#fighting for the past is emotionally draining...

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ love. ┈ kth.

sypnosis. taehyun was perfect. he was attentive, caring, kind... who were you kidding—he was everything you wanted and more. but when a fight seems to have shattered whatever it was between you, it felt like all that warmth vanished. even after everything, can love survive when it feels like it’s already been lost?

pairings and tags. suitor!taehyun x reader ft. friend!beomgyu . fluff . angst . mentions of alcohol/being inebriated . taehyun is a huge sweetheart . slight misunderstandings . drunken confession . emotional hurt/comfort . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 6.9k

short note … just a little something before i lock in for finals heh ,, it was supposed to be situationsip!taehyun, but i feel like this suits him way more <3 do let me know ur thoughts! ^_^

for the past few months, taehyun had been nothing short of perfect as your suitor.

it all started on a warm spring afternoon, the kind where the air felt soft and the sun kissed everything golden. you were at the bleachers, minding your own business, when taehyun—a boy you’d seen around but never really spoken to—walked up to you with a nervous smile.

“hi,” he started, his voice soft but steady. his round face was a little pink, and his boba-like eyes darted around as if he were trying to gather courage from the trees and the sky. “do you, uh, wanna be friends?”

you blinked, surprised. there wasn’t a single person who wouldn’t find him attractive—he practically radiated charm without even trying. but there was something endearingly awkward about him in that moment, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

“sure,” you said, smiling back. his grin stretched wide.

and just like that, taehyun slowly but surely became a part of your life. 

taehyun wasn’t like anyone you’d met before. he talked a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but it never felt overbearing. his stories were funny, his observations sharp, and his quick wit always left you laughing. it didn’t matter if he was teasing you about your choice of coffee or launching into an impromptu debate about why gukbap was an underrated masterpiece of korean cuisine—taehyun always found a way to make everything more entertaining.

but it wasn’t just the humor that pulled you in. there was a warmth to taehyun that people often overlooked. he had this way of making you feel safe, like no matter what you said or did, he’d still look at you with those soft, doe eyes, full of understanding and adoration.

people often called him cold, saying he was hard to read. “taehyun?” you’d heard someone say once, scoffing. “he’s like ice—untouchable and impossible to melt.” 

but they didn’t know him like you did. 

they hadn’t seen the way his smile lit up when he saw you across the room or how he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk to keep you safe. they didn’t know how often he sent you random memes with captions that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or how he’d hold out his hand wordlessly when you seemed upset, giving you the option to take it if you wanted comfort.

“you’re so warm, you know,” you’d said to him one day, unable to stop yourself.

he had blinked at you, surprised. “me? warm? no, i’m as cold as antarctica, you know.”

“far from it! you’re wrong, you know,” you retorted simply, watching his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink as he tried to hide his pleased smile.

as the weeks passed, taehyun’s presence became something you craved. his texts were the first thing you looked forward to in the morning, and his voice notes were your favorite way to end the day. his humor, his thoughtfulness, the way he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company… taehyun was now someone you absolutely could not function without.

one time, on a quiet, dreary afternoon, you found yourself on the bus, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally drained from everything that had been going on. the bus was crowded, with people standing along the aisles, and the gentle rocking of the vehicle made it almost impossible to stay awake.

your head bobbed forward, then snapped back upright. you blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of sleep that threatened to overtake you. it was hopeless.

in the midst of the hum of the engine and the low murmur of conversations, you felt a sudden warmth near your shoulder.

taehyun, who had been sitting beside you, noticed your struggle before you even realized it. his eyes softened as he saw your head sway again, and without a second thought, he gently shifted closer.

you barely had time to react before his shoulder was against yours, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"hey," he whispered, his tone soothing, "come here."

confused, you looked up at him just as his hand, warm and steady, reached out and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder. you froze for a moment, the soft pressure of his body against yours both comforting and unexpected.

"you've had a long day," he murmured, his voice low and quiet, meant only for you. "just rest. i’ve got you."

his words, paired with the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, made it impossible to resist. you found yourself closing your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. taehyun's shoulder was a perfect cushion, and for the first time in hours, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

the bus ride felt different now—less harsh, more like a safe cocoon. taehyun was there, and though he didn’t say anything else, he just let you rest against him. his shoulder was warm, and his presence was like a balm to your tired soul.

when you glanced up at him a few moments later, you saw him looking down at you with a soft, almost shy smile, as if he was unsure whether he’d done the right thing.

but the way your head naturally settled back against him told him everything he needed to know.

"thank you," you whispered, barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

taehyun's smile widened slightly, a hint of something sweeter in his gaze. "always."

taehyun was always there—waiting for you after class, sharing random stories, tying your shoelaces for you—but it was subtle. little moments that let you know he cared without even saying it out loud.

you couldn’t help but notice how much effort he put into the smallest things, how he’d remember details you’d mentioned in passing, how he was always looking for ways to make you smile. his affection was like a soft current, pulling you in gently but steadily.

but even with all that, taehyun had been cautious. he didn’t rush, never pressured you to do anything you disliked. he was patient, always giving you space when you needed it, but his actions spoke louder than words—whether it was the way he’d stay beside you no matter how late it was or how he’d make sure you had everything you needed, no questions asked.

deep down, you could tell that he was waiting for the right moment to be honest with you, but it didn’t make the anticipation any less nerve-wracking for him.

then came the night he confessed.

it was under a canopy of stars, the two of you sitting on swings after a spontaneous late-night walk. the cool breeze of the evening gently brushed past, the soft creaking of the swings blending with the distant hum of the city. the moment was peaceful, but there was a quiet tension in the air. taehyun had been unusually quiet, his fingers clasped tightly together as he stared down at the ground, his brows furrowed just slightly.

you glanced at him, sensing the change in his demeanor. “is something wrong?” you asked softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder, trying to draw him back into the comfort of the moment.

he let out a slow exhale, his breath shaky, and finally looked up at you. the nervousness in his eyes was almost tangible, but beneath it was something real—something deep. he shifted slightly, his gaze steady on yours, and then, almost shyly, he spoke.

“i like you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “more than a friend.” his words were simple, but they held so much weight, like a fragile thing that had been built up over time.

you froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat. the world around you seemed to slow, everything fading into the background except for the way taehyun’s gaze lingered on you, full of hope and sincerity.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” he added quickly, his voice almost a little rushed, as if the weight of his confession was making him unsure. his cheeks were dusted with the slightest pink, a sweet vulnerability in his expression. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. but i just... i needed to tell you. because if there’s even a chance that you might like me back, i want to take it. i want to prove it to you. i’ll show you how serious i am about this—about you.”

his words hung in the air, soft and heartfelt, and you could feel every ounce of his sincerity in the way he spoke. there was no rush, no expectation. just a quiet plea for you to see him—not as someone to entertain, but as someone who truly wanted to be with you, if you'd let him.

the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. taehyun wasn’t just saying words, he meant every single one of them.

for a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart swelling with warmth and affection for the boy who stood before you, so open and vulnerable. emotions swirled inside you—surprise, admiration, tenderness—and for a second, everything felt so right. you took a breath, your lips curving into a soft smile, your voice barely above a whisper.

“okay,” you said, the words carrying a gentle promise, “show me.”

the moment those words left your lips, taehyun’s face lit up, his smile breaking through his nervousness like the sun finally breaking through the clouds after a storm. it was bright, sincere, and so full of warmth that it made your heart flutter. his boba eyes sparkled with determination and something sweeter.

“i will,” he promised, his voice more confident now, as if he knew, without a doubt, that he would do everything he could to make you feel the same way. he stepped closer, his smile never fading, the kind of smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him.

and show you he did.

taehyun wasn’t the type to make grand, sweeping gestures—but it was the little things he did that made your heart melt. he noticed everything, from the smallest details to the things you might have overlooked yourself. like how you always took your coffee with just a hint of vanilla syrup, or how you hummed quietly to yourself when you were deep in thought, a soft melody that stuck with him long after you’d stopped.

on days when you seemed stressed, taehyun would appear with your favorite sweets, always knowing just what would cheer you up. whether it was the salty chips you loved or the rich chocolate that made everything feel a little better, he’d show up with a bag of comfort and a smile that said he was there to make everything okay.

“got you your usual,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up as he handed you the sweets like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“taehyun,” you’d laugh, shaking your head, “you’re doing a bit too much..”

“but i want to,” he’d reply with that boyish grin of his. “you deserve it.”

then there was the music. taehyun had an uncanny ability to pick the perfect song for every moment. it wasn’t always the most obvious choice, but it always seemed to hit the mark. he’d send you playlists that felt like warm hugs, the kind that wrapped around you during the long, lonely afternoons, or on days when everything seemed just a little too heavy.

sometimes, he’d even show up with his earphones, insisting that you listen to a song right then and there together with him. "i swear, this one is perfect for today," he’d say, as if he could sense exactly what you needed to hear.

with each small gesture, each laugh, each moment shared, you found yourself falling for him in ways you hadn’t expected. it was slow, gentle—like the songs he’d recommend you that you didn't realize you were already singing along to until it had become a part of you.

taehyun had a way of making everything feel like it was meant to be. and before you knew it, you were already hopelessly, completely, and irrevocably falling for him.

and then came the fight.

it started so small, like a spark that quickly grew into a raging fire. you couldn’t even remember the details clearly—it was one of those moments where everything felt like it was unraveling too fast to catch your breath. all you knew was that something had been said, something that hit harder than either of you expected. maybe it was a misunderstanding, or maybe the weight of unspoken feelings finally broke through, even you could no longer fully remember.

the words spilled out before you could stop them. "don’t talk to me anymore," you’d said, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. "i don’t want to see you ever again."

taehyun’s face had dropped, the hurt in his eyes flashing before he turned away, his lips pressing into a tight line. you couldn’t take the words back, and in that moment, you didn’t know how to fix it. the anger, the misunderstanding—it had all escalated too quickly, and now everything felt wrong.

and he did as you said. like he always does. he didn’t text you, didn’t call, didn’t reach out. it was like he had vanished. the silence stretched on for two weeks, and with every day that passed, the guilt gnawed at you. 

you told yourself it was fine, that it was his decision, that you’d made your point. but deep down, the quiet was suffocating, and you couldn’t escape the feeling that you had hurt him more than you could bear.

the weight of it all pressed on you, thick and suffocating. every moment of silence felt heavier than the last, and the guilt tightened its grip with every passing day. you had told him to leave you alone—to never talk to you again. and now, two weeks later, you were left alone in the quiet, unable to fix the mess you had made.

you didn’t even realize where you were at first. your hands rested on a cold glass, your eyes staring at nothing. your mind had been lost, spiraling through all the things you’d said and the things you wished you hadn’t. everything felt distant, as if you were observing from far away, numb to everything but the regret that swirled inside you.

"hey!"

the sound of your name sliced through your thoughts like a sudden snap. you blinked, snapping out of your reverie, and looked up to see beomgyu. you hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to you until his hand was resting lightly on your shoulder, the soft pressure grounding you.

"you okay?" his voice broke through the haze, sharper than usual, laced with concern. you stared at him, your throat tight, but the words didn’t come.

you could only nod, too choked up to say anything. but beomgyu wasn’t fooled. he was watching you too closely.

"no, really. what’s going on?"

and in that moment, everything crashed over you all over again—the pain of that argument, the hurt in taehyun’s eyes, the silence you had forced between you. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

"is it taehyun?" beomgyu asked softly, as if he already knew.

you didn’t even respond, only looked down at your hands, the shame too much to face him. beomgyu let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer, his voice quieter now. "you can’t just keep pretending this doesn’t hurt, you know."

beomgyu’s words lingered in the air, the quiet weight of them sinking into your chest. you felt the guilt twist in your stomach, tightening like a vice. he wasn’t wrong, and you knew it. but how could you fix it? how could you undo the mess you’ve made?

the tears you’d been holding back welled up, but you blinked them away, frustrated. you didn’t want to break down in front of beomgyu. he was your friend, and you couldn’t let him see how much you were falling apart over someone you didn’t even date.

beomgyu didn’t push you further, though. he just sat there, his presence calm and steady, his hand still on your shoulder, offering comfort in the quietest way. after a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer now.

