#like I said I just needed to get this out of my head

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a no-known sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm such a great guy, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[paracosmicka]

Primal Fears AU content but don’t worry it’s still sonadow

That last one is a repost from last year so if you saw the silly drawings but then read the thing in the bottom left corner and went “wait what the fuck”

It’s because it was an AU thing but I literally only had that drawn out and now you get some context at least:

In this universe Sonic is an assassin/bounty hunter/whatever you wanna call a guy that is hired to specifically to kill other Entities. He meets Shadow when they run into each other because they’re both following the same Avatar. Then they do the normal canon sonadow thing where the first interaction they have always ends with them fighting and beating the shit out of each other. And then they kinda calm down but then Shadow has a similar moment from the beginning of the IDW Sonic comics where he gets absolutely pissed that Sonic managed to distract him from catching the bad guy and zooms away before the two have another chance to speak again.

Here Shadow is a GUN field agent except in this universe GUN isn’t really military and it’s more focused on not only investigating (like the Magnus Institute) but also actively dealing with the Entities. Which sounds great except remember how I said they aren’t military well actually they kinda are because “dealing” with Entities and Avatars just means: throw it in the high-security prison that is guarded by other various Avarars that all work for GUN because it means they don’t have to get thrown in prison. So GUN is kinda like The Magnus Institute + Section 31 working together. So actually I guess it’s like the SCP Foundation.

One day Shadow goes into work and Sonic and there and I’m not really sure on what I’m gonna do in the plot to make him end up there (like maybe he’s undercover and just using GUN to get to his next target or maybe GUN does the “hey we’re gonna throw you in jail if you don’t agree to work for us” idk again not sure yet) but now he’s working with Shadow because they still need to catch that Avatar.

So now we’re sorta caught up, they’re at Club Rouge (and I realized I didn’t specify which Entity she serves in my drawing of her but people who guessed the Stranger ding ding ding here have some sonadow) because Sonic and Shadow need to kinda interrogate Surge and Amy, who are associated with the Slaughter. They have a band called Poison Rose and it’s basically just Grifter’s Bone but they perform rock music instead. And are also probably dating.

Anyway the Big Case™️ Sonic and Shadow are working on is investigating a bunch of spooky murders and they’re pretty sure whoever’s behind them is a Slaughter avatar. But not specifically Amy and Surge☝️ They’re kinda “allowed” to perform the Music That Makes You Die because GUN also has like an “informant” group of avatars they can rely on. These avatars don’t work for GUN, but they agree to chill out on the spooky stuff if it means they don’t get arrested for spooky crimes. So for Poison Rose, “chilling out” on the spooky stuff means that they have to force people to wear earplugs while they perform, which wasn’t specifically stated in MAG 42 if that works or not, not really sure of the magic rules of the Music That Makes You Die phenomena but yeah they gotta do that and probably some other stuff so GUN doesn’t arrest them. Like maybe no swearing or something lol.

Okay gonna stop there before this gets even longer explaining my AU because this was supposed to be just a normal sketch post but whoops.

Oh also I made a playlist for the kind of music Poison Rose performs but it was made private because I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it and be like “pshhhh this dumb person who makes public playlists of their AU that no one knows about what a loser” (me when I make up completely unrealistic scenarios in my head) but now here’s a post explaining that part of my AU so that person can’t make fun of me anymore

[fairytsuk1]

play fighting with katsuki<3

katsuki had said time and time again, "don't wanna hurt you on accident, baby. cut it out."

but you were relentless. you craved, needed and practically begged for katsuki to wrestle you to the ground as you flailed uselessly under him.

there was something about the way his forearms flexed as he pinned your wrists to the plush carpet of your home; katsuki would grin wickedly as he straddled you and brought his face centimeters from yours. "had enough yet?"

"nope," and you're worming your way from his gentle grip to kick up at his chest, though he catches your foot with ease. "hey, no fair! don't fold me!"

but he had already decided, you needed to be brought back down to earth. katsuki's hips solidly glue to yours as he leans over fully to bring your ankles by your ears. he had you folded like a pretzel. no matter how you squirmed and whined, katsuki had you in the most delicious mating press.

