpower]

Rock and A Hard Place

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix has your protective side clawing to the surface

Lando trudges into his driver’s room, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. The scent of champagne clings to him, a bitter reminder of the podium celebration he’d just endured. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the world and its expectations.

You’re already there, waiting for him. Your eyes soften as you take in his dejected posture. “Hey, champ,” you say softly, approaching him with open arms.

Lando looks up, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a storm of emotions swirling in those color changing depths — disappointment, anger, and a hint of relief at seeing you. “Some champ I am,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you wrap your arms around him.

“You finished P2. That’s still amazing,” you remind him, your voice gentle but firm. Your hands move to the zipper of his race suit, slowly peeling away the champagne-soaked fabric.

Lando lets out a bitter laugh. “Second place is just the first loser, isn’t it?” He winces as he moves his arms, the physical toll of the race finally catching up with him.

You shake your head, helping him out of the suit. “That’s not true and you know it. You fought hard out there.”

“I fought, alright,” Lando agrees, his voice tinged with frustration. “Fought with the team, fought with Will, fought with Oscar ...” He trails off, shaking his head.

As you help him step out of the suit, you can feel the tension radiating off him. “Talk to me, love. What happened out there?”

Lando sinks down onto the small couch in the room, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “It was all going so well at the start. Pole position, you know? I thought ... I really thought this could be it.”

You sit beside him, your hand finding his. “And then?”

“Oscar had a better start,” Lando explains, his free hand gesticulating as he speaks. “He took the lead, and I was right behind him. We were flying, both of us. But then the team ...” He pauses, swallowing hard.

“What did the team do?” You prompt gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of his hand.

Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of hurt and confusion in them. “They told me to pit before Oscar. I undercut him, took the lead. I thought ... I thought they were backing me for the win.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue. The pain in his voice is palpable, and your heart aches for him.

“But then they started pushing for a swap,” Lando continues, his voice rising slightly. “They wanted me to give the position back to Oscar. Can you believe that? After I’d fought so hard to get there?”

“That must have been so frustrating,” you say softly, squeezing his hand.

Lando nods vigorously. “It was! I mean, I get team orders, I do. But this ... it felt like they were playing with me. One minute they’re helping me get ahead, the next they want me to give it all up.”

“Did you argue with them?” You ask, though you already know the answer from the tension in his body.

“For laps,” Lando admits, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Will probably has a headache from all my yelling. But in the end ... in the end, I had to do it. Three laps from the end, I let Oscar by.”

You lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. “That must have been a really tough decision.”

Lando’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. “It was. I ... I know it was the right thing to do for the team. But it hurts, you know? To be so close and then ...”

“And then have it slip away,” you finish for him. “I can’t imagine how that feels.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. “It feels like shit, if I’m honest,” he finally says, a weak laugh escaping him.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “But you did it anyway. That takes a lot of strength. A lot of maturity.”

He shrugs, but you can see a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Maybe. Still doesn’t feel great, though.”

“I know,” you say, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “But I’m so proud of you. Not just for the podium, but for how you handled everything.”

Lando leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm. “You showed real team spirit out there. And let’s not forget, you started on pole. That’s incredible in itself.”

A small smile starts to form on Lando’s lips. “It was a pretty good qualifying, wasn’t it?”

You grin, nodding enthusiastically. “It was amazing. You were flying around that track like it was your personal playground.”

Lando’s smile grows, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I did feel pretty good yesterday. Like I could do no wrong.”

“Because you’re talented, Lando,” you remind him, your voice warm with affection. “So incredibly talented. One race doesn’t change that.”

He looks at you, his eyes softening. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

You shrug, a playful smirk on your lips. “It’s a gift. Plus, I happen to be your biggest fan.”

Lando chuckles, the sound warming your heart. “My biggest fan, huh? I thought that was Zak.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Zak’s got nothing on me. I’ve got the inside scoop on Lando Norris.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “And what’s that?”

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “That he’s not just an incredible driver, but also the kindest, funniest, most amazing person I know.”

Lando’s cheeks flush slightly, but his eyes are bright as they meet yours. “You’re biased,” he accuses, but there’s no heat in his words.

“Guilty as charged,” you admit with a grin. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Lando’s hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs.

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” you reply, leaning into his touch.

For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Then Lando speaks again, his voice softer now. “You know, even with everything that happened ... standing on that podium, I couldn’t help but think about how far we’ve come. The team, I mean.”

You nod encouragingly. “It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?”

“God, yes,” Lando agrees, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Remember when getting into Q3 was a big deal? And now we’re fighting for wins, getting double podiums ...”

“It’s incredible,” you say, your voice filled with genuine awe. “You should be so proud of the part you’ve played in that.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, considering your words. “I am,” he finally says, a note of surprise in his voice. “I really am. It’s just ... sometimes it’s hard to see the big picture.”

You nod, understanding. “That’s why you’ve got me. To remind you of how far you’ve come when you’re too close to see it yourself.”

Lando’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You grin up at him. “You were just you. That’s more than enough.”

Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the room temperature. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, heart swelling with affection. “Forever and ever.”

As you lean in to kiss him, you can feel the last of the tension leaving Lando’s body. The disappointment of the race isn’t forgotten, but it’s faded into the background, overshadowed by the love and support between you.

When you finally pull apart, Lando’s smiling — a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “You know,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I think I might need some help getting this champagne off me. Fancy a shower?”

You laugh, standing up and offering him your hand. “Lead the way. I hear you’re pretty good at that.”

As Lando takes your hand, his earlier frustration seems a distant memory. There will be other races, other chances for victory. But right now, in this moment, he has everything he needs — the love of his life, a promising career, and the knowledge that no matter what happens on track, he always has a home to come back to in your arms.

***

The soft glow of candlelight flickers across the table, casting dancing shadows on Lando’s face as he leans in, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. “You know,” he says, his voice low and playful, “I think I might actually be hungry enough to eat everything on this menu.”

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Everything? Even the fish?”

Lando’s nose wrinkles, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Okay, maybe not everything. But close enough.”

The restaurant buzzes with quiet conversation around you, a contrast to the chaos of the track earlier in the day. It’s a small, intimate place, tucked away from the main streets of Budapest — a hidden gem Lando discovered during one of his previous visits to the city.

“I’m just glad we managed to sneak out without anyone recognizing us,” you say, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers with his. “It’s nice to have you all to myself for a change.”

Lando’s thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes soft in the candlelight. “Trust me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

As the waiter approaches with your drinks — a local craft beer for Lando and a colorful cocktail for you — Lando’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Everything okay?” You ask, concern coloring your voice.

Lando nods, but there’s a hint of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Yeah, just ... social media’s going a bit mad about the race. Some people aren’t too happy about how it played out.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Hey, look at me. What matters is that you did what was best for the team. That takes real strength.”

Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of gratitude and lingering doubt in them. “I know, I just ... sometimes I wonder if I made the right call.”

Before you can respond, a loud voice cuts through the restaurant’s gentle ambiance. “Oi! Is that Lando Norris?”

Lando stiffens, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as you both turn to see a man stumbling towards your table. The strong smell of alcohol precedes him, and his eyes are slightly unfocused as he points an accusatory finger at Lando.

“It is you!” The man slurs, swaying slightly as he reaches your table. “The guy who gave up the win. What kind of racer does that, eh?”

Lando takes a deep breath, his media training kicking in as he forces a polite smile. “I’m sorry, mate, but we’re trying to have a private dinner here. Maybe we could chat another time?”

The man ignores him, his voice rising. “Nah, I wanna talk now. You know what? None of the greats would’ve done what you did today. Senna wouldn’t have moved over. Schumacher wouldn’t have. Hell, even Hamilton wouldn’t have.”

You can see Lando’s jaw clenching, his earlier good mood evaporating. “Look, I understand you’re upset, but-”

“Upset?” The man interrupts, laughing bitterly. “I’m not upset, I’m disappointed. You had a chance to prove yourself today, and you blew it. That’s why you’ll never be a world champion.”

The words hit Lando like a physical blow. You watch as he flinches, the doubt and self-recrimination from earlier flooding back into his eyes.

That’s when something inside you snaps.

You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. The restaurant goes quiet, all eyes turning to your table.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice calm but with an edge of steel, “but I think you need to leave. Now.”

The man turns his bleary gaze on you, a sneer twisting his features. “Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?”

You step closer, your eyes flashing with anger. “I’m someone who actually understands what happened out there today. Unlike you, who’s clearly talking out of your arse.”

Lando reaches for your hand, his voice low and urgent. “It’s okay, really. Let’s just ignore him.”

But you’re not about to let this go. Not when this drunken idiot is tearing down everything Lando’s worked so hard for.

“No, it’s not okay,” you say, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “This man,” you gesture to Lando, “drove an incredible race today. He started on pole, fought hard for every position, and when it came down to it, he put his team first. That takes more courage and integrity than you could ever understand.”

The drunk fan scoffs, but you’re not finished.

“You want to talk about the greats? Let’s talk about them. Senna, Schumacher, Hamilton — they all understood the importance of teamwork. They all had races where they had to make tough decisions for the good of the team. That’s part of what made them champions.”

You’re on a roll now, your voice rising with passion. “Lando didn’t give up today. He showed exactly why he’s one of the best drivers on the grid. He proved he can make the hard calls, that he understands the bigger picture. That’s what separates the good drivers from the great ones.”

The man opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “And you know what? The fact that you can’t see that says a lot more about you than it does about Lando. A true fan, a true lover of the sport, would understand the complexity of these decisions. They’d appreciate the skill and the emotional strength involved, not just blindly demand wins at any cost.”

The restaurant is dead silent now, everyone watching the confrontation unfold. Lando’s looking at you with a mixture of awe and affection, his earlier doubts forgotten in the face of your fierce defense.

The drunk fan, however, isn’t backing down. “Oh, spare me the lecture,” he sneers. “You’re just defending him because-”

You don’t let him finish. In one swift motion, you pick up your cocktail and dump it over the man’s head.

Gasps echo through the restaurant as the colorful liquid drips down the man’s face, soaking into his shirt. For a moment, he stands there in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“I think,” you say, your voice cold, “that you need to leave.”

The man splutters, wiping ineffectually at his face. “You ... you can’t ...”

“She can, and she did,” Lando says, standing up to join you. There’s a new confidence in his posture, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “And she’s right. About everything.”

The restaurant manager appears then, flanked by two burly waiters. “Sir,” he says to the drunk fan, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We don’t tolerate harassment of our guests.”

As the man is escorted out, still muttering under his breath, the tension in the room gradually dissipates. A few nearby diners even break into applause, offering you supportive smiles.

Lando turns to you, his eyes shining with a mixture of love and admiration. “That was ... wow. Just wow.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, the adrenaline of the moment starting to fade. “I’m sorry if I made a scene. I just couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”

Lando shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Are you kidding? That was incredible. I’ve never had anyone defend me like that before.”

The manager approaches your table, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that incident. Please, allow us to comp your meal and offer you a bottle of our finest champagne.”

Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say? Fancy celebrating for a change?”

You laugh, the last of the tension leaving your body. “Absolutely. Though maybe I should stick to water from now on. I seem to have misplaced my cocktail.”

As you settle back into your seats, the other diners returning to their own conversations, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand again.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “Not just for what you said to that guy, but for believing in me. Even when I struggle to believe in myself sometimes.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Always. You’re an incredible driver. But more than that, you’re an incredible person. That’s what I love most about you.”

Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through his chest that has nothing to do with the candlelight or the promise of champagne. “I love you too. More than I can put into words.”

As the waiter arrives with a bottle of champagne and fresh glasses, you raise your glass in a toast. “To Lando Norris,” you say, your voice full of pride, “future world champion and the best teammate anyone could ask for — on and off the track.”

Lando clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “And to you,” he adds, “my fiercest defender and the love of my life.”

As you sip your champagne, the earlier incident fades into the background. What remains is the warmth of your love for each other, the pride in what you’ve accomplished together, and the excitement for all that’s still to come.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter, good food, and quiet moments of affection. By the time you leave the restaurant, hand-in-hand, the difficulties of the race day seem like a distant memory.

As you walk back to the hotel, Lando pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You know,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “I think I might need to hire you as my official defender. You’re much scarier than any PR team.”

You laugh, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “Please, as if you could afford me.”

Lando grins, his arm tightening around you. “Oh, I think I could manage. How does a lifetime contract sound? All expenses paid, of course.”

Your heart skips a beat at the implication behind his words. “A lifetime, huh? That’s a pretty long time.”

Lando stops walking, turning to face you. In the soft glow of the streetlights, his eyes are full of love and certainty. “Not nearly long enough, if you ask me.”

***

The bedside lamp casts a dim light across the hotel room. Lando’s arm is draped lazily over your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you both bask in the comfortable silence. The events of the day seem far away now, eclipsed by the simple pleasure of being together.

“I think,” Lando murmurs, his voice heavy with contentment, “this might be my favorite part of race weekends.”

You turn slightly to face him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Even better than qualifying on pole?”

Lando grins, pulling you closer. “Well, maybe it’s a close second. But only because I get to do this every single night.”

You’re about to reply when Lando’s phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating with an incoming call. Lando groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “If that’s Andrea calling to debrief again, I swear ...”

But as he reaches for the phone, his eyes widen in surprise. “That’s ... weird.”

“What is it?” You ask, curiosity piqued by his reaction.

“It’s ... it’s Seb,” Lando says, his voice a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Sebastian Vettel.”

Before you can respond, Lando fumbles with the phone, his usual dexterity deserting him in his surprise. Somehow, he manages to not only drop the phone but also lose his balance, tumbling out of the bed with a yelp.

You can’t help but laugh as Lando scrambles on the floor, trying to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. “Hello? Seb?” He says breathlessly, still tangled in the bedsheets.

“Lando?” Sebastian’s familiar voice comes through the speaker, tinged with amusement. “Are you alright? It sounded like you were wrestling a bear there for a moment.”

Lando’s face flushes as he rights himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. “No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh, dropped the phone. Bit surprised to hear from you, to be honest.”

You scoot closer, curious about this unexpected call. Sebastian rarely reached out unless he was attending a race, which had become a once-a-season occurrence since his retirement.

“I can imagine,” Sebastian chuckles. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“No, not at all,” Lando assures him, even as you playfully poke his side. “What’s up, Seb?”