"look, i get it. you messed up. but you don’t have to carry all this alone." his voice was low, serious in a way that made you feel like he could see straight through you. "you can’t keep punishing yourself for it, either. if you care about him, you should fix it. because i’m telling you, sitting here and stewing in it won’t do anything. he’s hurting too, right?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut. yes, you knew that. you had to face it. he’s hurting too.

you swallowed thickly, your throat dry. "i… i don’t know if i can fix it," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "i said things... that i can’t take back. what if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?"

beomgyu shook his head, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly. "don’t make decisions for him. you can’t move forward if you don’t try." he paused for a moment, looking at you with that serious, knowing expression of his. "but if you want to fix this, you need to be honest. with him... and with yourself."

you stared at him, processing his words, the weight of them sinking in. could you really face taehyun after everything? would he even want to talk to you?

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the room felt suddenly smaller, the pressure building up in your chest. you swallowed, fighting the urge to say something, but instead you just nodded, your voice quiet. "i'll think about it."

beomgyu studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face before he sighed, resigned but understanding. "okay," he said softly. "just don’t wait too long."

with that, he gave you a final, searching look, as if trying to gauge whether you'd actually listen to him or not, before he turned and walked away. his footsteps gradually faded into the background noise of the bar, leaving you in the dim light, alone with your thoughts.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before, suffocating. all the noise of the bar, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the laughter—all of it felt distant now. the weight of your emotions felt like it was closing in, and before you knew it, you were swirling the glass in front of you, the amber liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar. you didn’t want to think about taehyun, about what you had done... but there it was, practically eating you alive.

you reached for your drink, the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat, and the numbness it brought was almost a relief. you didn't have to feel the ache in your chest for a little while. the weight of everything—of the fight, the hurt, the silence—began to feel a little lighter. just a little. you took another sip, and another, and then another.

your mind was swirling, everything a blur of feelings and thoughts that you couldn't quite put together. the alcohol dulled everything, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back in; did he hate you now? did he regret everything he’d done for you? would you ever get to tell him how sorry you were? but the more you thought, the more you drowned in it, and you just… couldn’t deal with it right now.

you glanced around the bar again, the world around you becoming fuzzier and more distant with each drink. beomgyu's words seemed so far away now, but they still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. “you can't keep punishing yourself for it…” you tried to push them away, but they stayed there, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

you took another sip, feeling the warm flush spread through your body. the drink gave you the illusion of peace, but you knew it was temporary. still, it was all you could do to block out the ache.

you weren't sure how long you stayed at the bar, but it felt like hours. eventually, the glass was empty, and the warmth from the alcohol was replaced by an emptiness that wasn’t so easy to fill.

and in that emptiness, your mind drifted back to taehyun.

in your drunken haze, your fingers fumbled around your bag, your vision blurry as your hands seemed to have a mind of their own. the phone felt heavy in your hand, the screen lighting up under your unsteady grip. your heart was racing, the ache in your chest unbearable, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

without fully realizing what you were doing, you found yourself scrolling through your messages with taehyun, the familiar words blurring together through your tears. your mind was a mess, your emotions crashing down around you. but still, you kept reading. you read every message, every sweet word he’d ever sent, each one a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

why had you pushed him away? why did you say those things?

you couldn’t even breathe through the pain, the weight of regret, the heavy, sickening guilt settling over you. the memories flooded your mind, his jokes, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make you smile. and now? now there was nothing. only this cold, crushing silence.

your sobs came suddenly, the tears streaming down your face continuously. you barely even noticed the wetness, the desperation growing in your chest. you missed him. god, how you missed him.

it was like an uncontrollable force now, your hands moving almost involuntarily. through the haze of alcohol and the swirl of emotions clouding your mind, you found yourself tapping on his contact, your fingers shaking violently as the phone buzzed in your hand. no, stop, a part of you screamed. you can't do this.

but it was too late.

your thumb pressed the call button, and the ringing filled your ears, each tone swallowing you further. there was no hope left, only the suffocating weight of your mistake. why would he pick up? you thought, but still, you couldn’t stop. you just needed to hear his voice, even if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

the seconds dragged on, the ringing unrelenting, but it didn’t matter. all you wanted was the chance to fix it, to make things right… even if you knew it was too late.

then suddenly, there was a soft, "hello?"

your heart dropped straight to your stomach, but then came the harsh reality—it was voicemail.

the bitter sting of rejection hit you, but hearing his voice, even distorted by the distance, felt like a jolt of electricity rushing through you. you didn’t care. you couldn’t. all that mattered in that moment was that it was him.

but the floodgates opened.

with a choked sob, you could barely get the words out, your voice breaking, shaking with emotion as the tears flowed freely. why is it so hard to breathe? you thought. why does it feel like my heart is being torn in half?

"taehyun," you gasped, your words slurring and choked with tears. "tyun, please... please, i miss you so much. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it... i was so... so stupid. i-i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i can’t even think straight. i’m sorry... god, i’m so sorry... please forgive me..."

you didn't even care how pathetic you might sound. all you knew was that you needed taehyun—needed him to hear you, to understand, even if it meant spilling every raw feeling in your drunken state. “taehyun, please..” the words slurred out, but they were the only things in your head, the only thing that mattered.

but knowing it was simply voicemail, you simply sat there, defeated. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. each second felt like an eternity, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every passing ring of the phone. your mind was fuzzy, each thought seeming to slip from your grasp before you could hold onto it—

"is that so?"

taehyun's voice suddenly came through, teasing, soft, and a little uncertain. you felt your heart skip, the familiar sound of him sending a rush of warmth through your veins. but something in his tone made you freeze. he was still here. after everything.

his words lingered in the air, and it was as if nothing could escape your mouth, like the weight of your own emotions was too much for your lungs to carry. you didn’t even know if you were dreaming anymore.

“taehyun?” you managed to croak, your voice thick with emotion and alcohol. it was barely more than a whisper, like you were afraid if you spoke too loudly, he'd fade away again. “is it... is it really you?”

taehyun chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, though you could hear a slight edge to it—was he worried? did he know notice how drunk you were?

“you sound… really out of it,” he said, voice tinged with amusement, but there was something gentler behind it. “are you drunk right now, sweetheart?”

you blinked, disoriented, and tried to focus. no, you wanted to say. i’m not drunk, but you knew it was pointless. the words slurred together as they escaped your mouth. “i… no...”

but your words didn’t have the strength you wanted them to. your head swam in a fog of regret and emotions you couldn’t sort through. you couldn't even hold the phone properly anymore—your fingers kept slipping, the edges of your vision swimming.

"taehyun," you muttered, your voice shaking, as if that single name could somehow fix everything. "i'm... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean to hurt you... i—"

"hey..." taehyun interrupted softly, and there was a tenderness in his voice that made your chest ache. “slow down, alright? just breathe. where are you right now?”

the question made your heart race, not because it was unexpected, but because it grounded you, snapping you out of the fog just enough for a moment of clarity. you paused, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept spiraling. where am i? you thought, blinking slowly.

“uh...” you muttered, barely able to focus on anything but the sound of his voice. “i’m... i’m at a bar.”

taehyun was quiet for a moment, his voice softening with concern. “where exactly? where are you? i’ll come to get you.”

you couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you. the idea of seeing him, hearing him in person, made everything else seem so much more bearable. but your tongue felt heavy, and so did your heart, and you couldn’t form the words you needed.

“i don’t... i don’t know, taehyun,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “i just... i just want you back. please... don’t leave me like this.”

taehyun’s voice was gentle, calm despite the worry in it. "i'm not going anywhere. just tell me where you are, and i'll come, okay?"

“the... the bar...” you gasped, your chest tightening. “i... i’m at the bar... it’s... it’s near... ugh... you know... that one cafe across the bus stop—”

“i know where that is. i’m on my way,” taehyun interrupted, his voice firm and reassuring. but there was an undercurrent of something—worry, maybe?—that made you feel even more fragile than before. “wait for me, okay? i’ll be there soon.”

the call ended abruptly, and the instant the silence fell, the gravity of everything hit you. you sat there, your body trembling, your heart aching like it was being torn from your chest. he was coming. taehyun was coming, and it felt like everything; every ounce of pain, every moment of regret… it was starting to slip away, only to be replaced by something even heavier—longing.

you couldn’t stop the tears. the dam you’d tried to hold back broke wide open, your sobs coming in guttural, unrestrained waves. you leaned forward, burying your face in your arms, feeling the world around you spin out of control. the alcohol did nothing but make it all worse, amplifying every raw emotion.

you were glad he was coming, but the relief was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by a dark, suffocating doubt. what if he was only coming out of obligation? what if he was simply doing the right thing—helping a drunken mess of a person get home safely—nothing more, nothing less? the thought lodged itself in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

he was coming, but the emptiness still felt too big, too consuming, as if the distance between you two might be too great for him to bridge.

what if you had ruined everything? what if your careless words, your thoughtless actions, had pushed him too far away, further than you could ever hope to reach again?

the memories of the fight replayed in your mind like a broken record—the sharpness of your voice, the way his expression had crumbled, the silence that followed. you’d told him to leave you alone, and he had. he’d respected your wish, no matter how much it must have hurt him.

and now? now, you were just a drunken mess calling him out of desperation, dragging him back into the chaos you had created.

the thought was unbearable.

your chest tightened, and you hiccupped through another sob, the ache in your heart growing heavier. what if he wasn’t coming because he still cared? what if he was only showing up because he was kind, because that’s who taehyun was—a person who couldn’t leave someone in need, no matter how badly they had hurt him?

you squeezed your eyes shut, the anguish washing over you in waves. you could still hear his voice from the call, soft and warm, but it felt so far away now. you missed him so much it physically hurt, the ache deep in your chest twisting and pulling until you couldn’t think straight.

a sob clawed its way out of your throat as your hands fisted the fabric of your blouse, desperate to hold yourself together, desperate to stop the pain from consuming you whole. your voice broke as you whispered his name into the void with a sniffle, barely audible—just a breath, a plea, a prayer.

“i’m here.”

the words were soft but steady, cutting through the chaos in your mind like a knife. something warm and comfy settled over your shoulders—a jacket. his jacket, that has his scent. familiar. comforting. your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare believe it.

but then you dared to turn your head towards him.

and there he was.

taehyun stood beside you, his boba eyes filled with worry, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you carefully. his presence hit you like a tidal wave, a flood of emotions surging all at once—relief, longing, guilt, overwhelming love. your heart ached at the sight of him, so real, so close, after so many nights of missing him.

“let’s go home, hm?” taehyun says, his voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter you.

and that was your final straw.

you stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest as the tears came harder, pouring out of you like a flood that refused to be held back any longer. his scent surrounded you, comforting and achingly familiar, and his arms—those same arms you had missed more than you could ever say—wrapped around you tightly.

for a moment, his hold was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him there. but as your fingers clung to his shirt with a desperation you couldn’t hide, his embrace grew firmer, enveloping you completely.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in broken fragments. “i’m so sorry, taehyun. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it. i was stupid. i-i hurt you, and i’m so sorry.”

his chin rested against the top of your head as his hand gently cradled the back of it, his other arm steady around your waist. “shh,” he murmured, his voice a steady balm against the chaos inside you. “it’s okay. you’re okay. we’ll talk about it later, yeah? right now, let’s just get you home.”

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, raw and desperate. “please don’t leave me,” you whispered, your voice breaking with every syllable.

his grip on you tightened, and the steady beat of his heart against your ear was the only thing grounding you in that moment. “i’m not leaving,” he said firmly, the quiet conviction in his voice slicing through the storm in your chest. “i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

his words pulled a fresh wave of sobs from you, but this time, they were different—softer, like the beginning of a release from all the pain you’d been holding in. you buried your face deeper into his chest, his shirt dampening with your tears, as his hand traced soothing patterns against your back.

taehyun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. his gaze softened, as he gently wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks, 

"hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like everything. "no more crying, hm? you don’t have to worry anymore.”

his words, simple yet so full of meaning, made something inside you shift. the storm in your chest began to quiet, and in that moment, you could feel the weight of the world lifting, if only a little.

he didn't rush, didn't push you to say anything, just held you, grounding you with the steady presence of his hands on your face. the warmth of his touch seeped through you, and you felt like you could breathe again, even if it was shaky and uncertain.

with a gentle smile, taehyun guided you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you into a tender embrace that felt like home—safe, warm, and unhurried.