"yeah, i know, justtt fuckin' take it. you asked for this, nah, you begged for it."

he had you crying, hands pushing your thighs closer to your head as his cock drove into you over and over again. katsuki's a sweaty mess above you, tongue dipping out to lick at his lips while his eyes honed in on how your gummy walls gripped the base of his cock with each thrust.

"katsuki, kats', katsuki!! i can't, 's too much!"

"uh uh," he tuts and shifts his hips till he's angled upward and battering against that spongy spot deep inside you. "you wanted to fight, so we're fighting, baby. you're losing."

your face scrunches up and he grins cockily at your bleating whimper, "you're too strong! it's not fair!"

"not fair? 's not fair? awh, but weren't you just begging me to get on top of ya? you wanted this as much as i did."

you can't say no, in fact, you can't even reply as your husband fucks your brains out. his hips messily clap against yours with slick thumps against your ass; it smells of sweat and sex, and katsuki is reveling in your body as he rolls his fat cock deep into your guts.

"fuck, 'm in there, aren't i? fuuuck, i love fucking this sweet pussy. you just know what to do," he groans into your neck, hunckering over you to relentlessly pound you into your soft carpet.

"gonna cum, gonna cum!!"

you can barely reply to him, only able to feel how he fucks into your cunt with the ferocity of a man starved. a man in control, and you're delirious as you wrap yourself around katsuki as an anchor.

he knows your body, knows you're getting so close when your pretty feet curl into crescents and your head flies back—your hair splayed out on the ground and looking so delectable as the swan of your neck grows exposed.

"yeah, that's it, fuckin' cum on my cock. cum for your husband, you know you wanna give in."

and you do give in. hard. you're crying out and squirting from effort as your orgasm overtakes you. katsuki is right behind you, driving his hips deep one last time before spurting creamy white inside you. you can feel each pulse, and it drives you so wild that your eyes roll back.

"thereee we go," he grunts, hips twitching as he massages the backs of your thighs. katsuki lightly pats your cheek, thumb rubbing over the plump skin before pulling away.

"that was only round one, you know. i wanna go again," he's nosing at your jaw now, still having you pinned underneath him. "let's go again. come on, you can take me."

and you do, willingly. naturally, katsuki ends up tackling you to the ground with a joyful laugh, and all you can do is smile and let your man do what he does best. fight and fuck.

[oaksgrove]

Midnight Cravings.

pairing: Husband!John Price x Pregnant!Reader

synopsis: When a midnight craving strikes, John Price doesn’t hesitate to throw on a sweater and slippers to make sure his wife gets exactly what she wants.

warnings: Pure fluff, pregnancy cravings, devoted husband Price, excessive tenderness, and a very serious approach to fast-food missions.

word count: 833

The clock on the bedside table glowed with unforgiving numbers—2:37 a.m. John Price groaned softly, shifting beneath the covers, barely clinging to sleep when he felt a gentle nudge at his shoulder.

“John.”

Your voice was a soft whisper in the dark, hesitant but insistent. His instincts kicked in before his brain fully caught up—his warm, calloused hand immediately found your thigh beneath the blankets, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice was thick with sleep, but concern edged through.

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting against your growing belly. “I… I think I need a McChicken. With extra bacon.”

For a moment, silence settled over the room. Then, a soft chuckle rumbled from John’s chest, deep and affectionate.

“Now?” he asked, voice still heavy with sleep, but his feet were already shifting, instinctively preparing to move.

“Now,” you confirmed, looking a little sheepish, but your resolve was firm. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. I swear I can taste it.”

John groaned dramatically but was already throwing off the covers, running a hand over his face before swinging his legs out of bed.

“You’re lucky I’d do anything for you,” he muttered, reaching for his sweater.