There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone becoming more serious. “I watched the race today. Quite a day you had, wasn’t it?”

Lando’s shoulders tense slightly, the memories of the race and its aftermath flooding back. “Yeah, it was ... intense.”

“I can imagine,” Sebastian says, his voice softening with understanding. “Team orders are never easy to deal with, especially when you’re fighting for the win.”

Lando nods, even though Sebastian can’t see him. “It’s just ... I don’t know. Part of me feels like I should have fought harder, you know? Maybe I gave in too easily.”

There’s a gentle sigh from Sebastian’s end. “Do you remember Multi 21?”

Lando’s brow furrows in confusion. “The incident with you and Mark Webber? At Malaysia in 2013?”

“That’s the one,” Sebastian confirms. “I was in a similar position to you today, but I made a different choice. And I want to talk to you about it, if that’s okay.”

Lando’s eyes widen, and he quickly puts the phone on speaker so you can hear too. “Of course, Seb. I’d really appreciate that.”

Sebastian’s voice fills the room, carrying the weight of experience. “Back then, I was young, hungry for success. When the team told me to hold position behind Mark, I ... well, I ignored them. I overtook him and won the race.”

“I remember watching that,” Lando says softly. “It was a big deal at the time.”

“It was,” Sebastian agrees. “And you know what? In the moment, it felt amazing. I won, I had proven I was the faster driver. But looking back now, I realize it came at a cost.”

You watch as Lando leans forward, hanging on Sebastian’s every word. “What do you mean?” He asks.

“It damaged the team’s trust in me,” Sebastian explains. “It strained my relationship with Mark, with the engineers, even with some of the fans. And more than that, it ... it wasn’t the right thing to do.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, processing this. “But you were racing. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Fight for every position?”

Sebastian’s laugh is gentle, understanding. “That’s what I told myself at the time. But being part of a team means sometimes putting the team’s needs above your own desires. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to apply in the heat of the moment.”

“So you think I made the right call today?” Lando asks, a hint of hope in his voice.

“I think you showed incredible maturity and team spirit,” Sebastian says firmly. “It’s not easy to give up a potential win, especially when you’re in the position to fight for it. But by doing so, you’ve strengthened your team, shown your commitment to the bigger picture.”

You can see Lando’s shoulders relaxing as Sebastian speaks, some of the doubt from earlier melting away.

“But what about the championship?” Lando asks. “Every point counts, and I gave up quite a few today.”

Sebastian’s voice takes on a thoughtful tone. “Championships aren’t won or lost in a single race. They’re built on consistency, on the strength of the team as a whole. What you did today? That builds the kind of trust and respect within a team that can carry you through an entire season.”

Lando nods slowly, his fingers intertwining with yours as he listens. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Plus,” Sebastian adds, a smile evident in his voice, “there’s something to be said for karma in this sport. The goodwill you build up? It has a way of coming back around when you least expect it.”

“You really think so?” Lando asks, a hint of his usual optimism creeping back into his voice.

“I know so,” Sebastian assures him. “I’ve seen it happen time and time again. The drivers who put the team first, who understand the bigger picture? They’re the ones who end up with long, successful careers. They’re the ones who become true champions.”

You squeeze Lando’s hand, seeing the impact Sebastian’s words are having on him.

“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says, his voice thick with emotion. “I really appreciate you calling. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Lando,” Sebastian replies warmly. “We’ve all been where you are. It’s important to support each other in this crazy world of Formula 1.”

There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone lighter. “Now, I hope you’re not spending the whole night dwelling on this. You’re in Budapest, after all. Beautiful city. Plenty to celebrate.”

Lando chuckles, some of his usual cheerfulness returning. “Don’t worry, we’ve been making the most of it. Even had a bit of excitement at dinner.”

“Oh?” Sebastian’s curiosity is piqued. “Do tell.”

Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s just say my girlfriend has a mean cocktail toss.”

You can’t help but laugh as Lando recounts the incident at the restaurant, Sebastian’s warm laughter joining yours through the phone.

“Sounds like you’ve found yourself a keeper there,” Sebastian says, his voice full of amusement and approval. “Don’t let that one go.”

Lando’s eyes meet yours. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to.”

As the call winds down, Sebastian’s tone becomes serious once more. “Remember, Lando. What you did today? That’s the mark of a true champion. Keep that spirit, that integrity, and you’ll go far in this sport. And in life.”

“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says softly. “Really, thank you.”

After they say their goodbyes and Lando hangs up, he sits there for a moment, still processing the conversation. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“You okay?” You ask gently.

Lando nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Actually, I’m better than okay. That was ... wow. I can’t believe Seb called just to talk about that.”

“He clearly thinks highly of you,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “And he’s right, you know. What you did today? It was pretty amazing.”

Lando turns to face you, his eyes shining with renewed confidence. “You know what? It was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still want to win. But maybe ... maybe there’s more than one way to be a champion.”

You smile, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s my Lando.”

As you both settle back into bed, Lando pulls you close, his voice soft in the darkness. “Thank you for being here through all of this. For defending me, for supporting me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You snuggle closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “You’d probably still be on the floor after falling out of bed,” you tease gently.

Lando’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Probably. Good thing I’ve got you to keep me grounded, then.”

***

The early morning sunlight streams through the large windows of the hotel’s breakfast area, shining over the scattered tables. The room buzzes with the quiet chatter of guests and the clink of cutlery against plates. At a corner table, a group of McLaren team members are huddled together, their conversation animated despite the early hour.

You spot them as you enter, your eyes immediately drawn to Will Joseph, Lando’s race engineer. He’s gesturing with a piece of toast, apparently deep in discussion about yesterday’s race. For a moment, you consider joining Lando for breakfast in your room, but the memory of Will’s voice over the team radio, pushing Lando to give up his position, makes you change course.

With a bright smile fixed on your face, you approach the table. “Good morning, everyone!” You say cheerfully, your voice causing the group to look up in surprise.

Will’s eyebrows raise slightly as he recognizes you. “Oh, good morning,” he replies, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Lando not with you?”

You shake your head, your smile never wavering. “He’s still getting ready. I thought I’d come down and grab us some coffee.” Your eyes lock onto Will’s. “Mind if I borrow you for a moment? I’d love to chat about yesterday’s race.”

The other team members exchange glances, sensing the underlying tension despite your cheerful demeanor. Will hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course, no problem.”

As Will stands to follow you to a nearby empty table, you turn to the others. “I promise I’ll return him in one piece,” you say with a wink, eliciting nervous chuckles from the group.

Once seated at the new table, you lean forward, your elbows resting on the surface, fingers interlaced. Your smile remains, but there’s a steely glint in your eyes that makes Will shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“So, Will,” you begin, your voice light and conversational, “quite a race yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Will nods, his posture stiff. “Yes, it was. A great result for the team, all things considered.”

“Mmm, indeed,” you agree, your head tilting slightly to one side. “A double podium. That’s certainly something to celebrate.” You pause, your smile growing a fraction wider. “Of course, it could have been even better, couldn’t it?”

Will’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Well, in racing, there’s always room for improvement, but-”

“Oh, I’m not talking about the racing, Will,” you interrupt smoothly. “I’m talking about your performance.”

Confusion flickers across Will’s face. “My performance?”

You nod, your expression one of exaggerated sympathy. “Your radio communications, to be specific. You know, I couldn’t help but notice how ... persistent you were with Lando yesterday.”

Will’s shoulders tense visibly. “I was just relaying the team’s strategy-”

“Were you?” You ask, your voice dripping with false innocence. “Because from where I was standing, it sounded an awful lot like emotional manipulation.”

Will’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up his neck. “ I... that wasn’t my intention at all. I was just doing my job.”

You lean back in your chair, your smile never faltering. “Your job is to support Lando, to help him perform at his best. Not to badger him into submission when he’s fighting for a win.”

“The team decision was-” Will starts, but you cut him off again.

“The team decision is one thing, Will. How you communicate that decision is another entirely.” Your voice drops lower, the cheerfulness giving way to a steely edge. “Do you have any idea what it does to Lando when you push him like that? When you make him doubt himself in the middle of a race?”

Will shifts uncomfortably, his breakfast forgotten. “I never meant to-”

“Of course you didn’t,” you say, your smile returning full force. “Which is why we’re having this little chat. So you can make sure it never happens again.”

Will’s brow furrows. “Are you ... are you threatening me?”

You laugh, the sound light and airy, completely at odds with the intensity of your gaze. “Threatening? Oh, Will, don’t be silly. I’m just having a friendly conversation with my boyfriend’s colleague. I’m simply pointing out that if I ever hear you speaking to Lando like that again, well ...” You pause, your smile widening to show teeth. “Let’s just say I can be very creative when it comes to protecting the people I love.”

Will swallows hard, his face pale. “I ... I understand.”

You clap your hands together, the sound making Will jump slightly. “Wonderful! I’m so glad we had this chat. It’s so important for the team to be on the same page, don’t you think?”

Before Will can respond, you stand up, your cheerful demeanor back in full force. “Well, I should get back to Lando. He’ll be wondering where his coffee is. Have a great day, Will!”

As you turn to leave, you pause, looking back over your shoulder. “Oh, and Will? Remember, Lando’s not just a driver. He’s a person. A brilliant, talented person who deserves respect and support. I trust you’ll keep that in mind next time you’re on the radio with him.”

With a final, dazzling smile, you walk away, leaving a stunned Will staring after you.

As you make your way to the coffee station, you can’t help but overhear snippets of conversation from the McLaren table.

“What was that about?” One of the engineers asks Will as he returns, looking slightly shell-shocked.

Will shakes his head, reaching for his water glass with a slightly trembling hand. “Just a friendly chat,” he mutters, his voice lacking conviction.

You smile to yourself as you pour two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to Lando’s just the way he likes it. As you head back to your room, you can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It might have been a bit dramatic, but if it means Lando gets the support he deserves on track, it’s worth it.

When you enter the room, Lando’s just finishing getting dressed, his hair still damp from the shower. He looks up as you enter, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“There you are,” he says, crossing the room to take one of the coffee cups from you. “I was starting to think you’d got lost on the way to the breakfast buffet.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just ran into some of the team downstairs. Thought I’d say good morning.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Oh yeah? Anyone in particular?”

You shrug, your expression innocent. “Oh, you know, just the usual suspects. Will was there.”

Lando’s eyes narrow slightly. “Will, huh? And how was that?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just a friendly chat. Nothing to worry about.”

Lando studies you for a moment, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story?”

You set your coffee down and wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Because you know me too well. But trust me, it’s nothing bad. I just ... may have had a little talk with Will about how he communicates with you during races.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “You didn’t ...”

“I did,” you confirm, your tone unapologetic. “Someone needed to say something. The way he was pushing you yesterday, it wasn’t right.”

For a moment, Lando looks torn between embarrassment and gratitude. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “You really are my fiercest defender, aren’t you?”

You grin, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of his hair. “Someone’s got to look out for you out there.”

Lando shakes his head, but his eyes are soft with affection. “You know I can fight my own battles, right?”

“Of course you can,” you agree. “But that doesn’t mean you have to fight them alone. We’re a team, remember?”

Lando pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, we are. The best team.”

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you can’t help but feel a surge of love and protectiveness. You know Lando is more than capable of handling himself, both on and off the track. But if you can make things even a little bit easier for him, if you can ensure he gets the support and respect he deserves, then you’ll do whatever it takes.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what love is. It’s standing up for each other, supporting each other, and facing the world together — whether that world is the circuits of Formula 1 or the quiet moments in a hotel room.

And as Lando looks at you, his eyes full of love and gratitude, you know you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Because he’s worth it. He’s worth everything.

[zaczenemiji]

Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle

[zhelin-thames]

Death’s Gentle Touch

@demonic0angel thank you for letting me write this.

Ps. This is not a dead silent ship but a dead on main ship. I am way too much of a dead tired, dead on main and dead serious fan🫣, so..... Srry😇

Danny hadn’t planned on staying in Gotham for long. The city was overwhelming, a swirling mess of emotions, crime, and shadows that never seemed to sleep. But something about it called to him—a faint pull in the back of his mind, like the restless murmur of ghosts who hadn’t yet crossed his path.

And then he started noticing them.

The kids.

Each one had a presence that whispered of death’s touch. Not full-on ghostly, but close. Too close. It tugged at Danny’s core, a strange mix of familiarity and concern. The first was a quiet boy, barely seven, with hollow eyes and a haunted expression. Danny found him huddled in the shadows of Crime Alley, shivering and alone.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. He couldn’t leave the kid there.

And so, the warehouse became home.

The old building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but Danny had poured what little ecto-energy he could spare into reinforcing it, patching up leaks, and making it livable. Inside, it was surprisingly cozy. Rugs covered the cold floor, mismatched furniture filled the space, and shelves lined with books and trinkets added a sense of warmth.

Within weeks, Danny’s little family had grown.

Five kids now called the warehouse home, each one with a story that left Danny seething with quiet rage. Abusive parents, neglectful guardians, and the harsh streets of Gotham had taken their toll on each of them. Danny couldn’t fix the past, but he could offer them something better: safety, warmth, and the promise that they’d never be alone again.

One of the kids, Sam, was from one of Gotham’s elite families. He’d run away after his parents’ cruelty pushed him too far. When Danny had found him, Sam had been too weak to argue.

It was Cassandra Cain who stumbled upon them.

She’d been tracking a lead on a missing child—the wealthy parents had finally reported Sam missing after weeks, though their concern had seemed more for appearances than genuine worry. Her trail led her to the refurbished warehouse.

Cass slipped inside silently, her every movement a shadow. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Danny was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a tattered storybook in his hands. The five kids were gathered around him, leaning against him or huddled close, their faces rapt with attention. Danny’s voice was soft, animated, bringing the story to life.

“...and the brave knight faced the dragon, not with a sword, but with kindness.” Danny smiled, looking down at the youngest child, a girl clutching his arm. “Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is try to understand someone else.”

Cass didn’t move for a moment.

The scene was so achingly peaceful, so pure, that it seemed impossible in a city like Gotham. She could feel the protective energy radiating from Danny, the way the kids seemed to trust him implicitly. It wasn’t just a man taking care of children. He was their anchor, their safe harbor.

Still, she stepped forward.