"come on," taehyun said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "let's go home now. one step at a time, okay?"

you nodded, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter, a little more manageable now that he was here with you. taehyun helped you stand, his hand in yours, steady and sure as he guided you forward. with every soft step, you felt less adrift, the familiar warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

but as you walked outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin, your steps wavered. the alcohol still clouded your head, and your balance faltered. you tried to steady yourself, but your legs felt like jelly, and your head spun.

taehyun noticed instantly. his gaze softened with concern, and without missing a beat, he bent down, effortlessly lifting you onto his back in a piggyback. you barely had time to protest before you were safely cradled against him, your body fitting perfectly into his like it was meant to be.

"hey, hey, easy," he murmured, his voice gentle and full of reassurance as he adjusted his grip on you. you could feel the steady strength of his muscles beneath you, the warmth of his back against your chest, supporting you in every way, like he was carrying the weight of your whole world on his shoulders. it was natural, comforting.

he chuckled lightly, the sound of it like music to your ears, warm and comforting, easing some of the tension in your chest. "hold on tight, alright? i’ve got you," he said softly, a promise in those words, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

you couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering tears, feeling his steady warmth against you. you rested your head against his back, the comfort of his presence washing over you. every step he took felt like an anchor, unyielding and stable, guiding you forward.

there was a long, still silence between you two, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words. taehyun's movements were steady, and the warmth of his body against yours was grounding, even though your mind was in a whirlwind. but still, you couldn't help the gnawing anxiety that kept bubbling up, the fear that it might all be slipping through your fingers.

and then, like a whisper breaking through the quiet, you muttered, "i'm sorry." the words tasted like regret on your tongue, and you could feel your chest tightening again. "i'm so sorry... for everything. for pushing you away when i didn't mean it. for saying all those things."

taehyun let out a soft, amused sigh, his tone warm and tender. "you don’t need to apologize so much, you know.” he reassured you gently. "i understand. i understand more than you know."

the comfort of his words helped, but the weight of your vulnerability lingered. the tears you’d tried to hide earlier began to build up again, and before you knew it, the words spilled out, trembling, “i was just so scared that... that i’d lost you.. that you didn’t like me anymore.. that i messed everything up...”

taehyun’s steps faltered for a moment, and you could feel the subtle shift in his energy, as if everything in him had softened in response to your confession. you didn’t mess anything up, alright?" he replies again, his voice warm, "and there’s no way i could ever stop liking you. that’s impossible, and you should know that by now."  

but even with his reassurance, the fear still gnawed at you, the uncertainty that had been hanging over you for weeks. you couldn’t help it—your heart was aching, your soul yearning for something deeper, something more than what you’d had before.

"taehyun," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, "does that… does that mean you’ll still accept me? even after everything? i... i want to be yours. i want to be with you, really with you."

taehyun froze.

the words hit him harder than you expected. for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much, too fast. his body tensed, and the silence between you stretched thick, heavy with the weight of your confession. you felt a sudden wave of panic rush over you, the fear that you’d pushed him too far this time, the fear that maybe he wasn’t ready for this. maybe it was too much, too soon. maybe—

but then, taehyun spoke.

his voice was soft, but there was a clear surprise in it, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. "wait, really…?" he asked, his words laced with disbelief, as if your confession had taken him off guard in the sweetest way possible.

he didn’t let go of you, though. instead, he sighed softly, his breath shaky but filled with affection. "we’ll talk about it when you're sober, okay?" he said, though there was an undeniable tenderness in his tone. 

you felt your heart skip a beat, but there was still an edge of insecurity in you that wouldn’t go away. you leaned closer, your voice a little more insistent, even though you knew you were being a little reckless, “but taehyun, i’m serious. i really mean it.”

there was a pause, the world seemingly holding its breath as he stopped walking entirely. for a long moment, the only sound was your breathing, and his fingers tightening slightly on yours, like he was trying to hold you in place without letting go. and then, to your surprise, taehyun chuckled softly, like a wave of warmth filling the space between you two.

"you really are, huh?" he said, his voice fond, teasing, and so full of affection. "alright, alright. but we’ll talk about this when you’re not so drunk, okay?"

you huffed playfully, leaning your forehead against his back as you clung to him a little tighter. "i really mean it, taehyun. i’m not just saying this because i’m drunk. i want you. like, really. i want to be with you."

taehyun’s laughter echoed again, gentle and affectionate. "i know you do," he said softly, his voice laced with something deeper now, something more certain. "and i want you, too. but for now, let’s get you home. we’ll figure it all out, okay? together."

the tenderness in his words, the way he held you so carefully, so patiently, made everything feel like it was finally falling into place. everything, all the uncertainty and fear, seemed to melt away with the simple truth that he was here, with you, and no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

the weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long finally lifted, and you let out a shaky, relieved breath. taehyun’s voice was a steady anchor, his touch a reassurance that no matter the storm, no matter the doubts or mistakes, he would always be there. for you. always.

taglist! @pagelets @jettithink @killa-1009 @j-ji-jia <3 (lmk if you wanna be added !)

[deepsixsquid]

It Has Been Quite A Day

[selamat-linting]

resignation letter is the most potent painkiller. i love you resignation letter i love you one month notice <3

[cognitiveoverload]

Craving (Aaron Hotchner x reader? Does it count?)

summary: Hotch shows up in your hotel room after the events of 2x19.

note: Kinda pathetic!Hotch if you ask me. Wants to be with reader despite still being married, but she says no.

After emotionally draining cases you’re usually a heavy sleeper, so no wonder you only wake up when the mattress dips in the hotel room you’re staying in. You jolt awake, eyes snapping open to see who got in the bed on the empty side next to you, and you’re shocked to see the man who wraps an arm around you as if it was the most natural thing, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Hotch, what are you doing here?” you ask, fighting the urge to bury your fingers into his hair to soothe him.

Because he’s clearly under the weather, and his warm breath smells like whisky as he rests his chin on your collar bone to look at you. “I don’t want to be alone,” he mutters.

There has always been tension between you, but he’s married, there was no way you would ever even think of giving into that feeling. Having him here, though, makes you wonder just how deep are his feelings for you. He’s not blackout drunk, he probably only drank like two glasses, but thanks to the vulnerable state of mind he was in earlier, it’s no surprise that it got the best of him.

“How did you even get in?” 

He lets out a sigh, then a small smile appears on his lips. “I have my methods,” he replies.

This sentence is followed by a soft sigh, but he remains silent for a minute or two, as if he’s contemplating how to say what’s on his mind. His thumb is rubbing circles into your arm, and while your brain knows you should stop him, you simply can’t get yourself to send him away. He doesn’t want to be alone, and there’s something he wants to talk about.

So, you wait. Rushing him wouldn’t help, and he’s stubborn enough to take his time opening up. Sometimes you wonder if he ever tells Haley about work stuff, or if he keeps it to himself since she has a lot on her plate already because of Jack. Either way, what happened earlier today definitely hit him where it hurt the most.

“It’s my fault,” he finally speaks up, his voice unusually quiet. You tilt your head to the side, urging him to explain. “I should have known, I should have gone there to see if I could help, now there’s a kid without a father and—”

You shook your head without thinking, a hand moving up to push his hair back. “It’s not your fault. You’re not a mind reader, Hotch, you couldn’t have known what he was planning,” you try.

“Aaron.” You let out a questioning hum, but he doesn’t answer, instead he moves a little to place a featherlight kiss on your exposed skin, followed by another, and another at an agonizingly slow pace. “Call me Aaron. I hate it that you call me Hotch too,” he mumbles against your skin.

“You’re my boss, I’m not calling you Aaron,” you point out.

“But we could be so much more than that. You mean so much more to me.” 

Before you can say anything, he moves just enough to be able to kiss you—a gentle, soft kiss that feels so good, but also forbidden. You cup his face, pushing him away just enough to look into his eyes. There’s a mixture of sadness and lust in there, but you know you can’t give in, you can’t let him win this one. 

Deciding that this is your best chance to set boundaries, you move past him as you sit up, watching the way he turns on his back with a groan. “For one, you’re my boss. And second, you’re married. Keep that in mind,” you warn him.

He loosens his tie and props on his elbows. “Yeah, right, a marriage that’s falling apart,” he notes bitterly. When you give him a questioning look, he goes on. “It seems like no matter how hard I try, I can’t be the husband she wants. This job is demanding, sure, but… I don’t know.”

“You need to sleep,” you tell him kindly, not having the heart to be harsh after what he just told you. 

This confession explains the phone calls that always left him grim, but you don’t feel like prying for more details. You know that he loves his family, what he just told you must have come from the desperation caused by the trouble at home and this recent case you just closed. It can’t be more than that.

Hotch opens his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything for now, he just watches you with an unreadable expression. “I’ll have to return to give the letter to Abby’s son. That’s the least I can do,” he suddenly says, lying back down, but he faces you. “Come with me.”

You take a deep breath as you watch him, but then you pick up your phone from the nightstand and put on the robe you left on the foot of the bed. “I’ll beg JJ to let me sleep in her room. Or I’ll take yours since you’re clearly planning to stay here,” you tell him. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbles, his face already buried into the pillow your head rested on a few minutes ago.

[mykneeshurt]

How would 141 boys react if the reader (female) has a tendency to be unintentionally lewd and radiates submissive energy. Example: looking up at them with frowned brows, doe eyes and teeth biting onto their lips as they listen to them. Always responding with ���yes sir, yes lieutenant, yes please, please ghost” even for the minor inconvenience. Moaning/groaning when they are pissed or tired. Always slipping out something inappropriate like “Lt can you pull my hair?” “Si, can you tie my hair in a ponytail (while the reader is knelt down)” “cap zip my pants please it’s stuck” until one day they finally break and have their ways with the reader, teaching her a lesson for being a tease (sorry the prompt is a bit long)

Lmao I am this person, I don’t mean to be hahaha. F!reader

Price 🥃

It started with a simple moan, you stretched in your seat after a pretty long and intense meeting. You arched your back over the top of your seat and let slip a satisfied moan. No one else caught it but Price did.

It happened again after a sparring session, you massaged your thigh as a string of moans fell past your lips. He tried not to listen, tried to focus on the fight in front of him. ‘So tight’ you muttered to yourself, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on your Captain.

The third time you were summoned to his office and as you walked in your hit your elbow on the door. Rather than swearing or saying ow like a normal person you again, moaned.

He’d had enough. Price threw his pen down and stormed over to the door locking it. Pinning you against the wall he cupped your jaw ‘gonna make you moan for real love.’

Soap 🧼

You and Soap were close but there was underlying tension, ever since you first met. You danced along it never crossing the line.

You were a tactile person. Very touchy feely, you loved human contact. You loved giving hugs in the nicest most innocent way possible, but Soap found it incredibly difficult to keep his thought pure.

Your breasts pushed into him, accentuating your cleavage every damn time. You’d look up at him with innocence written all over your face. When ever he’d hug you back a content sigh would always fill the gap between you.

A hand on a shoulder there, a pat on a thigh there, innocent little touches but coming from you? They felt like fire to him. He knew you were being nice, this is who you were but the way your touch lingered, killed him every time.

It came to a head after a pretty tough mission, everyone was emotionally drained. Hugs always made you feel better, so naturally you hugged Soap. As he tightened his grip you did that damned sigh, pulling back he stared into your eyes before placing the most tender and loving kiss on your lips. He finally got a different type of hug later that night, one he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Ghost 💀

Ghost had always watched you from a distance, regarding you. You reeked of submissive energy to him, always eager to please. Always so polite. ‘Yes sir.’ ‘Yes Lieutenant.’ Your voice always so sultry and pleading. He had to keep to his distance, you were destroying him.

Which is why he was dreading having to ask you if you could fix his tac pants. You were good at sewing so the 141 lads would often ask you to fix their clothes. You obliged because why wouldn’t you.