You watched him, grinning as he pulled it over his head. His mussed-up hair stuck out in places, and the sight of your rugged, battle-hardened husband looking slightly disoriented in sleepwear and dedication made your heart swell.

“You’re amazing,” you said as you slipped into one of his oversized hoodies.

John huffed, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you fed before you start listing my other good qualities.”

You smirked, following him out into the cold night. Little did he know—you had a whole list.

The car ride was peaceful, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional quiet laugh. You rested your head against the window, watching the empty streets roll past.

John’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, his thumb idly stroking along your knee as he drove.

“You look like a bear,” you teased, eyeing his comfy sweater and slippers combo.

He shot you a sidelong glance, smirking. “A bear who’s about to hunt down a McChicken for his missus.”

You giggled, shifting closer to him. “My hero.”

He squeezed your thigh. “Damn right.”

At the drive-thru, John placed the order with military precision.

“McChicken with extra bacon,” he said firmly, as if coordinating an extraction.

The teenager at the speaker sounded amused. “And anything else?”

John turned to you, brows raised. “Fries? Milkshake?”

You nodded eagerly. “Fries and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

He relayed the request without hesitation, his voice calm and confident—as if this was the most important mission he’d ever undertaken.

When the bag was handed over, he gave a satisfied grunt, inspecting the contents like a seasoned professional. “There we go. Operation McChicken is a success.”

Parked beneath the glow of the McDonald’s sign, you curled up in the passenger seat, unwrapping your treasure. The first bite had you sighing in satisfaction.

John watched you, amused but utterly enamored, the warm glow of the dashboard lights flickering across his face.

“This,” you said between bites, your voice full of bliss, “is exactly what I needed.”

John leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“Anything for you, love.” He reached over, placing a warm hand over yours on your belly. “And for the little one.”

Your breath caught slightly, overwhelmed by how easily he melted you with just a few words.

You turned your hand in his, squeezing gently. “You’re going to be such a good dad, you know that?”

His smile faltered just a fraction, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

“Hope so,” he murmured. “I mean to be.”

The depth of emotion in his voice made your chest ache. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled jaw.

“You will be,” you whispered against his skin. “The best.”

John let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on you, grounding himself in your touch.

For a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you, a bag of midnight fast food, a shared secret of anticipation, and the warmth of knowing that no matter what came next—you’d never have to face it alone.

As he started the car, he smirked. “Think we’ll be doing more of these midnight runs?”

You licked some sauce off your thumb, grinning. “Oh, definitely. Next time? Hot fudge sundae.”

John chuckled, shaking his head as he backed out of the lot.

“Christ, I’ve created a monster.”

You rested a hand on his arm, tracing absent patterns over his sleeve. “Yeah, but she’s your monster.”

John huffed a laugh, bringing your hand to his lips for a slow, lingering kiss.

“And I love her for it,” he murmured.

As you drove home together, his fingers laced through yours, you knew one thing for certain—this wouldn’t be the last time.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash

[oreo-creampies]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: true form!sukuna, monster fucking with alpha!sukuna, A/B/O (meaning alpha, mega, and beta) no alpha and mega title used, daddy/mama, praise/teasing/mocking/praising degradation, biting, knotting, werewolf venom makes their mate go into heat to keep up like in the fic mine with werewolf toji, fucking on fur bedding, you said clan and for some reason my brain went wood bedframes and fur blankets no technology, we get candles for light, they have fangs venom and claws with sukuna have his true form extraness, double pentration, overstimulation, dacryphilia, biting, blood, pain kink, light size kink, toji is praising you while fucking you like he hates you, choking, full nelson, sukuna calls you pet twice, mind break, cream pie, fucking their cum into you. belly bulge from the amount of cum, forced orgasm, squirting

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Requesting for clan leader! Gojo 😔🙏 gotta have that breeding kink in their somewhere!! Mans whole clan is asking for an heir right after you get married. In my mind Geto is still alive and kicking and has his own family. Gojo gets a terrible case of FOMO and ends up wanting a whole litter of kids for himself. goin at it like rabbits for DAYS.