Danny looked up, his glowing green eyes meeting hers. For a second, Cass tensed, ready for a fight. But Danny’s expression softened, and he raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You must be one of the Bats.”

Cass tilted her head, curious but cautious. “Who... are you?”

“I’m Danny,” he replied simply, closing the book. “And these are my kids.”

Her gaze flickered to the children. Sam had tensed at her presence, but Danny placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’re safe here,” Danny continued, his voice calm but firm. “I promise. I know you’re probably here for him.” He nodded toward Sam. “But he ran for a reason. And I’m not about to let anyone hurt him again.”

Cass reported back to Bruce and the others. The revelation sparked an intense debate in the Batcave.

“He’s just a kid himself!” Damian snapped, glaring at the screen showing Danny’s image. “What gives him the right to take in strays like this?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Tim muttered, earning a scowl from Damian.

Bruce, arms crossed, studied the footage Cass had captured. Danny’s protective aura was undeniable, as was the bond he’d formed with the children. “We need to know more about him,” Bruce said. “His intentions, his background, his... abilities.”

Jason leaned against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re just mad someone’s beating you at the whole ‘adopting strays’ thing, B.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Jason, perhaps we should focus on how best to ensure the children’s well-being.”

When the Bats finally confronted Danny in the warehouse, they were met with calm defiance. Danny stood his ground, the kids huddled behind him.

“I get it,” he said, arms crossed. “You’re the big, bad vigilantes of Gotham. But these kids? They’re not just cases or numbers. They’re people. And they deserve better than what the system gave them.”

Bruce stepped forward. “We’re not here to take them from you. But this isn’t sustainable. You’re their age. How do you plan to provide for them long-term?”

Danny hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Jason, watching the exchange, stepped closer. “What’s your deal, Danny? You’re not just some random guy.”

Danny met his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jason smirked. “Try me.”

The Bats weren’t ones to leave mysteries unsolved, and Danny wasn’t about to spill his life story to a group of masked vigilantes without some trust first. It took weeks of cautious interactions and reluctant cooperation for things to come to light.

It was Jason who finally got Danny to open up.

One night, after dropping off a bag of supplies Bruce had insisted the kids needed, Jason stayed behind. He found Danny on the roof of the warehouse, leaning against the railing as he stared at the Gotham skyline. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city.

“So,” Jason began, hopping onto the ledge beside him. “You’re not just some ordinary kid with a big heart. What’s your story?”

Danny let out a long sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

For a moment, Danny said nothing. Then he raised his hand, letting a soft green glow surround it. “You ever hear of Amity Park?”

Jason frowned. “The town with all those ghost rumors? Thought it was a bunch of tabloid nonsense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Danny said, his voice quieter now. “I grew up there. My parents were... ghost hunters. They built a portal to another dimension—the Infinite Realms. Something went wrong, and I ended up... connected to it. Half-ghost, half-human.”

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “Half-ghost? Like, you died?”

“Sort of.” Danny’s tone was light, but his eyes reflected the weight of the experience. “It’s complicated. I didn’t plan to stick around Gotham, but then I started noticing these kids—how close they were to death, how much they’d suffered. I couldn’t just leave them.”

Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re a weird guy, Danny. But I get it.”

Danny smirked. “Thanks, I think.”

Each child Danny had taken in had their own struggles, their own pain that had led them to him.

Sam: The son of a wealthy Gotham family, Sam had been raised in luxury but at a terrible cost. His parents cared more about appearances than his well-being, and the pressure to be perfect had been crushing. When Danny found him, Sam had been wandering the streets, bruised and desperate for escape.

Mia: A street-smart girl with a sharp tongue, Mia had grown up in foster care, bouncing between homes that never cared for her. She’d survived on her own for months before Danny found her, stealing food to survive.

Leo: Barely six, Leo had been abandoned in Crime Alley. He didn’t speak much, but he clung to Danny like a lifeline.

Ella: A bright-eyed girl with an affinity for art, Ella had been living in a condemned building with her older brother, who’d died protecting her. Danny found her crying over his body, her face pale and haunted.

Max: A quiet, thoughtful boy who had a near-death experience after falling into Gotham River. His brush with death had left him sensitive to the supernatural, and he’d been drawn to Danny almost instinctively.

Danny had given them all a second chance, teaching them to trust again. The warehouse became their safe haven, a place where they could heal.

Despite their initial skepticism, the Bats couldn’t deny that Danny was doing good. Bruce offered resources to help with the kids, on the condition that Danny let them monitor the situation.

“I’m not looking to turn this into a charity case,” Danny had said. “I just want what’s best for them.”

“And that’s what we’re offering,” Bruce replied evenly. “Whether you like it or not, we’re invested now.”

Danny found himself working with the Bats more often, whether it was coordinating efforts to help other at-risk kids or teaming up with them during ghost-related incidents.

Cass became a frequent visitor, quietly helping with the children and bonding with Danny over their shared love of storytelling. Tim couldn’t resist asking questions about ghost tech and the Infinite Realms, while Damian begrudgingly admitted that Danny wasn’t as useless as he’d assumed.

Jason, however, became Danny’s closest ally. The two shared a mutual understanding, both having faced death and come back changed.

Years passed, and the warehouse evolved. The children grew, some eventually striking out on their own while others stayed close. Danny became a pillar of the community, the once-abandoned warehouse now a thriving community center.

Jason remained a constant presence in Danny’s life. Their friendship deepened, and somewhere along the way, it turned into something more.

The wedding was a quiet affair, held in the Infinite Realms. The guests were a mix of humans and ghosts, an unusual but fitting reflection of Danny and Jason’s lives.

Sam, Mia, Leo, Ella, and Max—now young adults—stood by Danny’s side, their smiles bright and proud. The Bats, dressed in uncharacteristically formal attire, watched with a mix of fondness and exasperation as Jason said his vows.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at a family,” Jason said, his voice steady but soft. “But with you, Danny, I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

Danny smiled, his eyes glowing faintly. “And I found a home—in Gotham, in these kids, and in you. You’re stuck with me now, Jason.”

As they exchanged rings, the Infinite Realms shimmered around them, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they’d forged.

And as they stepped into their future together, hand in hand, they knew they’d face whatever came next—together, as a family.

Over the years, Danny and Jason’s “kids” grew into remarkable young adults, each finding their own path while staying connected to the family they had built together.

Sam: The Voice for Justice

Sam’s upbringing in Gotham’s elite circles gave him unique insight into the city’s upper class. As an adult, he used that knowledge to challenge the corruption ingrained in Gotham’s wealthy families.

By day, Sam became a successful lawyer, taking on cases for those who couldn’t afford proper representation. By night, he used his connections to help Danny and Jason uncover and dismantle illegal operations hidden behind Gotham’s polished facade.

Despite his serious demeanor, Sam never forgot the kindness Danny showed him. He often visited the community center to mentor at-risk kids, giving them the guidance he wished he’d had.

Mia: The Protector

Mia’s sharp tongue and street smarts made her a natural fighter. She trained with Cass and Damian, honing her skills until she became a formidable vigilante known as Specterblade.

Unlike most of Gotham’s protectors, Mia embraced her ghostly side. Danny taught her how to channel ectoplasmic energy, giving her an edge in combat. She patrolled the streets with a ferocity that even Damian respected, targeting human traffickers and abusers with relentless determination.

Though she worked in the shadows, Mia also took an active role at the community center, running self-defense classes for women and teens.

Leo: The Guardian of the Realms

Leo’s quiet nature hid a deep connection to the Infinite Realms. Over time, his near-death experience evolved into a unique ability to sense disturbances between dimensions.

Danny noticed this early on and trained Leo to become a Realmwalker, a protector of the delicate balance between the mortal world and the Infinite Realms. Leo embraced the role, splitting his time between Gotham and the ghostly dimension.

He became a key figure in handling supernatural threats that even the Justice League struggled with. Though he was often away, Leo remained fiercely loyal to his family, returning whenever they needed him.

Ella: The Healer

Ella’s love for art evolved into a passion for design and restoration. She studied architecture and urban planning, eventually becoming a key figure in revitalizing Gotham’s neglected neighborhoods.

Her ghostly sensitivity gave her a unique perspective on spaces and their emotional resonance, which she used to create safe, welcoming environments. The community center was her first major project, and she expanded its reach with satellite locations across the city.

Ella’s gentle spirit made her a comforting presence in the family, and she often acted as the mediator when tensions ran high.

Max: The Tech Genius

Max’s brush with death left him fascinated by technology and its potential to change lives. He became a brilliant engineer, blending ghost tech and human innovation to create devices that pushed the boundaries of possibility.

Working alongside Tim, Max developed tools to help Gotham’s vigilantes fight crime more efficiently. He also created gadgets to help people with disabilities, inspired by the struggles he witnessed during his time on the streets.

Max was the quiet brain behind many of the family’s operations, preferring to let his work speak for itself.

Despite their busy lives, the kids never forgot their roots. They visited the warehouse-turned-community center regularly, helping Danny and Jason with new initiatives and staying connected to the city that had once failed them.

Family dinners were a chaotic but cherished tradition, with everyone gathering around the table to share stories, tease each other, and reaffirm their bond.

In their own ways, each of Danny and Jason’s kids carried on their legacy of hope, proving that even in a city as dark as Gotham, second chances could bloom into something extraordinary.

I might make this a series and show each kids journey. Hope you guys liked it.

[greengoblinswifey]

Home For Christmas—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— your boyfriend, Luigi, recently extradited to New York, faces a court hearing just days before Christmas, leaving you heartbroken and unsure if he'll make it home. against all odds, he is granted bail and surprises you by coming home for Christmas.

warnings—none! lots of fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— My dms and asks have been blowing up with you guys clamoring for more Luigi content, so I decided to whip something up, enjoy <3. I truly don’t believe Luigi is guilty and would’ve hoped he would be home for Christmas :( I hope he gets out soon and won’t be sentenced.

The courtroom doors creaked open, and your breath hitched as Luigi walked in, surrounded by officers. He wore a burgundy sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, its collar peeking at the edges. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and even though he looked composed, you could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the toll of the weeks apart was evident.

His gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. His steps faltered briefly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You felt your chest tighten as he looked at you like you were the one ray of light in an otherwise dim world.

“Amore,” he mouthed, his voice soft even though you couldn’t hear it.

You couldn’t hold back your emotions. You smiled, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over, and blew him a kiss. Luigi grinned in return, his confidence slipping back into place as though the sight of you gave him strength.

It had been weeks since you’d seen him, weeks of navigating the unbearable distance after his extradition to New York. Every call had been short, every letter cherished, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him.

When he was seated at the defendant’s table, Luigi tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “You came,” he whispered, his voice carrying an unmistakable mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

“Always,” you mouthed back.

The hearing began, the air in the room heavy as his lawyer argued for his release on bail. You knew the evidence was thin, there wasn’t enough to convict him of the CEO’s murder, but the stakes were still high. The very thought of him being sentenced, of losing him, made your heart clench.

During a brief recess, Luigi’s lawyer gestured for you to come forward. You hesitated for only a moment before making your way to the front, the officers giving you a wary glance but letting you pass.

As you approached, Luigi’s eyes softened, and he reached out slightly, his cuffed hands resting on the table. “Amore,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back tears. “I missed you too, Lulu. More than anything.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry for all of this. For putting you through this. But you’ve kept me going.”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re coming home, Luigi. I’ve talked to your lawyer, and we’ve worked everything out. The judge is going to grant bail. You’ll be home for Christmas.”

Luigi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Two days, just two more days.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to compose himself. “You’re my everything,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve you, but I swear, I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it all right.”

Before you could respond, the bailiff called for everyone to return to their seats. You reluctantly pulled away, but not before squeezing his hand one last time.

The judge’s decision came swiftly, Luigi would be released on bail, just in time for Christmas. As the words registered, you felt the weight you’d been carrying for weeks lift. Luigi turned to you, his eyes shining with relief and love.

“Looks like I’ll get to spend Christmas with my amore,” he said, his voice soft yet triumphant.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled through your tears, nodding.

When you finally got home that evening, the reality of it all hit you. Luigi was coming home in just two days. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes as you stepped into your apartment, flicking on the lights.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room, and you froze in your tracks. Underneath the tree, there was a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there before. You blinked in confusion until you noticed a note placed delicately on the coffee table.

It was from Luigi’s lawyer.

Amore, the note read in Luigi’s familiar handwriting. I didn’t know if I’d make it home for Christmas, so I asked someone to help me make sure you were taken care of. I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas, even if I wasn’t there to share it with you. I love you.

You smiled, your heart aching with love as you knelt by the tree. The gifts were wrapped neatly, clearly not by Luigi himself and labeled with little tags in his messy handwriting. Your favorite perfume. A set of Victoria’s Secret lingerie and a cute silk pajama set. A cashmere sweater in your favorite color. A pair of designer heels you’d been eyeing for months but would never have splurged on.

Tears welled up as you unwrapped each thoughtful gift, your fingers trembling slightly. He’d thought of everything, even when he wasn’t sure he’d be here to see you open them.

Two days later, you stood at your front door, waiting as the sound of a car pulling up outside made your heart race. When the door opened, and Luigi stepped inside, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Lulu!” you cried, throwing yourself into his arms.

He dropped his bag instantly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Amore,” he murmured, “I’m home.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his sharp jawline. “I missed you so so much,” you whispered before pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss.

Luigi groaned softly, pulling you even closer until your feet barely touched the ground. His hands slipped to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips and giving your ass a squeeze. “I missed everything about you,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” you teased, your fingers threading through his curls.

He smirked, his eyes darkening slightly. “Trust me, amore. I have no intention of being away from you ever again.”

The night continued with kisses and lingering touches all over. You showed Luigi the gifts you’d gotten him, a rare set of books he’d been searching for, a sleek leather jacket that fit him perfectly, and an intimate surprise, a pair of silk boxers with pictures of your face all over it.

Luigi laughed when he opened them, pulling you onto his lap as he held the boxers up. “Really, amore?” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs.

“What? I thought you’d like them,” you said innocently, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“I love them,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he kissed your neck.

The two of you spent the night cuddled on the couch, watching Christmas movies and sharing a blanket as the tree lights twinkled softly in the background.

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll always wait for you, Luigi. You’re my home.”