You’d forced him to try on the trousers that needed fixing so you could assess the damage. As you knelt down you tied your hair into a ponytail and looked up at him. Huge innocent doe eyes a warm smile plastered over your face.

You poked and pulled at the fabric to see if it could be fixed, completely unaware of Ghosts growing erection. He tried desperately to think of something else, but seeing you on your knees in front of him? He couldn’t take it.

He lifted your jaw with two fingers, and wiped his thumb over your bottom lip. That’s when you bit it. Game over. His trousers were soon down to his ankles stuffing your throat with his cock.

Gaz 🇬🇧

It had been a freezing day whilst doing the drills set out by the captain. So cold in fact your couldn’t move your fingers. ‘Gaaaaaaz’ you drawled innocently ‘can you undo my pants please? I can’t move my fingers.’ He hated how sweetly you said his name. He’d move mountains for you if you asked.

He pulled you in close to him as he tugged at your trousers. He could feel his heart pounding, once he’d finished you gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Meaning nothing by it, but it’s all he thought about.

After another long training day you were all sat in the rec room, you leant against Gaz and asked for a head massage. Sitting in between his legs he pulled out your pony tail causing you to drop your head back into his lap and moan at the release of pressure. Instantly he felt himself become hard.

It only got worse from there. As his massaged your head small moans and gasps came from your mouth. At this point it was late and it was only you two in the room. He couldn’t take anymore. Placing his hand along your neck you offered him a devilish smile.

The rest is history, you spend all night with his cock buried in you as he drank your moans like a sweet nectar.

[batfamily14]

My personal take on how anger looks on the batboys part.1:

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson is eerily silent when he’s angry, which feels almost uncharacteristic for him. Instead of letting his emotions out, he broods and intentionally withdraws, refusing to give his attention to those he’s upset with. He bottles everything up until it inevitably explodes, leading to messy arguments that often leave everyone involved feeling emotionally drained.

The worst part is when he smiles—because it’s not the playful grin everyone’s used to. It’s chilling. That’s when you know he’s on the edge. It’s a warning, and if you push him past that, he can raise his voice in a way that cuts through the air—loud, rough, and sharp.

Dick’s also got a sailor’s mouth when he’s truly frustrated. If you push him far enough, he’ll swear like nobody’s business. It’s best to give him space when he’s like this, because the storm has already started, and there’s no telling when it’ll pass.

Jason Todd:

Depending on the situation, Jason Todd is the kind of person who’ll laugh when you cry. It’s harsh, but he makes no apologies for it. If you pick a fight with him and start breaking down, he WILL laugh in your face. No sympathy, no remorse—just a bitter kind of humor.

When he’s angry, Jason’s vocabulary becomes a weapon. He swears with precision, using every curse word in the book, and that’s when you’ll see his temper come to life. He’s the type to get right up in your face, towering over you, radiating pure rage. If his face turns red and his hands start shaking, you’d better get out of the room because he’s on the verge of snapping.

Jason’s also a master at reading people. If the fight goes deep enough, he’ll start picking apart your insecurities, one by one, with cold, brutal efficiency. The longer you push, the more he’ll dig in and exploit your weaknesses.

And, unsurprisingly, Jason’s a screamer. When he’s angry, he doesn’t bottle things up like Dick—he’ll let you know exactly how he feels, right then and there. His emotions are raw and explosive, and he won’t hesitate to unleash them on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in his path.

[kinzhae]

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Marriage Of Steel ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

In a world where power and family ties define one's worth, [Y/N], a strong-willed woman from a neglected jujutsu clan, is married off to the aloof and powerful Satoru Gojo. Alone in a lavish yet cold estate, she struggles to find her footing as she faces both the isolation of her marriage and the whispers of disrespect from those around her. Determined not to be overshadowed, [Y/N] fights to assert herself in a world that expects her to be docile, all while grappling with her growing feelings for a husband who remains distant and emotionally unreachable. -Historical Au!

This is a Gojo x Fem!Reader series, I have posted this on wattpad already if you guys want to read it here is the link. This is a historical au! This series will be written by reader's POV. Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Morning sunlight filtered through the thin silk curtains, casting a soft glow over the spacious room. I lay still in bed, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling, my thoughts an unrelenting spiral.

How did I end up here?

The events of the past two weeks felt surreal, like I’d been swept into a current I couldn’t escape. An arranged marriage to the renowned Satoru Gojo of all people—the prodigy of the Gojo clan, with more influence and power than most could ever dream of. I was no stranger to responsibility or duty; my own clan had drilled it into me since birth. But nothing had prepared me for this.

For being a wife.

For being alone.

The estate was grand, more luxurious than anything I’d known, yet it felt hollow. Its vast halls and pristine gardens were unfamiliar, filled with people who barely acknowledged me—or worse, whispered behind my back. And then there was Satoru, my husband in name only. He was rarely here, always consumed by his duties or disappearing for reasons he never cared to explain.

I exhaled sharply and sat up, pushing the blankets aside. If I stayed in this bed any longer, I’d suffocate on my own frustration.

Dressed and ready for the day, I stepped into the halls, my footsteps echoing against the polished floors. I had no destination in mind, only a need to move, to shake off the weight pressing on my chest.

As I passed the sitting room, the sound of hushed voices caught my attention. I paused, listening.

“She doesn’t belong here,” a voice said, sharp and derisive.

My jaw clenched.

“She’s not fit to be the lady of this house,” the maid continued. “Walking around like she owns the place. I could do her job better than she ever could.”

“Be quiet,” another maid urged, her tone nervous. “If anyone hears you—”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

My hand tightened around the edge of the doorframe. I stepped inside deliberately, my presence cutting the conversation short. The maids froze, their faces draining of color.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, my voice cold. “Please, continue.”

The bold one opened her mouth, likely to deny everything, but I raised a hand to silence her.

“You think you can disrespect me in my own house?” I demanded, my tone sharp enough to make her flinch. “Do you think your position here gives you that right?”

The other maids glanced at one another, panic clear in their eyes, but the offending maid stood rooted to the spot, her face pale but defiant.

“I’ll teach you to know your place,” I said, my anger boiling over. “You—fetch me a stick. A small, sturdy one.”

The maid hesitated, but my glare sent her scurrying.

I held the stick tightly, glaring down at the maid who’d insulted me. “Hold out your hand,” I ordered.

She hesitated, trembling slightly, but didn’t move. My grip on the stick tightened. “Do it. Now.”

“Enough.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade, its quiet authority freezing me in place. I turned sharply to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His butler stood just behind him, silent and composed.

“What’s going on here?” Satoru asked, his eyes flicking from me to the maid and back again.

“She insulted me,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

His gaze dropped to the stick in my hand. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps measured. Without a word, he plucked the stick from my grasp, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, turning his attention to the maid. “You’re dismissed. Permanently.”

The maid paled further, tears welling in her eyes as she stammered apologies. Satoru’s butler stepped forward, escorting her from the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded once the room was empty, my anger rekindling.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Satoru replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You don’t need to resort to... this.”

“She disrespected me,” I shot back. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m beneath them.”

“Respect is earned, not forced,” he said.

“Spare me the lecture,” I snapped. “You’re barely here, and when you are, you act like I don’t exist. Don’t pretend you care how I’m treated.”

His expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, perhaps. Or guilt.

“Do what you want,” he said after a moment, turning to leave. “Just don’t cause a scandal.”

The confrontation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stormed back to my quarters, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Emiko,” I called, summoning my new maid. She appeared quickly, her kind face a small comfort.

“Yes, milady?”

“We’re going out,” I announced, not bothering to mask my irritation. “Prepare the carriage.”

Emiko hesitated but nodded. As she adjusted my hair and straightened my clothes, her quiet presence calmed me slightly.

“Are you alright, milady?” she asked softly.

I glanced at her, startled by the question. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, then softened. “Thank you, Emiko.”

As the carriage pulled up to the estate gates, Satoru appeared on horseback, his arrival as inconvenient as it was imposing.

“And where are you going?” he asked, dismounting with practiced ease.

“Shopping,” I replied shortly, climbing into the carriage.

“With no escort?”

I bristled. “I don’t need an escort. I can protect myself.”

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But strength doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not a child, Satoru.”

“No, but you’re my wife,” he said simply. “And I won’t have anything happen to you.”

I glared at him, but his calm resolve didn’t waver. Finally, I sighed, relenting just enough to allow one of the guards to accompany me.

I grumbled as Emiko handed a note to the driver, and moments later, a young guard appeared, bowing stiffly before climbing up to sit with the driver.

“You gave in?” Emiko asked softly, settling beside me.

“Barely,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Let him think he won this time. It’s not worth the argument.”

Emiko’s lips twitched, but she wisely said nothing.

As the carriage rolled forward, I glanced out the window, catching a fleeting glimpse of Satoru riding ahead, his figure disappearing into the crowded streets.

The ride was quite bumpy, Emiko kept talking about romance novels, everytime she mentions her favorite characters her eyes lit up and her speech got more faster. I also liked to read romance book's, at my own estate before I got married I used spent a lot of times reading books or cooking secretly.

My father and my mother were not in love, so growing up I didn't get any attention from both of them. My nanny was the one who always took care of me since I was a kid, she tought me to be polite, helpful and put people in their place if they deserved it. She also used to talk about "marriage, love, bounds." which is not a familiar words for me.

Nanny Miyako and her husband who worked as a chef in our estate was madly in love with each other, whenever she was taking care of me she would tell me about her sweet marriage and how she wanted a kid of their own but that was not possible yet she never complained about it and saw me as her own kid and raised me well.

My marriage with Gojo Clan's son, Gojo Satoru was not anything special. After the wedding he just simply disappeared for his 'mission' and ever since we barely saw eachother. The breakfasts and dinners were quiet since I eat by myself, when the maid's are busy I just walk around the big estate. I wasn't really fond of the maids, gojo and I were distant so they took a chance to gossip things about me behind my back like I didn't exist there.

"Milady, we arrived." Emiko got up and hopped off the carriage easily, I glanced outside before taking her hand and getting off the carriage.

The bustling streets enveloped us as Emiko and I wandered deeper into the marketplace. The vibrant energy of the crowd, combined with the enticing displays of goods, began to chip away at the irritation I’d carried all morning. The occasional clink of coins in my pouch reminded me that this outing was mine to control. Unlike at the estate, where every move felt scrutinized or dictated, here, I had a say.

We passed by a vendor selling bolts of exquisite fabric, their rich colors catching the sunlight. Emiko gasped, tugging gently at my sleeve.

“Milady, look at this!” She pointed to a deep crimson silk embroidered with gold threads. “This would make a stunning evening gown.”

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the smooth fabric. “How much for this one?” I asked the vendor.

“For you, my lady,” he said with a practiced smile, “five ryo.”

I raised a brow at the steep price. “Four, and I’ll take two yards,” I countered.

He hesitated, clearly torn between sealing the deal and holding out for more. Finally, he nodded. “Four ryo it is.”

Reaching into my pouch, I retrieved the coins and handed them over. The transaction felt satisfying, a small but significant reminder of my independence.

Emiko watched the exchange with wide eyes. “Milady, you’re so confident. I’ve never seen someone bargain so effortlessly.”

I smiled faintly. “If you don’t know the value of something, someone else will decide it for you. That’s a lesson I learned young.”

As the vendor wrapped the fabric, I felt the familiar prickling sensation of being watched again. Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of the guard still trailing us at a discreet distance. My fingers tightened around the pouch at my waist, irritation bubbling anew.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, my tone clipped. Emiko followed without question, her cheerful demeanor softening the edges of my frustration.

The next shop we entered was filled with sparkling jewelry, the pieces displayed under soft candlelight to enhance their brilliance. My gaze fell on a delicate necklace adorned with a single emerald, its simplicity drawing me in.

“How much for this one?” I asked.

The jeweler hesitated, sizing me up before naming a price. I didn’t bother haggling this time, simply pulling the appropriate amount from my pouch. Emiko watched with admiration as I paid, her enthusiasm almost childlike as she admired the necklace.

“It’s beautiful, milady,” she said. “It suits you perfectly.”