Oreo: not this being in the drafts since September! im sorry anon! This was also giving me werewolf vibes with the word clan so one think lead to another. it gave me the chance to write the reader belly bulging with sukuna's cum so im excited about that

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Slapping your sloppy cunt, stuffing his thick warm cum in with two fingers he bit the claws off on. Whining, twisting your hips away. Smirking down at you, crooning “Where ya going mama thought you wanted to make me a daddy?” Pulling you into place by your hips.

You want Satoru’s fingers, cock, tongue, and cum filling you up. “I do wanna make you a daddy but you're too much. Can't keep cumming, but I wanna at the same time." Hooking your leg around his waist pulling him in.

His eyes momentarily widen. Ordering in a needy plead, “Call me daddy again mama.” Sliding your hand over his broad shoulders, down his thick pecs and abs. Over countless thin and thick scars ranging from pink to white in color.

“Daddy please lemme feel you!” Sliding your hand down his hard abs, biting you lip when he purposefully flexes. Grabbing your thighs pinning you in a firm mating press. Following the short wispy whine happy trail down to his beautiful long cock.

Lining his pale cock head up with your soft lip. Stroking yourself with his cock, circling your soft clit. He's so warm, soft yet hard. His breathy moan gets you off. “But you are feeling me, what more can my mama need?” Dipping his head, sinking his sharp fangs into your tit.

Moaning, he's intoxicating, sweet, warm, and pleasurable like having him massaging your sweet spot with his fingers. Your body is getting hotter. Thick slick drips down, your cunt aching with an insatiable need for Satoru.

Flicking your soft nipple with his warm tongue. Sucking, sinking his fangs in deeper when you cry. Shifting your hips trying to slip him in, whining when Satoru pulls back. Whipping the blood from his lips with his thumb.

"What does my mama need?" Nudging your sensitive cunt with his cock, spreading his hand on your stomach pinning you still. Gliding his cock up your clit refusing to touch your clit.

Admiring how your cunt split to take his pale pink cock head. Pleading with him, "Please give me more than the tip! I need you to knot me, keep your cum deep inside my sensitive cunt, please!" Slowly giving you his head head, letting the soft ridge vanish before gliding out. Lightly tugging on your cunt.

"You sure you need more than just the tip?" Nudging in his head, leaving it there, pressing down harder when you squirm. "You said I'm too much mama, you sure ya need me to knot n’ cum in ya?"

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

"Fuckin finally I can stuff ya full of cum again." Bending you over on the soft pile of blankets. Pulling your ass in the air, squeezing when you wiggle, piercing your skin with his sharp claws. Blood trickles down trickles down your hip. Thick cum drips down your thighs.

The pain is sweet mixing with mind-numbing pleasure. It's impossible to think, you can barely process Toji grunting, “I've been wanting to breed your sweet tight cunt for months. Ya gonna be so beautiful with your tits and belly swelling mama." Gliding his softening knot out tugging on your tight cunt, his cock is harder than before.

Despite stuffing your cunt full of cum three times. Toji is getting hornier, fucking your limp body harder. Testing your limits seeing how much you can take before you break.

Stepping on your head, roughly fucking his thick cock into you. Trembling, your sensitive cunt is gushing on his cock. How can still cum after the fifth you couldn't think to count.

The thick blankets muffle your moans, “Such a messy lil cunt she’s a beautiful lil super soaker. Gonna make you cream on my cock till my knot won’t swell up anymore.” You would be convinced he hates you with the merciless way he's fucking his fat veiny cock into you. If not for Toji's words and the fresh bite on your neck.

Bent over, back arched, legs spread with your cunt stuff his heavy balls slap your clit. His swelling knot catching on your tight sensitive cunt. "Fuck mama squeeze my fat cock with your tight sloppy wet cunt. Nnn I've always thought about how hot of a milf you'd make."