Christmas morning was a quiet and cozy. The smell of hot chocolate and marshmallows filled the living room as you stretched out on the couch in your matching pajamas, wrapped in one of Luigi’s arms. His other hand rested on your knee, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the fabric.

“Good morning, amore,” he said, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied softly, his gaze warm.

Under the tree, there were more gifts to unwrap. Luigi insisted you go first, sitting back with a grin as you tore into one of his carefully wrapped presents. It was another beautifully thoughtful gift—an engraved gold bracelet with the words Sempre il mio cuore (Always my heart).

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his tone suddenly vulnerable.

You nodded quickly, slipping it onto your wrist before throwing your arms around his neck. “I love it, Lulu. I love you.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good. Because I saw it, and I thought of you. Always my heart, amore. Always.”

You gave him a box that held an expensive perfume set he had been eyeing but never expected to have. Another had a small, vintage journal with an inscription from yourself inside the front cover, For the stories you’ll write one day.

The next gift made him grin even wider, a vintage Italian cookbook, filled with recipes you knew he loved.

“You spoil me,” he teased, leaning over to kiss you softly.

“Now I can teach you how to make the perfect lasagna,” he teased, flipping through the pages before looking up at you. “Thank you, amore. This is perfect.”

The day passed in a happy blur of laughter and kisses. You spent the afternoon in the kitchen, making Luigi’s favorite Italian dish, spaghetti alla carbonara, while he stayed close by, sneaking bites of the ingredients and kissing your cheek whenever he passed.

“You're going to burn the pasta if you keep distracting me,” you warned, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Let it burn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’d rather taste you than the pasta anyway.”

“Luigi!” you protested, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Dinner was perfect, and afterward, the two of you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies you’d baked together. The promise ring on your finger glinted in the light of the tree as Luigi traced the outline of it with his thumb.

“Do you know why I got you that?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

You glanced at him, your head resting on his chest. “Why?”

“Because I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m yours. Forever,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Even when things got bad, when I was in a prison cell, all I thought about was you. You’re the reason I fought so hard to come home.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Luigi.”

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows over the room. Luigi held you close, his hand tangled in your curls as he murmured sweet nothings in Italian.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so safe, so loved.

For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt like it should, celebration of love, laughter, and the promise of a future you’d both fight for.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

THIRD TRIMESTER

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe 

Warnings: Stress and anxiety during pregnancy

Summary: Rafe defends you, pregnancy stress causes emotional pain

The third trimester had come faster than you anticipated, and with it came a series of emotions, both overwhelming and beautiful. You were now heavily pregnant, your body changing in ways that made you feel like you were barely holding onto yourself, but all the while, Rafe was there, supporting you through every step. The two of you had recently moved into a new house, a small but cozy place where you could begin your life together as a family. It was everything you’d dreamed of—well, almost everything.

-

There was still the issue of Rafe’s father, who hadn’t made it easy on you. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he’d been openly critical of your decision to start a family so young.

“I don’t know why you’d want to keep the baby. You’re barely out of high school,” his voice echoed in your mind as you sat on the couch in your new home, wrapping your arms around your belly. “And you think you’re ready to raise a child? Wait until you see what comes out of her, Rafe. She won’t even look the same, and it’s not like she’ll go back to being skinny after all that. You really want to deal with that?”

You could still feel the sting of his words, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something hurtful about your pregnancy, but it always hit hard. Rafe had defended you every time, but it never seemed to be enough to quiet the doubts you had. His dad’s comments made you second-guess everything, even your own self-worth, even when you knew deep down it wasn’t true.

Rafe had been there, as always, but that didn’t stop the growing anxiety within you. Every time his father would make a comment, it would take everything inside you not to cry or snap back. But today, something inside you broke. You had been unpacking boxes when you overheard another comment from Rafe’s dad, and it sent you spiraling. You knew Rafe wasn’t home, so you found yourself collapsing on the couch in tears, holding your belly as your emotions threatened to take over.

Just as the pain of the words sank deeper, the door to the living room opened, and Rafe stepped in, looking concerned. His eyes softened as soon as he saw your face, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach in distress.

“Baby?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

Through shaky breaths, you tried to explain. “I just... I just can’t take it anymore. He keeps saying I’m too young, and it’s like he doesn’t believe I can do this. He’s always saying that things are going to change after labor, that you won’t even look at me the same way... I feel like I’m not good enough for this baby.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched with anger, but his face softened as he gently cupped your face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? You are everything I could ever need. You’re the mother of my child, and nothing—nothing—will change that. Not the way you look, not what happens after labor. You could go through the toughest thing in the world, and I would still love you with everything I have. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You looked into Rafe’s eyes, your heart aching at his words, but the anxiety and emotional turmoil didn’t subside. You couldn’t stop crying. You wanted to be strong, but everything just felt so heavy. The emotional strain was overwhelming, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

Rafe’s protective instincts kicked in. His voice was steady but urgent as he pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. Take a few deep breaths. We’re okay. I’m here. The baby’s okay.”

But as you tried to steady your breathing, it felt impossible. You couldn’t calm down. The tears kept coming, and your chest tightened painfully. The stress had taken its toll, and you could feel it radiating through your body. Your heartbeat was erratic, and your baby seemed to be reacting too. The panic only deepened.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, clutching your chest, the pain intensifying. You were hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in fear as he frantically grabbed his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. It’s going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and rushed into the house. They assessed the situation quickly, asking questions and checking on both you and the baby. Rafe was by your side the whole time, holding your hand tightly, his face pale with worry.

Once you were in the ambulance, the pain started to subside, but your body still felt weak and shaky. The journey to the hospital felt long and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep fear of what might be happening to you and the baby.

At the hospital, the doctors quickly ran tests, checking the baby’s heartbeat and your vitals. They explained that what you were experiencing was likely a panic attack, brought on by stress and the emotional pressure you had been under. It wasn’t something to be alarmed about, but they strongly advised you to stay calm in the coming weeks to prevent any further stress on the baby.

“You need to take care of yourself, both physically and emotionally,” the doctor said gently. “The next few weeks are crucial for both you and the baby. Stress can affect your health and the baby’s development. You need to avoid any situations that could increase that anxiety.”

Rafe was at your side, holding your hand tightly as the doctor finished speaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure she’s calm. I’ll keep her safe.”

You felt the sincerity in his voice, and although you still felt a little shaken, hearing him promise to be there for you made everything feel a bit more manageable.

As you were discharged and brought back to your new home, Rafe stayed close, making sure to comfort you and help you get settled back on the couch. He insisted that you rest, assuring you that everything would be okay. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his care, feeling more grateful than ever that he was by your side.

“Don’t worry about anything else, baby,” Rafe said softly as he kissed the top of your head. “We’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one.”

[sheerfreesia007]

Moves Too Quick

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 2,587

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Han is coming to terms with his feelings for you, his best friend. What happens when he sees you in a bikini of his favorite movie?

Part Two: One Piece of My Heart

Nae Sarang: My Love, Gongjunim: Princess

Han laughed loudly as he watched Changbin grab onto Hyunjin and pretend to throw him into the pool as the taller boy tried to stay on the pool deck. The group of them were all gathered to hang out at the pool to try and stay cool in the heat wave that they were experiencing right now. It was supposed to be a fun filled day but Han was a little on edge with the addition of you to their group.

Lee Know had made the decision to invite you along to the pool day without letting anyone know until about a half hour before you were all supposed to meet up. Normally it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to come hang out with them but lately Han had been struggling with his feelings towards you. You were beautiful and so sweet and kind to all of them that he had found himself falling hard for you and trying to keep up with his growing affection for you. And while you hadn’t caught onto his emerging emotions the other boys had and used every opportunity possible to tease him about it.

There had been a few times when he thought you had understood what the boys were teasing him about but you never said anything and while he was thankful for that it was always maddening because he kind of wanted to just rip the bandaid off and see what happened. But then his anxiety would rise up and nearly seize his insides and keep him in a chokehold. He hated this constantly flopping back and forth with his emotions and needing to express them but not being ready to hear the rejection he was sure you’d give him. It was starting to take a toll on him. He hated this constant state of being on edge or anxious around you.

Han darted his eyes around his friends for a moment before he spotted you talking to Lee Know looking a little nervous about something. He wondered idly what you had to be so nervous about but when he saw Lee Know put a soft hand on your shoulder and say something to you that he couldn’t hear he felt his chest stutter with air. You looked so unsure of yourself and Han instantly wanted to reassure you with whatever it was that made you nervous and unsure.

You nodded at Lee Know for a moment before taking a step back and quickly slipping your baggy t-shirt off your body. Han felt his mouth go dry as he saw the bikini top covering your torso, it had some sort of pattern on it but it was held together with thin straps that hooked at your back and behind your neck. Not to mention the image you made wearing a pair of baggy basketball shorts that made you look so tiny and precious that Han’s heart thudded heavily in his chest.

”You’re drooling.” Chan says softly and Han immediately wipes at his mouth as Chan and Changbin laugh at him teasingly. He scowls and shoves Chan away from him as Changbin cackles loudly at him. Han moves to shove Chan again as the older man wiggles his eyebrows at him but he’s instantly halted when your sweet voice speaks up.

”Hey fellas.” You greet them and Han turns to you with a soft smile on his face while Chan and Changbin chuckle knowingly at the younger man before happily greeting you.

“Hi Gongjunim!” greets Changbin as he wraps you in a tight hug before lifting you off your feet slightly making you squeal softly as your arms wrap around his neck. Your laughter is infectious as Chan and Han both grin at the display of affection Changbin has for you before he’s setting you back on your feet making you wobble slightly. Han reaches out to stabilize you but Chan beats him to it as he holds your elbow steady letting you find your balance as you grin up at the older man.

“That’s a pretty bathing suit.” Chan says suddenly and Han frowns at him quickly before his head turns and he gets a good look at your bikini. His eyes widen into big saucers when he notices that the bikini has different scenes from Howl’s Moving Castle all over it and he feels his brain turn to mush, you knew his favorite Studio Ghibli movie was Howl’s Moving Castle the two of you had plenty of movie nights where you’d both debate the pros and cons of all the Studio Ghibli movies. He knew your favorite was Spirited Away, which made him wonder why you hadn’t chosen to buy a bikini with that movie’s scenes on it.

“Thanks! It was a toss up between this one and Spirited Away to wear today. Felt like Sophie today.” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders and a soft smile on your face. Han’s eyes dart over your body and feels himself grow warm at your explanation as he smiles adoringly at you. You’re beautiful in that easy unbothered way that he loves about you, and while he still feels conflicted with his emotions he can’t help but be drawn to you and how relaxed you make him feel just by being you.

“You look hot!” he says boldly and silence falls over the pool area as your eyes widen while a pretty red blush creeps across your body starting from your exposed chest. Chan and Changbin gape at him while you duck your head embarrassedly as Han suddenly freezes with panic. “I-I I mean.” he begins to stutter softly when suddenly Seungmin and Jeongin burst out in loud laughter. Han watches as you turn to them still blushing to scowl at them as they continue to laugh. “I’m so sorry.” Han says softly before he jumps into the pool to get away from the awkward situation, he swims to the far corner of the pool where Felix and Hyunjin are hanging out. Felix immediately reassures him as Seungmin and Jeongin still laugh loudly, Han doesn’t look at you as he feels his whole body heating with the hot flush of his embarrassment but out of the corner of his eyes he can see Lee Know at your side saying something to you as you nod your head.

It’s later in the day and the hangout is starting to wind down, Han has successfully avoided you ever since he blurted out that he thought you were hot earlier. Though he has caught on that you’ve also been avoiding being near him as well as you played and relaxed in the pool with the others. He felt bad about avoiding you but he felt even worse when he realized that you were giving him space and not being as close to him as you normally were.

Han watched from his spot in the corner of the pool as you and Hyunjin laughed at something Changbin said while lounging on the steps of the pool. Your head was tossed back and the muscles in your neck were on display to him, making his body heat with desire and affection for you. Suddenly Jeongin calls for you as he’s standing over by the lounge chairs letting you know that your cell phone is ringing, Han watches as you scramble out of the pool and quickly race for your cell phone, able to grab it before it stops ringing. They all watch as you talk to whoever is on the other line before you nod and hang up the phone.

“Alright guys, I’ve gotta get going. One of my girlfriends needs me to help her with something.” you tell them with a bright smile on your face. Han feels instant disappointment that you’re leaving already but he follows the boys out of the pool to say goodbye to you. You’re quickly drying yourself off as Lee Know and Chan say goodbye to you while giving you big hugs and thanking you for joining them today. The rest of the boys are slow to say their goodbyes and Han watches quietly as you easily slip on your clothes once more before storing away your towel in your backpack. You turn and hug Seungmin and Hyunjin quickly before your eyes darted over to Han and he perks up a little bit. “Walk me to my car Ji?” you ask him with a soft smile on your face. He eagerly nods his head and feels his chest puff up importantly as you give him your attention.

“Of course.” he responds and slips his sandals on before guiding you to the gate that leads to the parking lot. The two of you are quiet as you wave one last time at the boys as they all yell goodbye to you causing you to chuckle and smile at their antics. You then turn your head and smile brightly at Han and he responds with his own wide smile as you fall into step next to each other. YOur eyes crinkle at the sides and Han feels his heart thud heavily in his chest, you’re too cute for his sanity and he can’t seem to control himself now. “I’m sorry. For earlier.” he says suddenly and you look at him with furrowed eyebrows before your face clears and you smile softly before ducking your head and chuckling. He can see your blush coming back and he feels his panic start to return as his hands come up to try and assuage your embarrassment and his panic.

“It’s okay Ji.” you say fondly to him as you smile softly at him. Your face is still sporting your pretty blush but your smile is kind and the sparkle in your eyes is teasing. He watches as you turn to face him while walking backwards towards your car and he picks up his pace to make sure that you don’t trip or fall as you continue walking to your car as you smile warmly at him. “I know your mouth moves too fast for your brain sometimes. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable though.” you say with a shrug of your shoulders and Han stumbles slightly at your words. You were worried more about him being uncomfortable than him just blurting out that you were hot? He can feel the warmth in his body from his panic earlier start to melt his insides at how considerate you were of him. He should’ve known that his words would just roll off your back and he shouldn’t have been embarrassed, you knew just as well as he knew you. It’s not like this was the first time his mouth had gotten him into the hot seat with you. But he wanted you to know that what he said earlier was the truth for him, he thought you looked hot and gorgeous in your bikini. So once again he let his mouth get the better of him.