I held it up, watching the light catch on the emerald. “Perhaps,” I murmured, slipping it into a small velvet pouch before tucking it away.

By the time we returned to the carriage, my pouch was significantly lighter, but my mood was brighter. Emiko chattered happily as we climbed inside, her hands carefully holding the wrapped fabric.

“Do you always carry your own money, milady?” she asked as the carriage started to move.

I glanced at her, amused by the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “most ladies rely on their husbands to—”

I cut her off with a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Not me. My father may have treated me like a pawn, and my husband may not care enough to notice, but I’ll never rely on anyone to take care of me. If I want something, I’ll earn it—or pay for it myself.”

Emiko smiled, her admiration clear. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever served, milady. It’s... inspiring.”

Her words were a small comfort, a reassurance that even in a world where I often felt unseen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Chapter 2⋯⋅๑┈•✦

[talkdutchtome]

"You're my forever" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . angst with fluffy end )

wc . . . 1250 words )

read my other work . . . here )

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It was supposed to be a chill night out with your girlfriends, but when you turned up to the bar in tears; things ended up taking a turn. It only took a few tequila shots to spill what was on your mind to your friends. You and your boyfriend Max had gotten into a huge argument as you were getting ready to go out. You had been planning to introduce him to your parents for weeks now, and thanks to his busy schedule it had taken such a long time to find a date that suited everyone; but you had managed it. You found a date that worked and arranged everything, it was finally going to happen. Until Max informed you that he actually needed to be in the factory that day and therefore wasn’t going to make it.  

As the argument with Max replayed in your mind, you couldn't help but feel the surge of frustration all over again. It hurt, a lot. This was so important to you, and he knew that, you had checked he was free multiple times but he waited until two days before to tell you that he wasn’t going to make it. He had dismissed your feelings, brushing off the significance of meeting your parents as if it were inconsequential. Your patience had worn thin with his constant excuses and last-minute cancellations. The tension between you had been simmering for weeks, and this was just the tipping point. 

In the heat of the argument, harsh words were exchanged, wounds were reopened, and insecurities surfaced. You questioned the commitment of your relationship, wondering if Max truly understood your needs and priorities. Each accusation fuelled the fire of resentment, leaving both of you wounded and emotionally drained. 

But as you recounted the events to your friends, their sympathetic ears and flowing drinks provided a temporary escape from the pain. With each shot of tequila, the sharp edges of your hurt dulled, and the weight of disappointment lifted. Laughter replaced tears as you immersed yourself in the lively atmosphere of the bar, surrounded by the warmth of friendship. 

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, you found yourself sinking deeper into a drunken haze. Your laughter became louder, your movements more unsteady, until you could barely stand on your own two feet. Your friends exchanged concerned glances as they realized you had gone past the point of no return. 

With a collective decision, they reached for their phones, dialling Max's number in a bid to get you home safely. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the bar, concern etched on his face as he scanned the crowded room for you. 

When he finally spotted you, his heart squeezed with a mixture of worry and affection. You were slumped against the bar, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over. As he approached, you caught sight of him and instinctively turned away, crossing your arms and pouting like a sulking child. 

Max couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of you. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked, even in your drunken state. He settled down beside you, gently coaxing you to look at him and assuring you that everything was going to be okay. 

For a while, you remained stubbornly silent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But as Max persisted, his patient demeanour slowly chipped away at your defences. Eventually, you relented, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and guide you out of the bar. 

The cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, momentarily sobering you up as Max led you to his car. Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, you leaned heavily against him, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. As Max settled you into the passenger seat, you couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to rest your head on his shoulder. With a gentle smile, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead before starting the engine and driving off into the night. 

As the car rolled down the familiar streets towards your home, Max stole glances at you, his heart heavy with concern. He wanted to address the issues that had caused the argument earlier, but seeing your bleary-eyed state, he knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he focused on getting you back safely. 

Once inside your apartment, Max gently guided you to your bedroom, helping you out of your party clothes and into your cozy pajamas. With practiced care, he wiped away the remnants of makeup from your face, knowing how much you disliked waking up with a face caked in cosmetics. 

As he tucked you into bed, Max couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the hurt he had caused you. He wished he could turn back time and make things right, but for now, all he could do was ensure you were comfortable and cared for. 

The next morning, you stirred from your slumber, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to you in fragmented memories. As you blinked blearily, your gaze fell upon the glass of water and painkillers sitting on your bedside table. 

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what Max had done. Despite the unresolved tensions between you, his gesture spoke volumes about his concern for your well-being. With a grateful sigh, you reached for the glass, downing the painkillers in one gulp before sipping the water. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, the comforting aroma of your favorite breakfast filled the air, and your heart swelled with gratitude towards Max. He stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a focused expression, and you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly took care of you. 

"Hey," you greeted softly, offering him a warm smile. 

Max turned towards you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling this morning?" 

You shrugged, trying to downplay any lingering effects of the previous night's festivities. "Not too bad, actually. Thanks for asking." 

"Good," Max replied, his expression softening with relief. He moved to sit beside you, his hand finding yours as he spoke. "Listen, about last night... I'm really sorry for not prioritizing our relationship. I know meeting your parents was important, and I should've made more of an effort to be there for you." 

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a wave of understanding washing over you. "It's okay, Max. I appreciate you saying that." 

He sighed, his gaze earnest as he continued. "I've rescheduled my day at the factory so I can make it to the meeting with your parents. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us. I know racing won't last forever, but you... you're my forever. And I need to treat you better" 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you listened to Max's heartfelt words. Despite the challenges you faced, his unwavering love and commitment never faltered, and you felt a surge of gratitude for having him in your life. 

"I love you, Max," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. 

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling you into a tender embrace. 

As you melted into his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his love and the promise of a brighter future together, you couldn’t help but be thankful to have somebody who loved you so much in your life 

[almostempty]

dieter's party (dieter x f!reader)

Dieter’s party (dieter bravo x f!reader) | wc: 3k | other fics 

summary: after fighting with your bf and reluctantly attending a party, you find yourself complaining to the host who offers to let you sleep off your emotional hangover headache in the pool house. when your boyfriend finally shows up, it’s a welcome surprise and you accept his apology in the form of sex. but, when you wake up in the morning you’re faced with another surprise. 

note: this is my other version of the accidental adultery trope, only it’s the involuntary cheating/wrong bed trope bc that’s what i thought the prompt was originally! other version is here with stalker!frankie. (this is like a month late for the actual challenge but time is an illusion idc; it’s for u bb @auteurdelabre) 

warnings/tags: explicit mdni, smut, this IS noncon– but it’s not dark vibes (like how the wrong bed trope in media is somehow played off as a ~hehe whoops~ ???), infidelity/cheating, oral sex, piv, prone bone, drugs mentioned at the party but reader and dieter are sober, boyfriend frankie, again, i repeat, this is noncon- but they’re not real and also they’re into it, REAL LOOSEY GOOSEY flimsy plot pls don’t poke at it there are already enough holes to drain ur pasta, kind of ooc dieter tbh  

standard warnings for me at this point: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes aka no beta and limited editing on this bish 

You sit sideways on the lounge chair, digging your toes into the sand and massaging your temples. The voices from the party behind you are easier to tune out as you look out over the water. The adrenaline rush of your anger has passed, and now you’re just left with a throbbing headache. 

It’s not a bad view. But you resent it anyway. You’ve been abandoned by your friend who dragged you to the party in the first place. She’d assured you that it would be low key, just some people on mushrooms having a bonfire on a private beach. The names and the drugs didn’t sell you on it, but the free night at a fancy beach house was appealing

You didn’t know anyone else, and she’d assured you she’d stick with you until your boyfriend showed up. But so far nothing had gone to plan. The cute little beach house is actually more like a mansion. There is technically a fire on the beach and people on some kind of hallucinogenics, but there’s also a party by the pool, and rooms filled with people on the main floor of the house. 

Your friend folded immediately–swooped up by the hot production assistant that told her about the party. You weren’t keen to follow them as they disappeared in search of a quieter room in the house to play tonsil hockey. 

You don’t really blame her. Your boyfriend was supposed to be meeting you anyway. Or, at least, he was before you’d got in another argument before he went to work. You’re miserable when the two of you are on bad terms. 

Frankie and you are both stubborn and can dig your heels in over the smallest arguments. Currently, you don’t actually know if he’s giving you the silent treatment or if he’s just working late. Either way, you figure you’re allowed to be a little pathetic over the situation. 

Yet, you can’t even slink off to have your moody moment watching the waves and the stars. Someone is walking up behind you causing you to sigh. Stiffening, you turn to address none other than the life of the party himself, Dieter Bravo. 

He’s undeniably nice to look at, but you’re still moping. Emotionally hungover and irritable. And stuck at loaded jagoff’s party full of nobody you particularly want to get to know. 

“Party is that way,” you point past him towards the pool surrounded by drunk people with shiny white veneers and ugly jewelry. He’s unfazed by your snark and sits down next to you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” His voice is low and sexy in a stupid movie star way that makes you roll your eyes. 

“That’s not even a clever line,” you chastise him. 

He flashes a grin at you that makes it hard to keep up the glum aura. 

Whatever they say about actors looking better in person rather than on camera is true, and even more so when they’re sitting so close you can smell their expensive cologne. He’s dressed more casually than the rest of the party, but you wonder if it’s part of the quiet luxury mystique with the four hundred dollar t-shirts or if you’re overestimating his net worth. 

Dieter likes a challenge. The more you try to shut him down, the more he turns on the charm and flirts with you brazenly. You aren’t immune. He’s fucking hot, and that builds up your ego. You figure it’s harmless to flirt. You’re busy complaining about the social climbers in attendance and how they must be inflating the ego of whichever rich asshole is throwing the party, when he cuts you off. 

“And which one are you? Social climber or rich asshole?” He asks, squinting at you like he’s going to take a guess. You play into it, making a few exaggerated model poses–framing your face with your hands and batting your lashes–for him to base his decision off of. 

He grins at you with a dazzling smile that makes you break character and laugh. But he doesn’t laugh with you. He just keeps his eyes on you, his sparkling dark brown eyes. Suddenly the moment feels charged, you didn’t realize you were so close, face to face. 

“Time’s up,” you say, “I’m neither.” But he’s looking at your lips now and you’re hyper aware of your heart beating faster. Until his hand slips onto your knee and you balk, turning away with a sharp inhale to recenter yourself. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you give him a glare and he frowns briefly. 

“Like that’s real,” he scoffs and turns to watch his pseudo-girlfriend flirting with someone by the pool whose hair gel shines under the string lights. 

“Oh.” You didn’t realize. “Sorry.” 

For a moment, there’s a vulnerability between the two of you that draws you in, wondering what’s behind the curtain with Dieter. His hand, still resting on your knee, squeezes you slightly, and you snap out of his spell. “Well, my boyfriend most certainly is real,” you say. “Unless he doesn’t show up tonight,” you mutter, “then maybe he won’t be much longer.” 

Dieter hesitates as if he might have something to add, but you grimace. You don’t want to answer any follow-up questions. He’s too close for you to think clearly. You stand, brushing off his hand, and give him a smile. “I’m going to do a lap. Maybe find my friend or my boyfriend before the sun comes up,” you sigh and give him a final look before you walk back towards the house. 

Eventually, Dieter follows. 

You go through the motions, introducing yourself to people, laughing along with whoever you find yourself standing next to, and always staying aware of Dieter’s presence. You avoid his path as the two of you mingle and socialize with different clusters of people. But you keep finding yourself catching his eye in every room you enter. 

You weave through the house, pilfering some snacks and avoiding anyone’s attempts to talk one on one. You catch a glimpse of your friend, still entangled with her work crush, and continue on your path. 

The later it gets, the less tolerance you have for the other partygoers. You find yourself back on the chair on the beach. Alternating between staring at your phone, debating composing a text to Frankie, and watching the waves break along the shore. 

It’s not long before your suitor returns, joining you on the lounge chair again. Just as close, if not closer, than earlier in the evening. 

“No luck?” he asks. 

“Avoiding you?” you quip, and he shakes his head. 

“Finding your friends.” 