Slapping your ass, squeezing your cheek. Fucking you harder, the fur blanket muffling your cries. "Your beautiful little cunt is always so tight when you're in heat." Moving his foot, your body lurches forward from the strength of thrusts. "Fuck you're so damn perfect mama takin' my cock like a slut." Grabbing your hair, yanking your back.

Your back hits his hard chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, standing up, your legs dangle, held by your hair, neck, and his thick cock balls deep in you. "Please Daddy please daddy please!" Squeezing his thick veiny cock, he's filling you up perfectly, stroking your sweet spot.

"Since that's all my stupid little whore can moan, you don't need to breathe right? I can fuck your cunt into a gapping broken cum stuffed mess with my hands crushing your neck, right?" Grabbing your thighs, propping your calf over his thick forearm. Pinning you to his chest in a full nelson.

Squeezing your throat, groaning, "Ya gonna be a beautiful mama, gonna suck on your tits when they drip milk. Make sure they don't get too full like your pussy is 'bout to be." His swelling knot tugs on your soaking wet cunt.

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Gliding his thick, veiny tattooed cocks out. "It's starting to trickle out the sides." Pushing on your bulging stomach, thick cum gushing from your sore, gaping cunt. Sukuna croons, "Don't pass out on me yet pet I'm having fun playing with you." His stomach's tongue relentlessly stroking your sensitive clit. Keeping you in an intoxicating mind numb pleasurable high, boarding on almost painful.

Lining his cock up, rolling his hips, arching your back, twisting your hips away from his slow deep thrusts. "Please don't stop!" Tears roll down your cheek when he pulls your hips back into place. Lifting you off the bed, slamming you down on his thick cocks.

The tip of his sharp claws digging into your skin shouldn't feel so good.

Taunting you, "Poor little pet can't even handle me n' you're cryin' for more! Keep fighting to stay awake mama. I need ya to keep taking my cocks till they get soft." Using your hips to guide your hot tight, squelching cunt on his thick cocks. Your cunt clenches, it feels too good to be senselessly fucked into a mindless mess by Sukuna.

Biting your side and breast, your body jolts, and your cunt clenches. It's too much venom at once, forcing your sensitive cunt to squirt on his cocks. "Fuckin' messy slut soaking the whole damn bed." Gliding his hand up your side, cupping your breast biting down.

Giving that intense high of squirting, yet your cunt can only spasm, getting tighter. Your body shaking, toes curling eyes rolling back. "If you do pass out mama, I could fuck my cum into your soft beautiful cunt when you're sleeping." Smirking grabbing your neck lifting you up right.

Looking up from Sukuna's thick pecs into his beautiful face. Dark crimson eyes glowing from his rut. "It would be a pity if I couldn't see you I love seeing you cryin'. But I wonder if your sweet little cunt will grip my cocks the same." Grabbing his arm and digging your short sharp claws in.

Sukuna leans his head back groaning. "Ya feel so fuckin' good mama, seein’ ya fighting to keep going this long is makin' is exciting. I might not be able to stop until your body gives out." His massive body trembles, your soft, soakign wet tight hot cunt squeezing and squelching on his fat cocks getting him off.

Fucking you faster on his cock. Flexing his arms when you pierce his skin. Thin rivulets of blood tricking down his biceps. Sukuna hunches over to roughly kiss you slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You're utterly helpless to do anything but happily take Sukuna's thick cocks. It's perfect you don't need to think or move. Only get fucked till you can't handle anymore.

[stevebabey]

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers

summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.

How hard could it be?

[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]

STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL

"Be my girlfriend."

The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.

You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"

Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.

"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."

You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.

Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.

"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."

Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."

Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.

"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"

Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.

"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.

"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"

"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."

He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.

"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."

Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.

"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"

He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.

"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."

You take in his words. "But you're not."

"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.

"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."

You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."

Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."

His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.

"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."

You take a moment to think it over.

"When is it?"

"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."

"Dress code?"

"Formal. Duh."

"How many people?"

"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."

Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.

You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?

Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.

You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.

It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?

Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.

Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.

Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.

"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."

You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.

He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."

You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.

Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.

He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."

Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.

"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."

Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."

You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.

"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.

Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.

His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.

He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."

"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."

—

A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.

You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.

Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.

You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.

You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.

It would take an hour, tops.

A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.

"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.

Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"

You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.

"And just what are you trying to say?"

Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.

"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."

He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."

You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.

Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.

You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.

"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.

"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."

"Different?"

"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"

His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.

You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"

Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.

"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"

You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.

You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.

His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.

You could do that.

"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"

"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."

You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.

A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.

"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."

You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.

Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.

"Think this'll do?"

Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."

You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.

"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."

Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.

"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."

Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"

Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."

Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.

"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."

Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.

"And Brandon."

"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."

"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."

Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."

You blink, perturbed. "What?"

"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."

You cringe a little. He does have a point.

"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.

You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."

Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.

"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"

You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.

"Yeah," You say.

Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.

Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.

You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.

"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"

Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."

"You lost that game."

"I still scored!"

"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."

Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."

You laugh again, soft and light.

"Who asked who?"

"I asked you." Steve says.

You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.

What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.

Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.

That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?

You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.

You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.

For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.

"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"

"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."

He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.

"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.

Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"

Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."

Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!

Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"

Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.

"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.

"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"

STEP TWO: THE ACT

Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.

Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.

You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.

"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.

He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.

You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.

"We got together the 20th—"

"—of June, last year." You finish for him.

Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."

You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"

"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."

That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.

"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.

"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."

"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."

Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.

What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.

You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"

Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.

"They definitely did."

There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.

Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.

"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.

The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."

"Steve."

"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."

"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.

"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.

"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."

"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.

You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.

"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.

Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.

You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."

Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.

Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.

Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.

"Ready?"

Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.

He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.

A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.

As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.

Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.

Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.

Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.

Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.

Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?

“Steven.”

The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.

You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”

He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.

“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”

You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.

“No, Mom, you didn’t.”

There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.

That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.

“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”

The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.

Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.

“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”

You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.

Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.

“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”

This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.

The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.

“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.

Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.

“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”

It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.

Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.

“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”

“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?

You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.

Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.

“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.

“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”

Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.

He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.

“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.

“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.

Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.

The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.

“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”

The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”

For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.

However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.

“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.

Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.

A new voice interrupts.

“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”

You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.

He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.

The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.

“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.

Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.

Then he does the same to you.

It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.

God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.

“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.

You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.

“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”

Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.

Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.

“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.

He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.

Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”

He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.

You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.

And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.

Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.

“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”

“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.

You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.

“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”

Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.

“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.

He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.

“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.

You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.

“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.

“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”

There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.

You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.

The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.

You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.

“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.

“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.

He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”

He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.

You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.

Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.

It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.

As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.

“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.

From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.

You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.

“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”

“You think?”

You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.

If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?

"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."

Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.

"Touchy?" He provides.

You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.

The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.

And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.

You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.

How different would it really be?

Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.

Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?

The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.

Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.

Just more. More of this.

Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.

"Hm?"

"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”

Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."

Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.

"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”

The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.

Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.

“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?

He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.

“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.

How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”

“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.

“Okay," You say. "Fair."

"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"

It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.

"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."

"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."

Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

"What about you?"

Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."

"Too late."

“Yeah, well, obviously.”

There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.

“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.

He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”

“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”

Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.

Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”

You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.

“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.

You’ve met him thrice.

Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.

Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.

“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”

Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”

Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”

Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.

Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.

You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.

You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.

“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.

Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.

“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”

There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”

Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.

A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.

“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”

Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.

“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.

You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”

He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.

“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”

The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.

Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.

Does he really think all those things about you?

Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.

He turns back to his father’s business friends.

“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”

You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.

It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”

You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.

Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”

There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”

“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”

Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”

Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.

You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”

“Eh, what’s the big difference?”

“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”

He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.

“Steve? Leaving so soon?”

The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.

“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”

Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.

Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.

Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.

“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”

He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.

“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.

“It’s like- wait, no—”

Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.

“Is he paying you?”

You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.

“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”

He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.

STEP THREE: THE KISS

You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.

You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.

And… oh.

He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.

For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.

And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.

Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.

He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.