“It’s the truth though. You looked so good in your bikini.” he said truthfully as his eyes focused on yours and you nodded at him with a pleased smile on your face. Suddenly your back hit the back passenger door of your car and you looked over your shoulder at your car before turning back to him.

“Thanks Ji.” you said, sounding thankful of his words as your cheeks were dusted pink at his compliment.

“Why did you choose Howl’s and not Spirited?” he asked curiously as he remembered that you had mentioned having bought two bathing suits with the two movies on them. He watched as your eyes widened slightly before you turned your head to the side and chuckled softly as if you were embarrassed.

“Well you see Lee Know’s been on my case about being honest about my feelings lately and I thought if I wore a bikini with your favorite movie on it then it’d give me courage.” you explained to him and he tilted his head to the side confused on what you were trying to say.

“Courage for what?” he asked and you smiled shyly down at your feet as he took a step closer to you.

“Courage to confess to you how I feel about you.” you said softly and Han’s breath stuttered out of his chest as his thoughts fell into chaos at your soft admission. He licked his suddenly dry lips as his eyes danced across your downturned face trying to connect with your eyes but you weren’t allowing him to.

“And how do you feel about me?” he asked breathlessly and you grimaced softly before smiling adoringly down at the ground.

“I’m in love with you Ji.” you say softly as your face turns up to stare at him with soft adoring eyes. “But I don’t want to pressure you or anything.” you say quickly as you raise your hands to hang in the air shaking between the two of you. “I adore you and feel so comfortable and safe with you but I won’t push for anything more than friends if you don’t like me back.” you reassure him and he feels his heart seize in his chest before it begins to race double time. You were in love with him, you were in love with him. Han felt like he was on cloud nine as he stared at you with wide eyes as his mouth dropped open slightly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make this weird or awkward!” you say suddenly and Han quickly shakes his head as he sees you begin to panic at his quietness.

“No!” he suddenly bursts out and you stare at him surprised as he cages you against your car. His arms come up to bracket you in and you stare at him with wide shocked eyes. “Please, give me one second. My mind is racing.” he pleads softly and you smile fondly at him before nodding your head slowly. You settle against your car and Han takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you for the past few weeks.” he starts to explain. “You’re my best friend and I’ve started to feel like I’ve wanted more than just friendship lately. I want more than just cuddles during movie night, I want to be able to press kisses to your lips and skin without it being weird. I want to spend the night with you just holding you close to me. I want to take you on cute couple dates where no one else matters but each other. I want all of it with you.” he confesses softly and feels his heart sing inside his chest as he sees the blossoming grin on your face as your eyes sparkle excitedly. “I’m in love with you too nae sarang.” he whispers to you and he suddenly feels your hands grip his damp t-shirt before you pull him forward up against you as your lips press to his in a chaste kiss. He grunts against your mouth before you pull away to rest your forehead against his as you grin widely at him.

“Sorry my mouth moved too quickly for my brain there for a second.” you tease him and Han chuckles softly before cupping your face and pressing another soft chaste kiss to your mouth.

“We both have that problem huh?” he asks goodnaturedly and you chuckle at him before nodding your head eagerly with sparkling eyes.

[minquv]

➽ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

☁ Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁Synopsis: He excludes you every time he's with her, and now he's living with the consequences of his actions, weighed down by their heavy toll.

☁ Note: It looks better in my head, lmao. I got back into writing after school ended. Still preparing for 12th grade, I'm scared. Good luck reading this. Let me know how it goes. 06/12/2024

Do you not see me?

You stood in the field of glaze lilies, the soft night breeze gently caressing your skin, a sense of isolation surrounded you. The silence was deafening, save for the voices of the divine beings before you, talking as if you were not there. It was as if they were lost in the charms of the evening, indifferent to your presence.

You knew that going with Morax was a foolish decision the moment you realized that the God of Dust, Guizhong, would also be there. You shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have gone. But your heart would not permit you to resist the urge to spend time with the man you've always loved, even though it may not have been the wisest course of action.

Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you couldn't let the chance of being with him slip through your fingers. Yet as the night wore on, a seed of doubt had started to take root within you, gnawing at your innermost thoughts. You now wish you had the foresight to realize that accompanying Morax wasn't the most commendable choice.

"Here," Guizhong, with a playful glint in her eye, reached down to pluck one of the glaze lilies dotting the ground, a sweet scent filling the evening air. With a sweet smile, she tucked the lily behind Morax's ear. "How nice it looks on you!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with amusement. Morax's eyes softened at Guizhong's sweet gesture as he smiled softly at her, an expression you'd never seen on his face before. It was clear that only Guizhong could bring that soft smile to Morax's stoic face.

You stood there watching them, a silent observer, as they talked to one another. Even what they're talking about is unknown to you, making you feel like nothing more than a passive object in the room. You bore witness to the way the man you loved gazes at her with yearning and adoration—a glance that you wish was aimed at you instead.

The sight was not one to behold, causing a deep and unrelenting pain to well up within the deepest reaches of your emotional being. It was a peculiar feeling that possessed you. It was as if a sense of resentment towards the goddess gradually seeped into your bones, permeating your very essence.

But how can you hate such an innocent god who has never actively done any harm? In particular to you? Nonetheless, deep down you can't help but wish she'd never come into his life. That he had chosen you instead of her, that it was you in his arms, the object of his desire. Yet you know it's a futile dream, for you two are incompatible, you are the god of war while he is the god of contracts, forever parted by the gulf between your natures.

Guizhong, being the epitome of refinement and grace, captivates all who lay eyes on her. Unlike you, the deity of battles, Guizhong was a wise, compassionate, and intelligent god who never harmed a single soul. Conversely, you nevertheless bore the scars of battle on your body. Your skin stained with blood from countless battles. You see why Morax is so captivated by her—she was everything that you weren't.

"Oh, I think it's best I leave for now. Perhaps we can meet another time?" You force the words past your lips, your voice a mixture of hurt and disappointment. You hug your arms tightly to your chest, waiting for a response from either the two of them, only to realize that they don't seem to care about your presence. They're too caught up in their own world, and you're not a part of it. Maybe it's best to leave them be.

That night marked the end of your presence in their lives. It was then that you knew that it was time to move on. You couldn't change the way things were, nor could you force Morax to love you. As difficult as it was, you had to accept that your relationship with him was not meant to be. So, with a heavy heart, you decided to leave, choosing to cut all ties and put the past behind you. It was the only way to find peace and move forward.

-

In a tragic turn of events, the Archon War raged on with no end in sight. The God of Dust lost her life in a fierce battle over the Guili Plains and perished amidst the Glaze Lilies, leaving behind a sea of sorrow in her wake, particularly for Morax. Imagine his grief when he lost her too. He should have known the impending doom that was about to happen, and maybe, just maybe, he would have saved her too. Everything was a massacre.

Despite the passing years, he never ceased his search for you, holding a faint glimmer of hope that you were still alive. Despite giving up his gnosis, his rulership, and the weight of responsibility that he's borne for millennia, his determination to find you remains steadfast. It's as if he's incapable of letting go of the notion that you're still out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps the gnosis is now in the hands of the Fatui and has become their possession. He continues to look for you without ceasing.

Despite the selfish intentions behind his actions, he continued to search for you over and over again. He knew that he was to blame for your departure, as his behavior had led you to leave his life forever. Nevertheless, he persisted in trying to find you, driven by the guilt and regret that had filled his heart. He struggled to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, and the sadness that weighed upon him only continued to grow. All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, he could make amends.

But...

Would he ever see you again?

☁ Note: Zhongli, you selfish man, jkjk, I love you. No hate towards Guizhong! I love her so much. She's so cute. Who do you think is at fault here? Of course, me! for creating this.

[propertyofwicked]

you're gonna go far - ln

♬ so pack up your car, put a hand on your heart. say whatever you feel, be wherever you are...

warnings: angst. thats kinda it icl

masterlist the playlist

at 16, had anyone asked y/n where she saw her life now, she probably wouldn’t have expected to answer that she was still watching lando’s career in motorsport blossom into a legacy. not that she didn’t imagine him being successful, it was just hard to comprehend that the boy who fell asleep in the back of his dads car on the way back from a karting race would one day be one of the most successful formula one racers on the 21st century. the boy who wiped sweat from his forehead, his other hand shaking as he raised the flowers he held up and mumbled a quick “will you be my girlfriend?”

and when lando got his first break in racing, y/n was there, cheering the loudest, her eyes shining with pride.

at 18, the two laid together, having late-night conversations about their futures, promising to support each other no matter what. lando was progressing in his career, working closely with mclaren, y/n was looking at universities, dreaming of what she would spend the rest of her working life pursuing.

and at 20, moving into the flat had been a dream come true. lando's career with mclaren soared. he became a household name, known for his skill and charisma on and off the track. y/n was always there, cheering him on, even when she couldn't be at the races in person. and the two found solace in returning to their little flat, cooking together, being surrounded by each other in every aspect.

but at 22, she did not think that she would be sat in their home, hands tightly gripping a mug between her hands, the sun casting a golden hue that spread softly throughout the flat.

the distance between them had grown. the long hours, the constant travel, and the relentless demands of the sport started to take their toll. y/n felt it most on the nights she was alone in their flat, the silence a stark contrast to the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd. she tried to fill the void but nothing couldn't mask the loneliness that crept in.

lando's absence became more frequent. their once lively home felt emptier with each passing day. phone calls and video chats couldn't bridge the gap, and y/n found herself missing the little things - his laugh, his touch, the way he made her feel alive. she tried to stay positive, reminding herself of his dreams and the promise she had made to always support him.

the air was thick with unspoken words as they stood in the kitchen. the flat was filled with a tense silence that neither of them knew how to break - it was like this any time he came home recently. lando seemed restless, his eyes avoiding hers. finally, he broke the silence.

"i'm planning on moving to monaco," he said matter-of-factly, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth, "it's the best move for my career, to be closer to other drivers and in a better position to travel to races."

y/n felt her heart clench, a wave of numbness washing over her. she couldn’t reason with him, she didn’t want to. understanding that their relationship had been unravelling for a while. she had become an afterthought, a part of his past that didn't quite fit into his future.

"i understand," she replied softly, her voice void of emotion.

lando looked at her, his expression a mix of relief and regret. he stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulled away gently.

"it's okay," she whispered. "i know you're gonna go far. this is the best decision for you career," she said, echoing his previous statement, void of any ability to fight this.

and across the following weeks, as lando packed his things, y/n watched from a distance, feeling detached from the life they had built together. the memories of their laughter, their dreams, and their love seemed like distant echoes. she moved through the days like a ghost, mentally distanced from everything around her, unable to talk to anyone about the emptiness growing inside her.

she missed the way he would come home and wrap his arms around her, the way they would stay up late talking about their dreams. she missed the feeling of being loved. they hadn’t even discussed the break up, or the fact they had even broken up - “im moving to monaco” was a weighted sentence, a statement that had no place for her.

when the day came for lando to leave, y/n stood by the door, her eyes dry and her heart heavy. he hugged her one last time, and she held on just a moment longer, savouring the last trace of lando in her life.

"take care," she murmured, almost coldly, before stepping back and letting him go.

as the door closed behind him, y/n felt a hollow ache in her chest. she knew lando was destined for greatness, but the price had been their love. she sat down in the empty flat, the silence now a testament to what had been lost. she wandered from room to room, each corner filled with memories of a time when they had been inseparable.

their friends noticed the change in y/n, the way her laughter no longer reached her eyes, the way she seemed to be merely existing rather than living. they tried to reach out, to offer comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about the emptiness she felt. she painted smiles on her face, but inside, she was numb, unable to process the loss of the person who had been her world.

as months went by, y/n threw herself into her work, hoping to find solace in the one thing that had always been constant in her life. she worked hard, she improved, but every achievement felt hollow without lando by her side. she watched his races on tv, feeling a mix of pride and sorrow. he was going far, just as she had always known he would, but he was doing it without her.

standing on the balcony of their flat, looking out over the city they had once explored together, the lights of london stretched out before her, a reminder of the dreams they had shared. the city looked the same, the lights still cascaded through the rows of buildings, the cars still sped through the streets at all times of the day. how could she be angry? he was achieving his dreams, she was doing the same. it wasn’t fair to keep him here against his own volition.

it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t stop her from hurting, thinking about how easily he’d left her behind in search for something greater. she took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to move on, let go of the past, find a new path.

with a heavy heart, y/n too began packing up the flat, each item a reminder of the life they had built together. she carefully wrapped up the photos, the mementos of their time together, and placed them in boxes.

when the flat was finally empty, y/n stood in the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been their home. she knew it was time to close this chapter and start a new one, to find her own path, even if it meant doing it alone. as she locked the door behind her, she whispered a silent goodbye to the life they had shared, knowing that lando was destined to go far and that she had to find her own way, with or without him.

[mydearviserra]

Daughter of mine

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Alicent Hightower X Daughter reader]

Part two

Note: no nsfw, mother/daughter platonic relationship!! Reader husband is aemond

Summary: the guilt was eating at her faster then she thought, the guilt of being a horrible mother. One day she took it upon herselfto visit you. Once she entered your room she saw how tried you were with the newborn. Once helping you out for you to sleep she came to the realization of wanting to change, she needed to be there for you, to slowly make amends once and for all for you and her other children. But now another obstacle was made to block that from happening

One day as evening slowly took over King’s Landing, Alicent came to your chambers. It was rare occurrence, to be completely honest. She could count times when she came to check on you on her fingers. She slowly and quietly entered the room, the faint sounds of a baby crying filled the room, she saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, your white curls draped down your shoulders as you wore a silk robe to cover your nightgown. The baby letting out quite sobs as you bounce him tiredly in your arms, with a almost defeated sigh alicent began

“Child..”

Her voice was calm and soft, yet there was a visible tiredness in her face and eyes. She raised her head, looking at you in the dim light.

“Must I call a..wet nurse for you-“ she began before i quickly stopped her

“No..I think i can handle him”

You muttered as you held the small baby close to you, gently rocking him and humming a comforting melody trying to get him to calm down.

Alicent watched you for a bit, your soft features so different from hers. You were gentle and caring, even after a long day looking after your son you still were trying to calm him.