“Friend or boyfriend,” you emphasize for both of your sake, but he only smiles in return. “What about you? No luck with… whatever your goal was?” you ask. 

He sighs deeply at that. “There’s no goal. I’m just the host.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “I didn’t know this was your…thing,” you wave your hand towards the party. 

“Would you have treated me differently if you knew?” 

“Worse, maybe?” you laugh genuinely. “I’ve got a few complaints to lodge. Too many people, too loud, nobody is any fun,” you list them off on your fingers, “honestly–” 

“Why are you here?” he cuts you off. 

“I don’t know,” you pause to think about the real answer. “Thought it would be better than being miserable at home, a friend convinced me, thought it would be fun to stay at a fancy beach house with my boyfriend. Some combination of those?” 

You pick at something invisible on your dress. Avoiding the heat of Dieter’s gaze. “Now, I’m just stuck outside with a headache. Why are you here?” you counter. 

“I just told you. Did you take something from the guy in the studded jacket?” 

“No. I mean, why are you outside with me? Aren’t there drugs you could be doing? Or there was that guy begging you to do body shots in the kitchen?” 

“Kind of bored of it all,” he muses, scratching thoughtfully at his bearded jaw. 

“Maybe you need a more intellectually stimulating scene,” you suggest. It was more a grumpy dig at the belligerent attendees, but he seems to be genuinely considering your suggestion. You let yourself ogle his handsome features as he thinks. Then his eyes light up and he snaps his head towards you.  

“Do you want to go to the pool house?” he asks. 

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare and he raises his hands in surrender. “No, I mean there’s a bed. You said you have a headache. If you want to lie down.” 

“That’s not where the orgy is happening?” 

“No,” he snorts, “I think there’s a sex party across the street, though, if you’re interested,” he smirks at you. You roll your eyes at him exaggeratedly and give him a playful shove. “You wish, Bravo.” 

You take him up on the offer to lie down, though. There’s a code to unlock the pool house, giving you a private little escape. 

You decide to send the code to Frankie, letting him know you’ll be here all night. Hoping he still decides to show up. You enlist Dieter’s help. He repeats after you, “Broad, brooding, brown hair, brown eyes?” 

“Exactly,” you confirm. “If you see him, tell him where he can find me?” 

“Of course,” he agrees with a chuckle. 

You spring to your feet, eagerly seeking out your solitude. Halfway across the yard you look back over your shoulder to mouth thank you at your generous host. He gives you a nod and a wink that is criminally hot. 

You let yourself in and explore the space. It’s bigger than your apartment. You pass the living space and mini kitchen, down the hall to find the bedroom. It’s like a luxury hotel suite. You slip out of your shoes and crawl directly into the bed. 

Dieter is still dumbstruck by you. Your our smile, your prickly yet playful aura, your sexy confidence. He lingers outside, caught up in his daydream of you, before he resigns himself to circling back through the house. He shares a few stories, laughs at some jokes, and does his best to enjoy the rest of the night. But his eyes constantly wander back to the the pool house. 

He’s drawn to it like a moth. Except–it’s dark. The lights are off. 

You’re wrapped up in a down duvet and crisp, clean linens. The noise from outside is significantly dulled, most people filtered back into the main house or down to the beach. 

You drift into a hazy slumber, fading in and out. Unsure of the time, too stubborn to check your phone afraid of being disappointed the sun rises before you hear from your boyfriend. It’s still dark out whenever you peek at the windows though, so you keep drifting back off, hoping to wake up to your man. You’re rolling over to stretch, once again, when you hear a soft knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you reply, not fully awake. 

The door swings open, and he can see you in the glow of the light from the hall. 

You’re luminous even in the near dark, and he pauses before the critical thinking skills come to life and he can see the scowl on your face. “Sorry,” he starts. 

Dieter had been wavering since you walked away from him. Wondering if he was reading the right signals. If you looked back hoping he was following. If he was the brown eyed prince you were really waiting for. Now he worries that he waited too long in his indecision. 

You squint, eyes aching from the bright light in the hallway, only able to make out the silhouette of the broad shoulders in the doorway. 

“Sorry, I thought you might still be up,” he trails off, in that familiar gravelly voice. 

“Fucking finally,” you groan. “I thought you were going to just leave me here.” 

Finally? He was right. 

“Just get in here, please.” You toss the corner of the duvet back, inviting him in. 

He’s still smiling in the doorway, thinking of something perfect to say when you lose patience. 

“Look, you can either get in here and show me how sorry you are for making me wait for you all night, or you can fuck off–but don’t just stand in the doorway blinding me. Please.” You huff, covering your eyes and rolling onto your side to bury your face in the covers. 

You hear the door shut before you feel the familiar weight of his body slipping into the bed behind you, and it’s comforting to finally have Frankie here. You thought you’d be left tossing and turning until the sun came up. Wondering if he was upset or just late. 

He rests his hand on you, feather light but deliberate. You melt into his touch, stubborn words forgotten at the familiarity of his body heat. He moves slowly, tentatively caressing your shoulders as his nose grazes the back of your neck. 

“Finally,” you murmur sleepily, arching you back to press closer into him, moving on instinct. 

“Yeah?” his voice is low, husky and rich. Your favorite thing about him. 

“Mmhm,” you mumble, pushing back against him. “So late…” Your body responds to his presence, a heat stirring that’s impossible to ignore. 

Dieter’s ego flares. He knew there was something simmering behind your jabs. 

“You sure about this?” he whispers against your warm skin, hand sliding up your side. 

You assume he’s worried you’re still mad at him. Or maybe he thinks you’re too tired. You reassure him with whispered affirmations and a soft moan as your back arches instinctually, pressing closer to him, drawn to his warmth. 

It’s the breathy please that spears hot down his spine. Hearing you beg for him, it’s more permission than he needs. He kisses your neck, unhurried, letting his lips linger on your skin as his hands move along the dips and curves of your body. There’s a tenderness in his touch that surprises even him. 

He doesn’t rush, savoring the sounds you make, the way your body responds, and hoe pliant you are for him. Encouraged, he moves lower, rolling you onto your back, and settling between your legs. The sensations are overwhelming. Blurring the lines between dream and reality as he goes down on you with expert precision. 

He always knows how to make it up to you without needing words. You run a hand through his hair and when he groans against your soft, wet cunt it draws you to the edge. He’s greedy as you shudder and wriggle beneath him, eagerly sucking at your clit until it’s all too much. Lost in the moment, you’re floaty, murmuring praise between moans as you come undone beneath his skilled mouth. 

When you tell him to fuck you, he doesn’t hesitate. He rolls you onto your stomach, sliding his cock through your sopping folds, coating himself in the mix of your arousal and his saliva. 

“Oh, fuck,” his raw desire for you makes your tongue go numb. Unable to respond, until he starts to ease into you and the stretch, the angle, the intimacy of his body covering yours–it makes you both groan loudly. He fits against you so perfectly. You’re too drunk with the pleasure to question any unusual differences. 

Too lost in the heat of it all. He presses kisses into your spine while thrusting slowly, languidly, and deeply inside of you. When he lowers his chest against your back you can feel his heart beating loudly, like it’s calling to yours. With the heightened sensations and his velvety rich voice in your ear, he urges you closer and closer to a hypnotically intense, rolling orgasm. 

When your thighs tremble beneath him and you beg him to come for you, his body responds like he’s under your spell. Throbbing and pulsing inside of you until his weight collapses on you. He rolls you to you side with him, staying connected, limbs tangled like vines and he’s mesmerized by you. Listening to your breathing as you fall asleep in his arms, sated and secure. 

When you wake up in the morning, groggy and confused, the first thing you notice is the wrong smell. It’s not your boyfriend’s–it’s Dieter’s. Cold panic floods your body as you realize you’re in the wrong man’s arms. You try to pull away but Dieter’s still asleep, trapping you under his heavy arm. 

A dense, searing mix of guilt and arousal swirls within you like lava as you register his hard cock pressed against you and your recollection of the night starts to clarify. It makes you hesitate. 

Dieter, feeling your movement, tightens his grip around you and shifts. He’s hard and leaking against you and your traitorish pussy is slick between your legs, throbbing like a siren song for him to fill you up again. 

His body unconsciously grinds against you. Your heart races, mind scrambling to make sense of everything. Every kiss, every touch, the way he’d been so gentle and tender. It wasn’t your boyfriend at all. But he made you feel so desired, cherished. Things you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The shock is dizzying, but there’s a quiet moment of mutual awareness as his breathing changes. You know he’s awake. Waiting on you before he dares to move again. 

Without thinking you press back against him, heart fluttering in your chest. It’s instantaneous. He flips you around and you’re finally facing him in the soft light. Barely able to take in his besotted expression before your lips are drawn together in an impassioned kiss. 

Your mutual arousal reignites like a blazing fire in the quiet early morning. It’s wrong. But in that moment, the connection between you feels inevitable. It’s as if it had always been building, a force of nature you couldn’t stop. 

The shock and guilt fall to the side. Regret doesn’t get enough light to grow. The anger at your boyfriend’s absence whispers convincingly in your ear. 

None of it matters when you lower yourself onto his cock, eyes fluttering shut, as his hands knead your thighs. None of it matters when you watch the lust cloud his eyes and his plush lips part as you start to move. None of it matters until you’re startled by the jarring sound of your phone buzzing on the night stand. 

You’re frozen in place as the buzzing continues. Dieter grabs the phone, reading the name on the screen. His other hand trails over your hip moving with purpose until his thumb draws a slow, firm circle around your clit. 

“You better answer,” he says, handing the phone to you, “think it’s your boyfriend.”

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

[adelheidvonschicksal]

ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

-----

The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition. 

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind. 

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

[websterss]

COMING BACK (1) — ETHAN LANDRY

REQUEST: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

WARNING(S): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy, 

WORD COUNT: 1,655

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

PART 2: HAPPY ENDING / SAD ENDING

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

[triangle-tumor-manifesto]

My nickname is Silver Cipher.

I am 19 years old, and I’ve been diagnosed with Stage 4 Signet Ring Cell Adenocarcinoma of the Appendix. My dream is to have Alex Hirsch sign my cancer journal.

Gravity Falls has been a huge help since the release of The Book of Bill, and has been a huge comfort to me during my cancer fight. It has helped me emotionally more than I can express. The idea came from one of my friends, who drove to meet me before even knowing my name. They suggested I try to get a signature from Alex Hirsch. This is just a brief summary of my story that I would love to share with you all.

I meant for this to be an incredibly put-together message, but “Nothing in life makes sense, so you might as well make nonsense!”

Ford’s fight with Bill hits so goddamn hard. Chemo has just carpet-bombed my memory to the point where I completely black-out at times. During my 72-hour straight IV drip, I wake up to finding stuff I’ve done that I would NEVER do. I wrote things that I would never write. I drew things that I would never ever draw. The most notable drawings I have done are focused around the Eye of Providence and are surrounded—from top to bottom—by code I am still deciphering. This is terrifying to me and makes me feel like a spectator in my own body. Every single time it happens, it always takes me off guard no matter how prepared I think I am…

Chemo Me VS Regular Me Art (think you can figure out which is which??? -△)

However, the reason why I’m not quite as paralyzed with fear as I was is that whenever shit hits the fan, as embarrassing as it is to admit, to comfort myself I think about Stanford Pines. I think about how at the end of a long and hard battle with something indescribably wicked, he learned to trust people and got the support he needed. The path he treaded was full of pain, blood, and tears but he made it. The survival rate for my stage of cancer is catastrophically low on paper, but 6 is my lucky number. You can guess the reason, or I seriously question how you got into Gravity Falls in the first place!

I live and breathe this show, I live and breathe what Stanford Pines has gone through. I just need to make it past Weirdmageddon.

We appendix cancer patients have this crazy surgery which is known in the medical community as the “Mother of All Surgeries.” Most surgeons refuse to attempt it because of a lack of proven studies due to how few of us there are and how little research there is. The small sample size often causes it to be considered a crazy borderline pseudoscience! But it works. I know this because every Appendix Cancer survivor I met at our Pseudomyxoma peritonei (it’s shortened to PMP) Pals group introduces themself and then says that they owe their new lengthened life to as I like to put it, “Our Surgeon Soulmate”. This is my Weirdmaggedon.