“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”

The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.

“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”

Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.

STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.

You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.

Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.

You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.

Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.

Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.

By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.

Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.

As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.

“I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.

"What?"

"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.

"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."

You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."

Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"

His particular wording isn't lost on you.

"But you are mad." You press.

"I'm not."

You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?

"You sound mad."

Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.

"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"

“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”

Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.

"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"

“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”

That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?

Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.

His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.

"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"

He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"

He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.

A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.

"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.

"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."

"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."

He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.

"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”

There's desperation in his final plea.

A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.

A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.

"Wha... You never said anything."

It comes out a little insulted.

Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"

"I didn't think I was your type!"

Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.

"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"

"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”

Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.

“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."

"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.

He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.

"And... now?"

Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.

"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"

It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.

"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"

Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.

"Would you... want that?"

"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.

Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.

But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.

And there it is; the true revelation.

"And I don't think I want to."

The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.

He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.

How the hell did you miss it?

"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"

What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.

"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.

Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.

But you want to try.

That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.

He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.

He pauses just before your lips can touch.

Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.

Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.

You're excited.

His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.

"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."

The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.

He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.

You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.

"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.

"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"

"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.

God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.

"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.

You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.

"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"

Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.

"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."

Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.

You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.

Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.

One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.

Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.

As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.

taggin some peeps below! @illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime

@katsu28 @inthehystericalrealm @djarinova @cheugyphobe @sunshinesteviee

@sunlitide @citrinesparkles @bigfrogs

just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm

[azzandra]

Aw, man, can't believe it's been two years since I wrote that.

When I reblogged and added my little commentary, I actually hadn't anticipated my comment to be reblogged by more than a couple of mutuals or be seen outside of my followers. I was just sharing a term that popped up in my head as a joke.

If I knew this glib comment I dashed off one morning without much thought was going to breach containment and take on a life of its own, I probably would have added a few disclaimers.

Since then, I've seen some people miss the point about what I was talking about in a few huge ways, so I'll clarify now a few points:

I have nothing against the cockroach wife dude.

I don't know if that story is true or not (there are some weird people out in the world, so I won't dismiss it out of hand, but like. come on) and I sincerely do not care that his spankbank was exclusively taken up by a cockroach woman. The part of his tale that we should take as a parable is where he solely and without being forced by anyone else hinged his entire sexuality around an imaginary construct that then made him incapable of being attracted to real human women. Remember, his story starts with him complaining that he can't get it up with his human girlfriend without picturing her as a huge cockroach. He did that. Nobody forced him to develop this condition. This is a lesson for the rest of us.

people going 'I think they're both pretty!' like that's the centrist silver bullet to this phenomenon.

Listen, yeah. I agree. Both versions are meant to be attractive, just to wildly different demographics. You know who doesn't agree? The guys I'm talking about.

The dudes I am referencing do NOT think both characters are attractive to different people. They think the original is attractive to NOBODY, and everyone else in the world is just PRETENDING that the first one is attractive in any way, and they're convinced everyone else also objectively knows the original art is ugly but there's a conspiracy to subject poor defenseless heterosexual men to pictures of butt-ugly women in order to brainwash them or something.

The guys afflicted with Cockroach Wife Syndrome are on some gamerbro qanon shit where their perception of reality is slanted to a comical degree, but they think their experiences are objective and unbiased, and they're making it everyone else's problem.

people smugly going 'OP has an anime girl in their icon' like that's some sort of gotcha

Yeah, man, I'm not opposed to anime girls. I'm not even opposed to hentai, or blender porn, or masturbation. I think everyone deserves to masturbate if they want to, and the way the world is going, we all probably deserve to masturbate a lot more (porn addiction isn't a real thing, my dudes). I accept that some people are going to jerk it to stuff that I don't find attractive, and maybe consider repulsive, and that's just going to be a fact of life from here unto eternity. We all need to come to terms to that.

But the Cockroach Wife Syndrome sufferers do NOT want to accept it. They want the entire world to have only one porn preference that aligns neatly to their own, and also they want all fictional depictions of women everywhere to adhere precisely to their porn preference.