Alicent let out another breath and slowly stepped closer to you, sitting gently on the bed, leaving distance between the two of you.

She looked at your tired expression, seeing how worn out you were from sleepless nights taking care of the baby. She felt a pang of guilt, seeing how you looked so exhausted.

“You look tired..” she said softly, the distance between you and her feeling even bigger even with her sitting close to you.

It was almost as if she didn’t dare to come closer, as if she wasn’t sure if she could or if she allowed to.

“It was a long day..” you responded softly while rocking the baby, he was calming a little now yet still letting out a quiet whine every now and then.

Alicent’s gaze lingered on the baby for a moment before going back to you, her expression unreadable.

You noticed how she was looking at the infant, a mixture of emotions in her eyes.

“You..need to get some rest” she said, her tone of voice soft yet commanding.

“I..I know..I just..”

Your mind was too tired to even think properly, the constant fatigue has taken a toll on you.

“It’s just..not easy..to fall asleep” you muttered, the baby in your arms was more calm now as he began to doze off.

Alicent watched you as you talked, something in her expression shifting though she didn’t comment on it. She was looking at you, studying your face, the tired lines under your eyes, the way you cradled the baby in your arms..

Alicent was silent for a moment, her eyes lingering on you and the baby and a thought came to her mind.

She wanted to say something but held herself.

Alicent was your mother after all, yet it didn’t look like it, as she sat there not doing anything apart from studying you, her arms and legs crossed, her own child exhausted and she doing nothing. And it took her even more time to finally make a decision.

She slowly extended her arms, leaning towards you.

“May I?”

You froze a bit surprised, but before you could question her you just nodded and gently handed the baby to her.

Alicent took the infant in her arms carefully and held him close, the small baby let out a soft sigh of comfort, her fingers gently caressing his soft cheeks.

“You can lie down, I’ll watch him for a while” she said softly, her attention fixed on the baby in her arms, her voice now taking a tender tone.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should. You were so tired, yet the thought of getting a break, even if just for a little while, was too tempting to refuse.

You gave a slow nod and softly laid yourself down, once the blankets covered your body a scene of warmth cover your body it brought a piece of mind to know your son was asleep and taken care of. After a few moments of watching him sleep soundly in alicent arms you began to slowly closing your eyes, the exhaustion of the long day finally taking over.

Alicent gently rocking the baby back and forth to keep him calm. She looked at your sleeping face, seeing how peaceful you looked and suddenly there was a pang of guilt in her heart. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a look that closely to you and now that she did she took in every feature of you. She noticed how beautiful you were, your soft skin and delicate facial features. Then another thought came to her mind, you were so fragile looking, so gentle..

She felt an urge to reach out and touch you, to let her fingers gently brush away the hair from your face, but she caught herself and stopped.

Alicent didn’t move a muscle, her gaze fixed on you as you slept. She felt her insides tighten, seeing you there, so vulnerable, so helpless and yet so strong at the same time. You looked like a small child, so innocent and delicate..

It was as if she was looking at her younger self and she realized suddenly how alike you were. Just like the rest of her children having Targeryen features, white hair and purple eyes she saw the difference in you. You had her delicate eyes and thick curls, you were almost exact copy of Alicent in her youth.

Alicent tried to shake off the feeling of guilt that was welling up inside of her. She couldn’t show weakness and vulnerability, not now, not with everything happening and yet she couldn’t take her eyes off you. As she watched you sleep, a long forgotten memory began to stir in her mind, a memory of her in your place years ago.

She remembered her own motherless nights spent in her loneliness, not having anyone to turn to, to reach out to, to talk to. She knew what it felt like to be alone and in a loveless marriage, she knew what it felt like to have a husband not even grace at your child, but now she didn’t want you to go through further pain

She looked at you, your delicate frame curled up on the bed, your face now relaxed and peaceful, and a sudden rush of protectiveness came over her. She knew that she had failed you as a mother, but now she wanted to at least try and be there for you, to be what her own mother couldn’t do. Only recently alicent began seeking out to Helaena again, simply sitting with her as she mumbles her stories or help with Helaena children. She needed to be there for her gentle daughters, she failed them once. She couldn’t keep failing them now when they needed alicent the most.

She watched you sleep, seeing the vulnerability and strength that coexisted within you.

She continued to brush your hair gently, the motion soothing both the baby and her as she was deep in thoughts.

Alicent stayed there for a little longer, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to leave you, to go back to her duty.

She wanted to stay with you, to hold you close, to protect you from the cruel world around you. Alicent sat on the edge of the bed, the baby now asleep in her arms, as she continued to brush your hair. It was as if she couldn’t let go of you, as if she was afraid that if she left you alone for a moment, something would change, and you would slip through her fingers.

*the door creaking as it began to open, even at this hour it was almost pushed without a care in the world, it didn’t matter if the sound would disturb you. Once the door swung open aemond stood like a deer in headlights at the door away. His grip on the handle tightened as he saw Alicent holding his child. Much worse to see you sleeping so peacefully*

“Mother what are you doing here?” He spoke with irritation as his eye almost pointed daggers at alicent

Alicent’s attention instantly snapped from you to Aemond as the door opened. The irritation in his voice was palpable, but she took a deep breath to calm herself.

“It’s late, son,” she replied, holding the baby in her arms protectively. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Her gaze shifted back to you, still asleep, and then back to him. There was a tension in the air that she could sense, and she knew his displeasure was directed at her presence in your chambers.

Aemond’s gaze darkened as he took a few steps forward, his gaze narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

“And what are you doing holding my child?” He asked, his voice harsh and cold.

Alicent stayed calm, her expression not betraying any of her inner turmoil, she didn’t budge from the bed.

“I came to check on them,” she said simply, rocking the baby gently in her arms, her eyes never leaving Aemond’s gaze.

Aemond’s lips curled into a sneer, his one eye filled with suspicion and anger.

“I find it strange that you suddenly ‘care’ about their well-being after neglecting them- me for so long,” he retorted, his words laced with bitterness.

His gaze darted between the child in Alicent’s arms and you sleeping on the bed, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you so vulnerable.

Alicent’s expression hardened at his words, but she kept her voice even, her eyes locked with his. She couldn’t deny the truth in his accusation, but she was not ready to admit it so easily.

“I have my duties, Aemond,” she said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. “I have been busy with the council-“

Aemond interrupted her, his lips curled in a snarl.

“Duty should come with responsibility,” he shot back, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

Alicent’s jaw tightened, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress as she inhaled deeply, trying to maintain control.

“And I’ve been fulfilling my responsibilities,” she retorted, her voice steady despite the churning emotions within her.

Aemond let out a scoff, his expression darkening even further as he took another step closer to her, his gaze fixed on the child in her arms.

“Have you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, his tone a silent challenge. “Because what I see is a woman who has forgotten her own family in favor of duty.”

Alicent’s heart ached at his words, the truth in them hurting more than she cared to admit.

She couldn’t deny it, she had allowed her duties to consume her life, leaving little room for anything else, including her own children.

“It’s not that simple,” she replied weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's gaze bore into hers, his eye cold and unforgiving, his tone filled with a hint of anger.

"Isn't it?" he said, his words almost a challenge.

Alicent looked away, unable to meet his gaze, her own eyes filled with guilt and remorse. She knew he had every right to be angry with her, to blame her for her neglect, but she didn’t know how to even begin to fix it.

Aemond’s voice snapped her back to reality again, his tone almost mocking as he spoke.

“You’ve always preferred to play the role of a queen than a mother,”

His words stung, a harsh reminder of her failures as a mother.

Alicent flinched, her heart clenching at the truth in his words. She had indeed spent more time focusing on her duties than on her children, on her family.

“I…I didn’t have a choice,” she protested weakly, her voice barely audible.

Aemond let out a bitter laugh, his expression mocking as he took another step closer to her, his gaze cold and hard.

“We all have choices, mother,” he said, his words like a dagger. “You just chose the easy way.”

Alicent wanted to argue, to defend herself, but the words stayed stuck in her throat. She knew he was right, she had chosen the duty over being mother, over her children, over you

She glanced at you again, your sleeping figure, and a wave of guilt washed over her once more.

Aemond’s gaze followed hers and he let out a mocking scoff, his tone low and harsh.

“And to think you used to judge father for being an absentee parent..,”

Alicent’s eyes snapped back to his, a flash of anger in them at the mention of Viserys.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, her tone warning. “This is different-”

Aemond cut her off again, his expression even more mocking, his words cutting through her like a knife.

“Different how?” he asked, his tone almost cruel now. “Because you’re a woman? Because you claim to be righteous? But in the end you’re just like him, you care more about power and duty than your own family.”

Alicent’s heart ached at his words, knowing deep down that they were true. She had become consumed by her duties, just like Viserys before her.

“I…I had my reasons,” she muttered weakly, her voice trembling as she desperately tried to justify herself.

Aemond let out a scoff, his eyes narrowing at her, his tone almost sneering now.

“Reasons, excuses,” he said, his words a sharp and biting. “You can’t hide your hypocrisy, mother.”

Alicent’s shoulders slumped, her head bowing as a wave of shame washed over her. She knew she had been a hypocrite, judging Viserys while being just as guilty of neglecting her children. you, her fierce daughter.

Aemond’s gaze softened a bit as he took in her expression, but the anger in his tone was still there, just like the hurt in his one eye.

“You’ve always put your duty above your family,” he said, his voice softening, but not losing its harsh edge. “It’s time to pay the price.”

you began to mumble in your sleep, your brows scrunched uncomfortably as you began to wake up. Your eyes fluttered open once you eyes adjusted to the dim light you saw aemond once you saw your husband you began to sat up pushing the blanket slightly away. You didn’t met his gaze though from the way he was speaking earlier you didn’t want for him to start arguing with her

“M..mother I could place him in his crib now..thank you for watching him” your voice soft as you showed her kind smile to her, you held out her arms for her son

Alicent was snapped out of her thoughts as you wake up, your voice soft and kind. She nodded, her expression a mixture of guilt and affection as she gently placed the baby in your outstretched arms, her fingers lingering on his small form for a moment before letting go.

Her gaze shifted to Aemond, whose expression was still cold and guarded, his eye fixed on the baby in your arms.

She took a deep breath, her heart heavy with unspoken words, with apologies she could not voice.

Aemond’s gaze followed your every move, his expression hard and unreadable as he watched you cradle the baby in your arms. He could see the love in your eyes as you looked at the child, and it made his heart ache for the family he has missed to spend time with.

His gaze shifted back to Alicent, his expression still cold.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, mother,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Thank you..again mother..I..I shall come to you in the morning for a walk around the gardens” you kissed alicent cheek before pulling further of the blanket for you off the bed, your footsteps quietly echoed the chambers as you place the baby in his cradle, once tucking him in you turn to alicent “good night mother”

Alicent’s gaze softened as you kissed her cheek, her heart filled with a mix of guilty and affection at the simple gesture. She tried to hold your gaze, hoping to speak further, but she knew it was not the time.

She nodded, forcing a small smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” she murmuring, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond, who was brooding in silence, watched the scene with a stoic expression, his eye fixed on you and the baby.

Aemond didn't say anything as you placed the baby in his crib, his gaze flickering from you to the child. He could see the tenderness in your every move, the love you had for your child, and it only made his heart ache more.

As you bid goodnight to Alicent, Aemond finally spoke up, his tone sharp and cold.

“Don’t bother coming tomorrow.”

Alicent's heart skipped a beat at his words, her gaze snapping to him in surprise and worry. She knew that Aemond's anger was understandable, but the thought of him not allowing you to approach them, to see her grandchild, was heartbreaking.

“Aemond,” she began, her voice a mixture of sternness and pleading, but Aemond's gaze hardened as he held up a hand to stop her.

“Save your words, mother,” he said, his tone firm and not open for argument. "You've done enough."

Alicent fell silent, her heart heavy with guilt and regret, knowing that she has no right to argue with him. She knew she had brought this upon herself, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you and the baby.

Aemond turned his gaze back to you, his eye narrowing as he watched you tuck the baby into the cradle.

You bite your tongue as you glared at Aemond,taking sharp breath trying to calm yourself before you say something you regret. Letting go of the crib you walked towards alicent, keeping a smile as you held a hand for her to help her towards the door once she stepped into the hallway you whispered with a sneaky smirk

“He’s just grumpy ..I shall see you tomorrow mother”

Alicent’s heart ached at your whispered words, a small smile forming on her lips despite the situation. She knew Aemond was angry, but the thought of you not being able to visit her tomorrow was heart-wrenching.

She nodded, her grip on your hand tightening slightly as she returned your smile.

"I understand," she murmured softly, her voice low enough for only you to hear. "Be patient with him, alright?"

Alicent was about to turn and leave when suddenly Aemond's voice rang through the hallway, the sharpness in his words cutting through the air.

“Stay away from her, mother.”

Alicent froze in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected command. She looked back at Aemond, her expression a mix of surprise and hurt, but Aemond's expression was unyielding.

"You are to have no contact with her for the time being. You have caused enough damage," he said, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

Alicent's heart sank at his words, a wave of pain washing over her. She knew she had made mistakes, that she had failed as a mother, but the thought of being completely cut off from you, from her grandchild, was a dagger to her heart.

She felt the sting of tears pricking at her eyes, but she held them back, her expression hardening.

“Aemond, please-“ she began, her voice cracking with desperation.

Aemond's expression remained cold and hard as he cut her off, his gaze unyielding.

"Do not plead," he said, his tone harsh as he fixed her with a steely gaze. "You had your chance, mother. You chose your duty over your family. Now you must face the consequences of your actions." His heavy steps rushed beside you as he yanked you away from the door. With a final glare to alicent he slammed the door, it was hard enough for the whole red keep to hear

Alicent stood in the hall, her heart heavy with guilt and despair. She could still hear Aemond's words echoing in her head, his harsh tone leaving her feeling cold and alone. She knew she had messed up, that she had caused Aemond pain and anger..but the thought of being completely cut off from you, from her family, was unbearable.

As Aemond's footsteps faded in the distance, Alicent closed her eyes as she leaned against the cold stone wall, her shoulder slumped, a small tear ran down her face..

Oh my sweet girl..

AHH I’m so happy with how this turn out! How did you like it?! Part 2?