HIPEC (the aforementioned surgery, Hyperthermic intraperitoneal chemotherapy) involves cutting open the sternum to the groin, scooping out every single organ that isn’t necessary for survival, filling the space with liquid chemo, and then sloshing you around a little on the table so it all sets in (like a little cancer smoothie). Then they’ll drain it all out, sew you up, and wake you up. (I drew Ford doing it while on chemo—you can see it in the Imgur link-I also have zero memories of this, and it's hilarious-you gotta laugh at the pain or you will cry) The only way to relieve the crippling pain besides exceeding a survivable dose of painkiller is to get up. You have to get up and walk—I mean laps around the ICU. I’ve done it. The laps at least. All the hundred-some people at the conference have. It hurts like crazy but the only way to get better is to fight through it. It's either fight or die.

Welp! There’s your summary of puppet hour with Silver, and my own personal metal plate.

I have the proof to back this up, as I have been living with this since my diagnosis in March. Knowing all of you, some of you may have taken “Trust No One!” to heart, which is legitimate for a post like this. This was just a brief summary of my story that I would love to share with you all. I've censored my personal information, and pictures I'm sending, as well as my face and my father's face. I'm also adding some of the art that I've done on chemo.

PROOF: https://imgur.com/a/ljb98NL

Attached is all the preliminary proof I’m willing to let anybody and everybody see. It’s a mix of identity-confirming photos, people I care about, art that I made while on chemo to help get me through it, proof of my hospital stays and pictures of me during hospital chemo, as well as a picture of myself on chemo simply so you can see how much it takes out of me from those early on photos of me from my tumor removal surgery to today. That was round six. Now I’m in the middle of round twelve: my last one. Before my final battle with Cipher, I’m hoping I can get my personal chemo Journal signed by Hirsch, at the very least. And if the guy wants to join the stream and hear my pretty decent Ford impression, well…who am I to complain? Alex if you're reading this, even if you can’t sign my book, I’d love for you to read the journal entry I wrote addressed to you. I sent my friend Alia to NYCC with a cut-out journal page for you to sign, with this letter to be read, but it didn’t end up working out. Even so, it would mean so much to me if it made it to you somehow.

Hopefully, this gets a shitload of views and reposts that find their way to Alex. As a bonus (some of you are going to adore this) I am going to link a Twitch fundraiser for Appendix Cancer in the post as well, and do a live stream of an ENTIRE reading of a Mystery Fanfic with me as Ford and an absolutely amazing Bill impersonator- @weasel!!! @_<;;! I bet you are so curious, knowing this server. “Come on Fordsy, don’t you want to take my hand? Just say the word!”

Art done by @🐔mother hen goblin🐔

We had this art piece made to promote the stream! Heed the warnings! Also, depending on the VA's endurance, I will also host an open mic for people to share their love of Gravity Falls and their reasoning for helping me.

The Twitch stream will begin on △ 10/26/2024 6:00PM EST.

△ If you cannot make this-never fear! It will all be recorded for your future viewing pleasure. This exact time is subject to change, please check back the day of to make sure that this stays the same.

Twitch Stream Link: triangle_tumor - Twitch

Donation Link: https://pmppals.net/silvers-triangle-tumor/…

I hope to see as many of you as possible present in the stream. This fanfiction means so much to so many of us. Both Bill and Ford's relationship in canon and especially in this fic encapsulates the visceral horror, suffering, and trauma that comes with going through chemo and beating the ⭐⚡#💀＄out of the triangle tumor. I am also getting OFFICIALLY endorsed by r/Gravity Falls as well as PMP Pals (An Official Appendix Cancer Organization) for this fundraiser.

I cannot tell you how absolutely hyped I am for everything going down.

Pleasepleaseplease join the stream if you can, and for SURE blow up this Reddit post! Thank you all so much for being a part of this and helping me through my fight.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Silver Cipher △

P.S. FUCK Cancer

SOCIALS/OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Triangletumor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/triangletumormanifesto/?next=%2F

Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/triangle_tumor

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@TriangleTumorManifesto

[rose24207]

Lando dating his teammates ex gf after teammate hurt her

Fine line

Summary: After a painful breakup with Oscar, you find unexpected love and healing with his teammate Lando, navigating the complexities of loyalty, heartbreak, and new beginnings.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: breakup, Oscar is an ass (I’m sorry 🥲)

A/N: damnn y’all flooded me with your requests! Thank you, don’t stop 🤭🫵 English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though. Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The air in the paddock felt heavy, thick with tension and the lingering buzz of the race. You walked briskly past the motorhomes, clutching your media pass tightly. The season had been long, stressful, and emotionally draining, but today wasn’t about work. You were trying to avoid someone—Oscar Piastri, your ex-boyfriend.

You weren’t sure how you managed to keep showing up to the same places he did, pretending everything was fine. It had been months since you broke up, but the hurt was still fresh.

Oscar had shattered you, not with one big betrayal but with the thousand tiny cuts of neglect, sharp words, and his inability to put your relationship above the demands of his career.

You understood how much Formula 1 meant to him—it was his dream—but you’d become collateral damage in his pursuit of greatness.

Your steps slowed as you approached McLaren's hospitality area. The orange and blue banners fluttered gently in the breeze, and the hum of voices carried through the open doorway.

Inside, you caught sight of him—Lando Norris. His head was thrown back in laughter, his unruly brown curls shining under the overhead lights. He had a magnetism about him, an easy charm that made him approachable despite his superstar status.

It didn’t help that Lando had been the one person who’d made the aftermath of your breakup bearable.

After your breakup with Oscar, you hadn’t expected anyone from the paddock to take your side. Oscar was the rising star, the young prodigy everyone loved. You, by comparison, were just someone who happened to be around.

But Lando had surprised you.

He’d found you crying in a quiet corner of the paddock one evening, mascara smudged and your chest tight with sobs. You’d tried to wave him off, embarrassed by your vulnerability, but Lando wasn’t the type to ignore someone in pain.

“Hey,” he’d said gently, crouching down to your level. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, unsure if you could trust him. But the sincerity in his eyes made you spill everything—how Oscar had grown distant, how he’d prioritized everything over you, and how his final, cutting words during your last fight had left you broken.

Lando had listened intently, his brows furrowed in concern. “That’s not okay,” he’d said when you finished. “You didn’t deserve that.”

From that moment on, Lando had been in your corner. Whether it was offering a distraction with his relentless humor or simply checking in on you after particularly rough days, he’d become a source of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

Weeks turned into months, and your friendship with Lando deepened. What started as casual check-ins evolved into late-night phone calls, shared dinners, and quiet moments where words weren’t necessary.

He never pushed, never overstepped the boundaries of friendship, but there was something unspoken between you—an undercurrent of tension neither of you acknowledged.

You tried to ignore it.

Lando was Oscar’s teammate, his friend.

Even if things were strained between you and Oscar, it felt wrong to think about Lando in a way that wasn’t platonic. But the heart doesn’t always listen to reason.

One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, Lando invited you to his apartment in Monaco. “Just to unwind,” he’d said. “No pressure.”

You’d agreed, needing the escape.

The evening started innocently enough—pizza, a couple of beers, and a terrible movie playing in the background. But as the night wore on, the space between you on the couch grew smaller.

Lando’s arm rested on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. Every touch sent a shiver down your spine, and when you turned to look at him, his gaze was soft but intense.

“I—” you started, but Lando shook his head.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “I just... I care about you. A lot. And I hate seeing you hurt.”

His words unlocked something inside you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if both of you were testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, the weight of unspoken feelings pouring out in that single moment.

When you pulled away, breathless, Lando rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to make things complicated for you,” he said. “But I can’t pretend I don’t feel this.”

The days after that night were a whirlwind of emotions. You and Lando agreed to keep things quiet—for now. It wasn’t just about the media; there was the inevitable fallout with Oscar to consider. You weren’t sure how he’d react, but you knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

It didn’t take long for Oscar to notice the shift between you and Lando. The way Lando’s eyes lingered on you a little too long, the way you laughed more freely when he was around. Oscar confronted you one afternoon in the paddock, his expression a mix of anger and hurt.

“Are you serious?” he demanded. “You and Lando?”

You squared your shoulders, refusing to let him intimidate you. “It’s none of your business, Oscar. We’re not together anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you go running to my teammate,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how this makes me look?”

You frowned. “This isn’t about you. For once, it’s not about you.”

Oscar scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re unbelievable.”

Lando appeared then, stepping between the two of you. “That’s enough,” he said firmly. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Oscar glared at him. “So this is what loyalty looks like, huh?”

“It’s not about loyalty,” Lando said. “It’s about doing what’s right. And you didn’t treat her right.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might take a swing at Lando. But instead, he turned and walked away, leaving you and Lando standing there in the aftermath.

Despite the drama, being with Lando felt right.

He treated you with a kindness and respect that you hadn’t realized you were missing. The media eventually caught wind of your relationship, but you and Lando weathered the storm together, united in a way that felt unshakable.

Oscar’s anger faded with time, though your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t regret your choice, though. Lando had shown you what love could be—patient, supportive, and genuine. And for the first time in a long time, you felt whole again.

As the season came to an end, you stood beside Lando on the podium, his arm wrapped around your waist as the crowd cheered. The journey hadn’t been easy, but it had been worth it.

Because sometimes, love is about taking risks—and finding someone who chooses you, every single time.

Thank you for reading!

[thefiery-phoenix]

yandere dg hcs if u havent yet?? ty❤️

YANDERE JAMES LEE (DG) HEADCANONS

He's an unpredictable ticking time bomb to say the least. It doesn't matter if he's James Lee or DG, they're STILL the same person. As soon as his eyes land on you, that's when your entire life belongs to him now. He's borderline possessive, obsessive, manipulative and not above gaslighting you emotionally to make you stay with him. There are 2 instances when you could have met him, as James Lee or as DG but it doesn't make the situation any better since they're both the same obsessive psychotic person when it comes to you

If you met him as James Lee, it would probably be when you'd be in school with him or something. You were the sort of person who'd never get involved in fights and always kept yourself under the radar. Your only concern was to just pass the freaking math test this week with a decent score. While you were returning home from school, you spotted James hitting a few people like they were nothing and you glared at him disapprovingly. He spotted you glaring at him and he was amused by your pouty glare. "Aww...don't worry princess, you don't need to worry about bad men anymore" he said in a slightly patronizing condescending tone with a smirk on his face. You just grumbled under your breath and walked away as his eyes never left your figure till you vanished from his sight. He couldn't help but softly chuckle to himself, you were quite intriguing

He'd spend time getting to know more about you which will also involve smacking people around to give him the information he needs regarding you. He won't even be discreet about following you or stalking you at this point, he just has this arrogant cocky grin on his face and thinks he's protecting you and comes up with a number of reasons on why you need him to be around you. He despises it when you pay attention to other people though, they're just mere pests in his eyes. Why would you waste your time with them? Why would you waste your time with those silly little annoying pests you call your friends? You're clearly a naive one if you think they don't have ulterior motives towards you, he's certain they have ulterior motives towards you

Or you could either meet him when he's DG. You could be an assistant of his or a dancer, catching his attention as DG would he slightly more difficult compared to him as James Lee because he's so used to people throwing themselves at him and he just doesn't even bother to react to them anymore. Miraculously if you do end up catching his attention at some point, within the next 10 minutes he'll have every single nitty gritty detail about you one way or another and reads about you like you're some kind of fascinating specimen in his free time

As time progresses by, he'll start growing more possessive and obsessive towards you. It'll get even worse if you're going out with him and in a relationship with him. He'll want to know about every single thing going on in your life and who you're with and what sort of pest he'll have to get rid of to ensure you're his. I wouldn't put it past him to not resorting to installing cameras in your house either because he really would do something like that. What? It's just to ensure your safety, that's all. You'll always have someone stalking you from behind the shadows and you'll never have your moment of privacy again. Say goodbye to your much cherished privacy since it'll go out the window and down the drain and he's the reason for it