Request are open for bots or stories💗 ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[cece693]

You Can't Outrun Fate (Hannibal Lecter x Male! Reader)

This came to me in a dream :) Well, a mix of dream and me seeking out alternative timelines in the Hannibal show. Hope you enjoy.

tags: posessiveness, slight jealousy, heartbreak, sad male reader, misunderstandings, m/n leaves Hannibal, but when does Hannibal allow something of his to escape his control, kidnapping

Hannibal Lecter was a drug, a highly addictive one at that. His charm, words, and actions ensnared you in his web until it was too late. This drug left you with nothing and no one, except him. M/N knew this all too well; he could hardly remember his old life before the murderer waltzed in and deemed him worthy of seeing past his multiple facades and joining his side. It had been years since that day, and M/N didn’t regret it. Like a blooming rose, M/N eagerly soaked up any attention Hannibal gave him. But nothing good lasts forever.

Hannibal was a man who thrived on adrenaline and enjoyed being challenged. What better challenge than finding Will Graham, a man harboring darkness which he tried hard to mask behind this front of normality? For the first time since M/N, someone had forced their way into Hannibal’s mind palace and made a home there.

M/N had known since the beginning of their relationship that it wouldn’t be long before Hannibal grew bored of him. Hannibal detested routine more than he detested rudeness—being chained to M/N without the ability to indulge in others was unbearable for him. M/N was foolish to think he would be enough to satiate the monster within Hannibal. Will Graham became the perfect canvas for Hannibal to mold into his equal, leaving M/N in the dust.

It began innocently enough with Hannibal bringing the detective into their conversations, making off-handed comments about Will’s unique gift. His fascination grew, and soon enough, Hannibal was deserting M/N at their home without a note or message, prioritizing Will’s 7:30 pm sessions.

At first, M/N tried to rationalize it. He told himself it was fine to see Hannibal off, knowing he would return soon. But then those therapy sessions started blending into real life, with Hannibal spending more and more time trailing behind Will like a shadow. 

M/N knew it was over. He had been replaced. Hannibal's absence became more frequent, his excuses more transparent. Their relationship took a toll with both men unable to stand within the same room, their love replaced by a cold void. M/N felt a complex mix of emotions—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of loss. He couldn't bring himself to hate Will. 

If he weren’t so hopelessly in love with Hannibal, M/N might have pursued the detective too—he was interesting and handsome, a combination so rarely found in one person. In another universe, under different circumstances, perhaps they could have been friends, or even more. But in this life, Will was the catalyst for his heartbreak, the new obsession that had stolen Hannibal’s affection. 

M/N and Hannibal had been avoiding the inevitable, so one day when M/N knew Hannibal would be busy, he packed his bags and took off. It was a hard decision but M/N knew it was the correct one. It wasn’t as if the murderer would miss him, the past weeks spent in solitude was enough to tell M/N he wasn’t needed. Perhaps Hannibal was already organizing a dinner party to celebrate his departure, aiming to introduce Will into his life. He had overstayed his welcome. 

The initial months were challenging; detoxing from Hannibal was painful. Everywhere he looked, M/N couldn’t help but think of the man. Hannibal’s presence was ever-permanent in M/N's life, an inescapable shadow haunting his every step. The familiar scents, the echoes of their conversations, the ghost of Hannibal’s touch—everything served as a cruel reminder of what he had lost. M/N found himself drifting through each day in a haze, battling the overwhelming urge to return, to feel that addictive rush once more. But he owed Hannibal at least that much, a chance to restart with the partner of his dreams. 

And when memories became too much to bear, M/N would depart once more. America, Britain, Ireland, Spain. Beautiful sights but it didn’t ease his emptiness. He’d even begun to bring partners to bed, hoping they’ll become his new addiction, but nothing. Perhaps this was M/N’s punishment: unable to move on and inevitably tied to Hannibal forever. Or perhaps this was fate. 

Fate. 

Such a funny thing—luck, destiny, karma, however you wanted to call it. Almost a year had passed since M/N left America when news reached him about the death of Will Graham. The incident was attributed to the Chesapeake Ripper, a detective who had been too close to uncovering the killer’s identity. The revelation left M/N shocked and unsettled. If it was Hannibal who disposed of Will and not a copycat, the question lingered: Why? What had driven Hannibal to eliminate someone he had once found so intriguing, someone whom he viewed as an equal? 

Rushing to his apartment, M/N locked the door behind him. If Hannibal had killed Will, what guaranteed M/N he wouldn’t kill him next? Panic surged through him as he leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, but it was already too late. His nose wasn’t quick enough to detect the familiar scent of cologne before strong arms seized him and spun him around.

M/N froze, the blood draining from his face as he found himself face to face with Hannibal. But this wasn’t the man whom M/N remembered—his hair was longer and unstyled, falling into his eyes, and his clothing consisted of a simple black jacket and slacks rather than his usual three-piece suit.

"Hannibal." M/N managed to gasp, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Hannibal's eyes bore into him. There was a wildness in his gaze, a hint of the unrestrained fury simmering beneath the surface. He looked like a man who had been through hell and emerged on the other side, more dangerous and unpredictable than ever. He still commanded attention, but now there was a dangerous demeanor he wore, as if he was on the verge of being Hannibal and whatever monster he’d tucked away.

“M/N.” Hannibal whispered back, his voice deceptively calm. “I didn’t think you would be so foolish as to run from me.” The back of his hand grazed his cheek when it harshly gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to lock. M/N couldn’t look away nor did he want to. Hannibal’s eyes were a tempest of emotions—anger, betrayal, hurt, but above all, love.

"I...I had to leave," M/N reasoned, his voice coming out steady despite the churning inside his stomach. “You know why.” All he received was a cold, hard glare from Hannibal. 

"Do I?" he said softly, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "You left without a word, abandoning everything we had built together.” Hannibal took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. M/N could feel Hannibal’s warmth, and a part of him wanted to close the distance, but fear paralyzed him. "When you left, everything lost its meaning. Life became a dreary monotone."

“You made that choice.” M/N couldn’t help but hiss, not being able to contain his anger and sadness. “You paraded Will like some sort of prize, leaving me in the dust. How do you think I felt when the man I loved began to seek someone else?” Pushing Hannibal away, M/N remained standing, wanting to get everything off his shoulders. “You were the one who abandoned whatever we’ve built, not me.”

Hannibal’s expression softened. “I never meant to hurt you, M/N.” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Will was a distraction, a fleeting curiosity. But you...you are irreplaceable.”

M/N scoffed at the man’s words. “It’s been a year, Hannibal. If I’m really irreplaceable as you claim, why didn’t you come sooner? You’re just now seeking me out after Will’s gone from the picture. Admit it, you want your play thing back.”

“You’re nothing of the sort, M/N.”

“Shut up!” M/N barked, his voice filled with desperation. “Just leave me alone, Hannibal. Go.” But his words fell on deaf ears. Cornered against the wall, M/N struggled as Hannibal grabbed his body and pressed a towel against the bottom of his face. Chloroform. 

M/N fought against the overwhelming dizziness that crept over him, his limbs growing heavy as the world began to blur. He could feel Hannibal’s fingers gently running through the back of his head, a gesture that was both tender and chilling. Hannibal spoke the final words M/N would hear before darkness enveloped him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose you again.”

[sukukuna]

スククナ EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SORCERER (UNPAID)

part 1 part 1

premise; Shoko is done with being the only one who has to constantly handle everyone else's trauma and curse induced breakdowns. So when you casually mention you're pretty good at giving advice, she immediately recommends you to the higher ups as the new, unofficial therapist.

this is just a short intro to a series! if people enjoy this, i might continue it :p will include lots of characters!

You think that you made a mistake labelling yourself as a good listener.

Now you have a desk made of milk crates, a bean bag that you're 90% sure is haunted- a bean bag that occasionally tries to swallow some of your clients (just Gojo). Your office is a repurposed janitors closet, and payment comes in the form of boba tea, strawberry mochi and the occasional cursed trinket.

You're not sure how you ended up here. You're not exactly sure how to leave, either.

If you could go back in time, you'd go back to the moment when Shoko was patching you up after a rough mission, smoking a cigarette wistfully and complaining about how she had no time to herself.

You'd rather slap yourself in the face before uttering out the words "I'm pretty good at giving advice," again.

Because apparently, that's all it took for Shoko to appoint you as the new 'emotional support sorcerer' for Jujutsu High.

"I don't have a degree." you told her. She rolled her eyes as you voiced the obvious, tapping out her cigarette bud.

"Neither did Freud," she replied, tossing you a stress ball shaped oddly like a baby cursed spirit. "Welcome to the job."

And then there's the clients.

"Its pretty simple. You just listen to them and maybe patch up a cut or two, and make sure they don't completely implode. If they start crying, that's on you." Shoko handed you a hastily scribbled schedule of her working times. "I figure if you survive today, you'll be fine.

"Ah," you blinked up at her. "Okay." She smiled, and you were certain she was enjoying your discomfort. "Who's first?"

Her grin widened, and you shuddered. "Gojo."

".....Gojo?"

And Shoko just laughs.

CASE NO.1 SATORU GOJO.

You had only been in the Janitors closet Therapy room for five minutes when the door swung open like a storm hit the place. Satoru Gojo, in all his obnoxious glory comes strolling in with his blindfold and smug grin, looking like the worlds most egotistical superhero sorcerer.

"Y/n! You're the new group therapist, huh?" He slid into the beanbag chair like he owned it. You observed the haunted bean bag, as if making sure Gojo's boisterous energy wouldn't affect it.

"Uh-huh," Suddenly you were regretting every decision that led you to this moment.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't you worry. I'm gonna be the best client you've ever had."

"You're also the only client I've ever had." He ignored you.

Sighing to himself with a wide grin, "You won't be able to handle my perfect emotional depth." He sinks further into the bean bag, and you wince as the air starts feeling thicker, and the bean bag starts to seem more...menacing.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Right...So what brings you here?"

He grins, and places his hands behind his head, his blindfold riding up slightly. "Well, I'm perfect, obviously, but... sometimes, I get a little tired of being the brightest star in the sky. It's exhausting being this good looking. And everyone loves me. Its a lot, you know?" No, no I do not.

You just stare at him blankly. "...And that's the reason you're here?"

He sighs dramatically, flopping back into the beanbag. "And also, like, How do you even deal with being this amazing everyday? Its like a curse."

"Gojo," You start, voice thick with sarcasm. "You're going to be fine. I'm sure the emotional toll of being a literal god doesn't keep you up at night."

He blinked. "Wait. It doesn't?"

DIAGNOSIS: CHRONIC GOJO SYNDROME

TREATMENT: COMPLIMENTS. KIKUFUKU.

It had been exactly fifteen minutes since your first 'session' with Gojo. Fifteen minutes since Satoru had stormed out of the makeshift office, having delivered the kind of emotional performance that only someone with his level of ego could pull off.

You rubbed your temples, trying to process the tidal wave that had just crashed into your psyche. You had managed to take a few notes, but they all stated the obvious.

EGO - IMPOSSIBLY LARGE

PROBLEM - ??? TOO PERFECT ???

SOLUTION - ?????? MORE THERAPY ??????

if this gets interactions i will continue <3

[paigesbasketball]

if requests are open can we have shadow the hedgehog x reader for when the reader is needed comfort. Like bad days, crying, panic etc?

Needed Comfort

Shadow the hedgehog x reader (just imagine the middle picture is you) Warnings: None!

The clock had ticked past midnight, but it was as if time itself had stopped in your little corner of the world. The glow of your laptop screen was the only light in the room, flickering as your eyes desperately tried to focus on the endless list of tasks that needed your attention. Every email, every deadline, every responsibility seemed to merge into a blur of frustration. You could feel the weight of it all pressing on your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Your fingers, trembling slightly, moved across the keyboard, but each keystroke felt like it took all your energy. Just one more task, you thought. If I finish this, I can finally relax. But no matter how much you worked, there was always another task waiting, another problem that demanded your attention.

The tears had started before you could stop them. One drop, then another, until the steady stream of emotion blurred your vision, making it impossible to focus. You wiped your eyes quickly, but it didn't help. The pressure kept building, and you felt it in every part of your body.

I can’t stop now. I can’t.

You heard a sound at the door, a soft, deliberate knock, but you barely registered it through the fog of your thoughts. You didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop.

"[Y/N]?" came a familiar voice. A deep, calm voice — Shadow’s voice.

You didn’t look up, refusing to acknowledge him. If you stopped now, the weight of everything would come crashing down on you, and you weren’t ready to face that yet. You couldn’t. Not when there was still so much to do.

"I’m fine," you muttered, your voice tight, barely a whisper. "Just… finishing something."

Shadow didn’t buy it. You could hear him step closer, the sound of his boots against the floor steady, purposeful. He knew you too well to let you push him away. You heard him stop right behind you, his shadow looming large in the dim light. You kept your gaze fixed on the screen, your fingers moving mechanically over the keys.

"Enough," Shadow’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. It was calm but firm. "You’ve been at this for hours. You need to rest."

You shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes. "I can’t. I have too much left to do. I’ll rest later."

There was a pause, a moment of silence. You knew that Shadow wasn’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to you. But you were stubborn, too, and tonight, you didn’t have the strength to fight him.

He reached over, his gloved hand gently but decisively taking hold of your laptop. "No more work tonight," he said, his voice still soft, yet commanding. "You’ve pushed yourself too far."

Before you could protest, Shadow closed the laptop with a swift motion, the click of it snapping shut cutting through the tension in the room. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

"No! I—" you started, but your words were swallowed by the weight of everything you’d been holding in. The tears began to well up again, this time with the force of exhaustion, frustration, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Shadow’s expression softened, but there was no hesitation in his actions. Without a word, he leaned down, his strong arms carefully lifting you out of your chair, cradling you close to his chest. You were too tired to resist, the exhaustion from the long hours of work finally catching up to you. The weight in your chest began to loosen slightly, but the emotional toll was still heavy.

And then, just as you were beginning to drift off, Shadow’s voice broke through the quiet again.

"I finished my paperwork for G.U.N.," he said, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you. "Now, it’s my turn to take care of you."

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to relax fully, letting the exhaustion overtake you. Shadow’s calm presence, his unwavering support, was enough to give you the peace you desperately needed.

Without another word, he settled beside you on the bed, his arm slipping around you as you nestled against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat was a comfort, a lullaby that soothed your racing thoughts. The storm inside your head had finally quieted, and all that remained was the safe, steady rhythm of Shadow's breathing as he held you close.

And in that moment, with Shadow there beside you, the world could wait. The work, the pressure, the deadlines — they were all still there, but you didn’t have to face them alone. You had Shadow, and that was enough.

As you closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to rest, you knew that tomorrow would come with its challenges, but for now, you could find solace in his arms. And in the quiet of the night, you allowed yourself to just breathe, feeling the comfort of knowing that Shadow would always be there, no matter how heavy the world became.

[bunni0nbanhg]

|Ink| 01

Tattoo artist!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre(s): Strangers to lovers, One night stand, Unexpected relationship

Smut Warnings: Intoxication, unprotected sex, Soft!Dom Chan, Switch!Reader, Degrading, Creampies, Breeding kink

Synopsis: You needed to get a tattoo covered up, one you got for your ex. You’re in a new city and go to the closest tattoo parlor by your apartment. The main tattoo artist and owner just so happens to live across the hall from you. Drunken actions turn into a spiral of emotions and your first healthy relationship.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Part 2 ࿐ྂ

The black ink of a slightly faded tattoo stared back at you, right on the inner part of your left wrist.

It’s been almost a year since you broke up with your last boyfriend, the relationship lasting far longer than it should have. The toxicity and constant insecurity while being with him took a toll on you until you finally broke.

Moving to Seoul was an abrupt decision. Your main goal was to just get as much distance as you could from him, in hopes he’d fade with your memories.

This tattoo on your wrist fails to help you forget about him though.

You had gotten it as a matching couples tattoo. Despite all the warnings from people and the internet to never get matching tattoos with someone, you had made yet another impulsive decision.

Your old tattoo artist, who’s worked on majority of your tattoos, is now too far away. You’d have to take time off work to see her, and with the recent dent in your bank account due to the move, you couldn’t afford missing a day.

You turned to face your nightstand and grab your phone off the wooden furniture.

A quick google search leads you to: Stray Kids Studio. It’s not a common name for a tattoo parlor, but the prices are in your range. Ratings say they’re good and when you’re able to find their Instagram account you see countless amazing pieces.

Still, with another glance at the tattoo, you don’t know if you’re able to cover it up well enough to forget the original design.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“The 16th?” A smooth voice confirms, the subtle sound of clicking on a keyboard could be heard over the phone.

After a week of consideration you finally decided to make an appointment at the tattoo parlor.

“Yeah, any time after… 3 pm? It’s a small tattoo, fine line.” Another hum is followed after you answer. “We have an appointment for 3:30 pm, two of our artists. Are you looking for color or traditional?”

“Traditional.”

“That works! Our artist Chan will be the one to cover your tattoo up. Just make sure to bring in some sort of identification and payment, we’ll get you to the back as soon as we verify everything.”

You had already given them your name, so the appointment was finalized after you gave them your number and email so they could contact you in case you forget.

You still weren’t sure how the tattoo will end up, it’s almost worst to have a shitty scribble on your wrist than an old couples tattoo.

Luckily it isn’t his initials, only a small outline of a hummingbird from an intimate inside joke between you two. It’s totally not as if it makes your chest burn hot with rage and jaw clench at just how fucked up that relationship was.

Maybe a blacked out wrist wasn’t so bad after all.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You sure you’re up for going out tonight?”

One of your friends sit behind you, sitting on the edge of your bed as she watches you get ready in your mirror.

You glance at her through the mirror with a beauty blender in hand. “It’s been a while since I went out, I need to make the most of my twenties.”

She sighs with a small smile and shake of her head. “Your impulsive decisions are going to get you in serious trouble. Not just shitty tattoos or moving to a whole new city. We’ve made it this far without my phone ringing from the county jail.”

You roll your eyes at the hint of sarcasm in her last sentence, shoulders slumping. “I’m not going to hop in someone’s backseat of their car or anything. I’ll stay close.”

“Sure.” She chuckles before pushing off the bed to help you with your hair.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

It’s been what feels like years since you last were at a club. The hot air from a crowd of people and the nauseating bumping of loud music.

Some places could be really chill, not so cramped. This place, the White Rabbit, is extremely busy on Saturday night.

Knowing this however, you’ve taken some precautions.

A group of your friends already have a booth claimed, a tray of clear liquor shots.

“Tito’s, Everclear and Absolute Vodka.” One of your friends, a small and usually energetic blonde, pointed at each round of shots.

“I can alreayd feel the vomit in my throat.” You mumble, grimacing but picking up one of them readily. With a chaser in hand you shoot back the first one.

Then the second, third, onto your fourth.

Throughout the night, past 3 hours, the shots kept coming. You tried your best to pace yourself, not wanting to get alcohol poisoning.

It was hard when you wanted to get that fuzzy warm feeling fast in your chest. Fast, ended up with it all crashing at once like a train wreck.

“Where are you going?” One of your friends slurred, trying her best to yell over the music and conversations all at once. “Bathroom!” You lied, purse around your shoulder and phone in hand.

You can’t remember if you still had your wallet, but you left your credit and or debit cards at home beforehand. You could afford to get another ID if you did happen to leave it.

What you instead did was go outside, taking in the biggest breath of your life to calm down the spinning feeling in your head.

A groan slipped past your lips, squatting down to the ground to clutch your head between your hands.

You took deep breaths to stop your chest from heaving and trying to throw up the poison in your system.

Your ankles felt weak, vision going spotty. It had been so long since you last partied that you didn’t realize your tolerance was so shit. It made you want to take the longest sleep of your life.

Something cool touched your temple, leaving a wet spot on your flushed skin.

To your right was a man, all black outfit and bottle of water in hand. The streetlight did a poor job of providing enough lighting to see his face but you could make out the slight smile of amusement.

“Where’s your friend? Friends? Need me to call a taxi?” His voice is slightly deep, a little more raspy than anything but what catches your half lidded eyes is the silver jewelry on his lips.

You point to your own lips, head tilting to the side absentmindedly.

“Did that hurt?” You mumble, eyes widening at just how slurred your speech sounded.

He chuckle, squatting down to mimick you and press the water to your free hand. “Did them myself, always hurts more.”

That’s when you notice two other guys, seemingly hanging back and waiting for him with the open door of a taxi.

He follows your gaze and points at the yellow car with his thumb. “Wanna ride with us? Or we can call a different one for us and you take that one.”

The answer is obvious in your drunken mind, a car ride with an attractive sounding man makes your face flush more.

“Friend.” You mumbled back instead, your mind not letting you forget about your friend you drove with you. Your car should be nearby, she said she’d be the designated driver but you lost each other in the crowd after your something odd shot.

He nods with a hum and stands back up, the water still in your hands. He looks back at his waiting friends who almost instantly sigh and close the door.

It makes you raise an eyebrow as the two walk over and the stranger pulls you up abruptly.

You would have screamed in fear, the situation suddenly feeling like a kidnapping, but he set you back down immediately as soon as you regained proper footing.

“Do you have your phone with you? Try calling her.”

Your purse suddenly felt heavier, the reminder of the cellular device in there making you blink your eyes rapidly and look down at it.

Luckily muscle memory helped you type in your password without much thought, but you held the screen up to him with squinted eyes.

“Her name is Haeji.” You slurred, feeling too nauseous suddenly to stare at the bright light for too long.

The stranger looked down at the phone screen and let out another small laugh. He hesitated at first, but clicked on the contact app nonetheless and scrolled till he found Haeji’s name and number.

She was panicked at first, hearing a male voice after picking up the call, but he was able to explain before she drew conclusions.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t run off!” Haeji sighed in relief, crouching down to your drunken form as you hummed back. “Nooo, I said I wouldn’t get in someone’s car.” You replied with a slurred giggle.

Haeji looked up to thank the three men, but found them already waving down another taxi and preparing to leave.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” She mumbled, looping an arm under your left arm with your right arm over her neck.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Getting a tattoo post hangover is not ideal. You hoped they couldn’t tell how exhausted you were, with sunglasses and hood up.

You hadn’t bothered applying anything more than mascara and lip balm, not in the mood to try and look presentable.

The person at the counter you spoke with truly didn’t match his voice, it was only did he address you by confirming you’re who you are, did you realize it was the same guy.

“I’m Felix, if you decide to book another appointment with us; I’ll be the one you’re most likely talking to.”

He smiled a sweet smile, pearly white teeth and slightly scrunched nose. You couldn’t help but internally oogle at how attractive he is.

Next, he gestured to a curtain, pulling it back for you to see a short and well lit hallway. “It’s the one in the far right.” He pointed to it, the door with a big silver 4 on it.

“He’s just coming off lunch break so you won’t be waiting for long.”

You nodded and stepped into the room, the decor minimal but sleek at the same time. It didn’t feel cold like a standard office would but the lack of colors and mostly blacks with dark grays provided a layer of mystery to whoever your tattooer is.

Hopefully he’s not the opposite of Felix, zero smiles and a deadpanned voice. At the same time you didn’t care, just wanting to cover this tattoo up as fast as you can.

“I’m sorry- usually I like introducing myself in the lobby but I ended up a few minutes behind.”

The rushed words and opening of the room’s door made you break out of your thoughts.

Familiarity struck you, silver lip piercings and protective atmosphere.

He seemed to recognize you too, a smile breaking out on his face. “You sure you shouldn’t be at home right now? You looked pretty shit faced the other night.”

Your tongue clicked and shoulders sagged at his easy teasing. “I was just a little rusty, should I be concerned about you though? Don’t want my tattooer to be hungover.”

He mimicked the noise you made earlier with a slightly more sarcastic click of his own. “I’m guessing you made it home fine?”

His coat was hung up on the door, making your eyes trace his bare arms. In the middle of August it’s to be expected people wear tank tops but you weren’t prepared for the gains this guy had.

Not the mention the think black lines of a tattoo of his own swirling from his elbow up.

“Who did that peice?” You hummed absentmindedly, head tilting to follow the curves. He glanced down at his own arm and tapped it twice.

“My good friend, he works here too. Changbin. If this is your style I recommend coming back for something similar.”

He grinned at being able to promote one of his friends, and bringing back another customer at the same time.

“Maybe, I’m more into meanings behind tattoos.”

“What meaning is the one I’m covering up then?”

As he asked this question he’s pulling out a drawer to gather his things and snap on black rubber gloves.

You laid back onto the tattoo chair, left arm already stretching out to rest on one of the arm rests.

“Something to do with my ex.” You mumbled back, shoulders slumping.

“I know- cliche, and not a good idea.”

He chuckled in agreement, eyebrows raising at he looked at the poor quality humming bird.

He grabbed a tablet from one of the cupboard tables off to the side along with his Apple Pencil, drawing app already pulled up and ready to do.

“So what style are we going for, any inspos?”

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Making a design went smoother than you thought, he was able to draw a sketch pretty fast with help of your input.

When he put the stencil on your wrist, it looked promising as it did well to blend in with the muddled lines of your old tattoo.

The finish work as way better however.

“You can’t even see it…” You mumbled in shock, moving your wrist side to side as if trying your best to pick out the old tattoo.

“That’s the point.” He replied with a small chuckle, always prideful when a client compliments his work. Even more when said client is gorgeous.

He did a last wipe before applying the protective layer over it. “You know how to care for it as I’m assuming, and if you ever want to add something more or schedule for another I’m sure any of us will be more than happy to.”

He lead you back out to where Felix was still stationed, the blonde giving his usual friendly smile.

“Everything go well?” He asked as he pulled up your name. “Definitely, glad I was able to find such a good parlor. I was nervous since it’s obviously not my usual.”

“What place do you usually go to?” Chan asked, right hip leaning on the counter as he took off his gloves to throw away.

“It was called 8-Teez, it’s far away and I just moved.”

Felix turned around the monitor as he finally was able to pull up the payment screen.

You grabbed your card along with cash, knowing to always tip your tattoo artist.

“There’s a really good Pho place over at 7th Street, if you ever need a good food suggestion.”

You grinned at the hidden implications of his words, or, what could be there at least unless he really was just being nice.

“Yeah? I live right by there. Those new high rise apartments.”

Chan’s eyebrows seemed to raise at what you said before pointing a finger at himself.

“Me too, Apartment 143.”

You gasped as you grab your Apartment key and show him your number. “146!”

"Only 3 rooms apart." He said with obvious shock in his voice, Felix leaning over the desk to look at the key too. "Wow, what a coincidence!" He laughed while tilting his head to the side to make sure he was reading it correctly.

"Guess I'll have to drop by one of these days, Y'know, see if you're taking care of my work right."

You shook your head with an amused smile. "Totally; and I'll make sure to order takeout for two, Y'know, because starving artists and all."

[corcjell]

i think if they were in a relationship while working at Black Mesa it wouldve been very toxic. Gordon would be constantly consumed with his work, staying late hours, often sleeping in the office, probably not taking care of himself. Barney i think would feel inclined to offer that care and remind him to stay healthy. Gordon would lack the energy to offer anything to the relationship being mentally and physically exhausted by the tests and his work. he is only a research associate but i doubt that would stop him from actually doing research of his own based on his drive to learn from such a young age. i also thing that because of this drive, he lacks any kind of relationship experience, however i do believe that hes the kind of person that is really transparent when it comes to his emotions. (mostly because im like that and im pretty sure its an autism thing and Gordon is riddled with autism.)

if the did make some kind of deal to be friends with benefits, (with them both knowing they have feelings for each other, this is not a spontaneous decision) that would be all it is. Gordon knows it has to be that way, Barney has to comes to terms with that, it tears him apart but he doesnt know any other way to deal with it. i also think it gets weird. because like, they're already good friends, they spend time together, theyre at eachothers dorms, they crack open some cold ones, its not the type of relationship where theyre cold and uncaring when theyre not actively having sex. so it gets weird when they maybe lie in bed after and theyre way too casual for people who have as complicated of a relationship as that.

they know that if they really knew they were capable, they could be together and they could be happy, and they get these glimpses of what that would look like. when they share a chaste kiss at breakfast after spending the night, it gets quiet and awkward.

i imagine that Gordon has an immense ammount of guilt. he is aware of the toll this is taking on barney, he can see it especially in those moments.

context for this picture which is them talking about the possibility of a relationship