He likes you for being yourself. He's met plenty of superficial people and people who's personality changes even faster than the colors of a chameleon but your presence is like a breath of fresh air compared to the usual people he interacts with. You could be plain and simple and he'd still love you. In his own twisted manic way. He's drawn to your humble down to earth nature. He loves it when he gifts you something and you start blushing and turn flustered, he's now made it his personal mission in life to see you get flustered more often since he finds you rather adorable and endearing when you do that. Your cheeks puff out slightly whenever you're feeling embarrassed about something so he'll teasingly caress your cheek with his hand to watch you squirm even more. Your reactions are too cute and entertaining for him. Sadistic MF

He loves to spoil you. Whatever you want, just say the word and you'll have it in the blink of an eye with a shiny packaging wrap around it just for you. However a while later his behavior will start getting much worse. He'll slowly start distancing you from your friends since he wants your attention to be only on him. There's a reason he's called one of the 10 geniuses you know. He'll do it in a calculating manner you won't know and realize he's isolating you from people before it's too late. He won't even deny it when you confront him about it, the way he sees it is he's just doing this for your own good. He's fought against gang members and yakuza leaders and whatnot, there's a reason he's one of the feared skilled fighters around. He doesn't want you going through the same thing as him so just be a good little spouse for him and accept his love for you. Will take you out on bike rides on his bike as well. He loves it when you hold him and rest your head on his shoulder. Night bike rides with him are quite romantic, he'll take you out to a place where the stars are visible and he'll hold you in his arms and you both will enjoy the peace and serenity of the night atmosphere, looking at the stars

Oh,you'll report him to the authorities? Darling, you're just making him laugh with your naivety at this point. He has the power and authority to buy the entire police department or whoever he wants. He's an IDOL admired by the people. When the faith in him is strong, no one can bring him down. It's not like someone would even believe you anyway and even if you do find the one sane enough person to believe you, DG will get rid of them quickly. Don't bother trying to escape from him either, he has all the resources and power to locate you and trace your location in mere seconds. You'll be dragged back to 'your home' and he'll just scold you like you're a child. And all escape routes for you will be destroyed, you'll lose your internet privilege for a month and the security system will be more improved and he'll change the locks too. Look, he might be a ruthless fighter but that doesn't mean he's a monster at heart. He genuinely does love you and care for you, he doesn't want to hurt you. He'd never get physical or raise his voice at you even when he's mad

Will control everything you do. Whatever do you need a job for? It's strenuous to work these days, he doesn't want you getting tired and gaining the attention of some random undeserving scumbag who doesn't have the right to look at you. He's more than enough to provide for the two of you. Let him just spoil you and take care of you

Don't even get me started on what he does to people who hurt you. Now it depends on the sort of person who's hurt you. If it's just some random jealous fangirl or fanboy, he'll use his popularity to his advantage and that person's account will get suspended and they'll have an fanbase hurling curses towards them. Fanbases can be quite scary at times. If it's some gang member or some jerk of a gang leader he will not go easy on them. He'll ensure they live, sure but live a painful torturous life. He'll either make them blind in one eye or both, or cut one of their fingers off or something for daring to hurt you. He'll finish the job quickly and he'll do it by himself. If it's Charles Choi trying to hunt you down for some reason....well, it's been long enough since that old man's been in a position of power and he'll bring him down. It's best if you don't ask where the blood is from

He likes holding you in his arms and having you on his lap. It doesn't matter what you say, you're sitting on his lap one way or another. He'll give you soft kisses on your lips every now and then and loves it when you do basic chores around the house even though you don't need to since there are people to take care of that for him. He likes seeing you in that cute little apron of yours, cooking something or doing laundry or whatever. He'll envelope you in a hug from the back and press soft kisses to your neck as his arms will be wrapped around your waist tightly so you won't be able to escape from his grasp

Overall, he's a good guy with a psychotic hidden personality inside. Just don't leave him and things will be all right

[sheenashifts1217]

PICK A PILE

What to prepare for in your DR…

Take a breath, look at the pictures, simply pick with one you feel most drawn to 💗

Note: these are all for collective so take what resonates, leave behind what does not. For a personal reading, check out my pinned post. All readings are currently $2 off their listed price from now until Nov. 1st.

Pile 1 (cat-o-lantern), Pile 2 (sun and moon), Pile 3 (cookies)

Pile 1

Hello beauties 🫶. Your DR seems to be full of adventures. You may have a superhero or vigilante DR. You spent much of your past fighting and rising to the top. Now it’s time to hit the breaks and relax for a bit. Who are you other than a fighter? It’s time to prepare for love and meaningful relationships. Prepare to open up. It seems that things are starting to slow down in your DR and you may be fighting it, let it happen. Being vulnerable is good, it lets us grow. You don’t have to fight all the time, be prepared to let others in and be loved. You no longer have to struggle. Revel in your abundance.

Possible confirmation signs: dogs, cats, littlest pet shop, purple, mom, fairies, Dress to impress

Pile 2

Hello Angels 😘. You all, similar to pile 1, need to prepare for love. For you all, it’s all about balance. In your current reality, you are in need of reassurance and someone to take care of you. In your DR you have someone taking care of you, but you also take care of them. Don’t allow yourself to become too arrogant with your new power dynamic. Be prepared to be loved in a humbling way. You no longer have to people please. Put yourself out there and be vulnerable with the people you love because they love you too. You can have it all. You may feel like you’re being pulled in a thousand different directions as this energy feels a bit chaotic, but cling to your person. They will be the one to always ground you and clear your sight.

(Channeled this song at 1:11 btw)

Possible signs of confirmation: 111, red, lace, lingerie, four, wood, one direction, “sir”

Pile 3

Hi loves! Your DR has a very excited energy about it. There are a lot of new beginnings coming your way. Some of you have an X-men or Agents of Shield DR. I’m also picking up on a grumpy x sunshine dynamic. As you embark on your journey stay mentally, physically, and emotionally prepared. Your duties can be draining which is why the sunshine energy is so important. You lift others up. When you feel drained, allow yourself to rely on your teammates. That’s why they’re there. You’re a part of a TEAM. You are in this together. Prepare for some type of potential tragedy. I’m also hearing Guardians of the Galaxy, so that could be significant. Many of you cope with humor. While humor is good, make sure to thoroughly grieve and support your emotions. Take time when you need it. Your DR is still a good time despite the tragedies and tad bit of heavy energy. Mainly prepare to care for yourself so that you can enjoy and feel everything.

Possible signs of confirmation: 444, 1234, 5, peach, clouds, “your mom”, “boom”, “fuck”, Eric cartman, South Park, gold, Percy Jackson, sad and bored

[thatlotuscookie]

i couldnt be anymore glad i found your page. in love with all your mha works. i request dabi x reader, where femreader has been going through stuff at home? maybe toxic parents and he does things to cheer her up and comfort her?

✧･ﾟ: a/n : aww you're so sweet, im glad you like them! i love these scenarios my anons keep asking me. LIKE?? you guys are so creative, everything goes to yall because you got the ideas. i LOVE YOU ALL! enjoy, this isnt anything long, short and simple. thank you for the req<3

✧ Title: ✧ A Safe Haven ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’ve been carrying the weight of your toxic home life for far too long, never telling anyone about the struggles you face. Not even Dabi, despite how close you’ve grown. After a particularly rough day, you head to the hideout, emotionally drained. Dabi notices something is off and decides to take care of you. In his own way, he shows you that you don’t have to handle everything alone. ✧ Content Warnings: Toxic household, Emotional exhaustion, Mentions of mental health struggles, Heavy themes, Comfort, Slight language. ✧ WC: 1116 words // 6.1k chars

You had never told anyone about the struggles you faced at home. It was something you buried deep, never letting it see the light of day. Not even Dabi, despite how close you had gotten over the past few months. Maybe it was pride or fear, but something kept you silent, even as the weight of your toxic household pressed down harder each day.

Today, however, everything seemed too heavy to bear.

You dragged yourself to the hideout after a particularly rough day. The yelling, the accusations—it had all piled up and left you feeling drained, worn down, and numb. Walking into the dimly lit space, you didn’t expect Dabi to be there. But there he was, lounging lazily on the couch, cigarette between his fingers, blue flames flickering faintly from his palm. His eyes flicked to you as soon as you walked in, immediately noticing the slump in your posture and the dullness in your usually bright eyes.

"You look like shit," he said bluntly, though there was an undertone of concern in his voice.

You rolled your eyes halfheartedly, too tired to play along with his usual banter. You were too mentally exhausted to do anything but collapse into the nearest chair, not even bothering to take off your coat. He studied you quietly, frowning.

"You’re quieter than usual," he muttered, snuffing out his cigarette and sitting up straight. "What’s going on?"

You shook your head, biting your lip, trying to hold it together. You weren’t ready to spill everything to him, not now. But you didn’t have the strength to hide it either.

"I don’t want to talk about it," you whispered, staring down at your hands, which were clenched into tight fists on your lap. "It’s just… home stuff. Nothing new."

Dabi’s expression darkened at the mention of your home life. He’d picked up on bits and pieces over time, though you never directly told him the full extent of it. Still, he wasn’t stupid. He could sense when something was weighing on you, and he wasn’t the type to ignore it.

Instead of pushing you, Dabi stood up, stretching lazily before sauntering over to where you sat. He crouched down in front of you, resting his arms on your knees as he tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. You didn’t look up, still avoiding his gaze, but you felt the warmth of his presence close to you.

"Hey," he said softly, an unusual gentleness in his voice. "Look at me."

You hesitated before finally meeting his eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no sharp quips—just a rare, quiet concern in his mismatched blue and purple gaze.

"You know you don’t have to handle this on your own, right?" His voice was low, serious. "You can talk to me."

You sighed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "It’s just… they’re always fighting. Always blaming me for everything. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I just… I don’t know how much more I can take."

Dabi’s jaw clenched. He hated seeing you like this—broken down by people who were supposed to protect you. The anger simmered just below the surface, but he kept it in check. This wasn’t the time for his usual biting remarks. You needed him to be something else right now.

Without a word, he gently took your hands in his, prying them open from their tight fists. His touch was surprisingly soft, his thumb brushing over the indentations left from your nails digging into your skin. You flinched slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

"Come on," he said quietly, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "I’m gonna take care of you tonight."

You blinked, confused but too tired to resist as he led you to the small kitchen in the hideout. You sat on a stool at the counter while he rummaged around, gathering a few things. It was strange seeing him in such a domestic setting, but you didn’t question it. Not when the smell of something savory started to fill the air, and for a moment, you forgot the chaos you’d left behind.

Dabi worked quietly, occasionally glancing over at you as he cooked. When he finally set the food in front of you—some kind of simple but hearty meal—you realized just how hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten properly in days.

"Eat," he ordered, but his tone was gentle, more of a suggestion than a command.

You picked up the fork and took a small bite, warmth spreading through you as you ate. It wasn’t just the food—it was the fact that Dabi had taken the time to make it for you. He didn’t need to say anything for you to feel how much he cared.

Once you finished, Dabi handed you a glass of water and a couple of pills. "Painkillers," he explained. "Figured you’d have a headache with the way you’ve been acting."

You took them gratefully, feeling a little lighter. Dabi wasn’t the type to baby you, but his actions spoke louder than words. He cared in his own way, even if he wasn’t great at showing it.

When you were done, he pulled you up again, guiding you to the worn-out couch. He sat down first, then tugged you down next to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You hesitated for a moment, but then relaxed into him, resting your head against his chest. His body was warm, comforting, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing started to calm your racing thoughts.

"You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to," Dabi muttered, his hand running through your hair absentmindedly. "You can stay here. I don’t care if you think you’re a burden. You’re not."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. You felt safe for the first time in what felt like forever. His words, his actions—they soothed the ache that had been gnawing at you for so long.

"Thank you, Dabi," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

He didn’t respond right away, just tightened his grip around you, holding you a little closer. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

"Don’t mention it."

For the rest of the night, Dabi stayed by your side, letting you find comfort in his quiet presence. And though the chaos of your home life still lingered in the background, for the first time in a while, you felt like everything might just be okay. And maybe- just maybe, you'd want Dabi by your side throughout it all.