And like, why would we do what these guys say? Now, me, personally, each time I see one of their yassified sexy edits of an already pretty female character, it always looks like the tackiest shit to me, like they're a toddler who got into mommy's make-up. I want to start a GoFundMe to send them to beautician school. I don't care how much they screech about it, they cannot convince me their aesthetic tastes are something to emulate, so I coined this term for them just so I had a name for their obnoxious behavior.

All that being said, in the time since I wrote this post, I discovered it gained some traction outside of tumblr. "Cockroach Wife Syndrome" was added to Urban Dictionary. There are people slinging around the term on twitter. I personally got jumpscared by running into it in the wild on reddit, which was how I found out people are actually using it. Honestly, I am not that hyped about this being my legacy (and I am so sorry to the OP of this post that I got them stuck with seeing every reply or tag someone ever makes about the cockroach wife guy, like I'm some malevolent storytime cuckoo who dropped disturbing internet tales in their nest). But ultimately, I think this one is actually on the thousands of people who reblogged it and considered that I described a phenomenon that they also observed.

Y'all stay safe out there, and remember to vary your masturbation material once in a while.

i wish i could see this picture for the first time again

[enwoso]

lovie as a newborn and just cute moments with alessia

MOMENTS WITH YOU | alessia x child!reader

nine cute little moments with lovie as a newborn/baby

grumpy masterlist

1. middle of the night talks.

— it was the middle of the night, 3:42am to be precise and alessia was busy pacing her bedroom as she rocked you gently in her arms, hoping it would lull you into sleep.

the soft glow of the nightlight casted a warm hue over the room, the only sound in the room was alessia's quiet shushing noises as she swayed from side to side.

"listen little one," alessia whispered, resting her cheek against your tiny head. "i love you more than anything but i need you to sleep."

your little lips smacked together, your body still fidgeting in your mummy's arms.

"i know, i know, it's a big scary world," alessia sighed rubbing soothing patterns on your back, "but lovie, i haven't had a solid four hours of sleep since your arrived. help me out?"

you responded with a soft whimper, burying your face deeper in your mummy's chest. alessia let out a tried chuckle, "you're lucky you're the cutest thing ever."

finally your tiny breaths evened out and alessia sat back down in the bed and your arms still wrapped protectively around you.

even in the exhaustion that was definitely piling up since you'd arrive just a little less than three weeks ago, there was something so peaceful about it. just the two of you in the little word, awake while everyone slept.

"you and me, baby," she whispered. "always."

—

2. facetime chaos.

you were curled up on your mummy's chest, your tiny body wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket as alessia propped her phone up against a pillow. her screen lighting up with a facetime call and soon, a chorus of excited voices filled the room.

"can we see her? let us see her!" ella shouted practically shoving millie out of her way just to get closer to the screen.

"chill guys!" alessia laughed, picking her phone up and turning the camera so the girls could see you, as you slept through the chaos.

"oh my days," katie breathed out as her hand went over her mouth, "she's so small"

"she's perfect less," maya beamed in awe, her eyes wide and filled with joy.

you stirred slightly, making a small noise as you cozied back into your mummy's arms. the noise making the whole group melting.

"less, you have to bring her to a match," millie said all the girls cheering in agreement as alessia smiled before adding that they'll have to wait till you were a little bit older.

"she needs her own tiny united kit too!" one of the girls piped up as a smirk appeared on alessia's face as they began to bicker about what name that you should have on the back of your tiny shirt.

"oh i already have one," alessia grinned, "she's gonna be the cutest mascot in history with the number twenty three!"

ella leaned closer to the screen, "little one, open your eyes if you wanna come live with auntie tooney."

you moved slightly but other than that you remained completely unfazed still fast asleep as small snores come from you.

"i think that's a no.." alessia grinned as the girls burst into laughter and for the first time in weeks since you had arrived, alessia felt like herself again.

sure, she was exhausted and her life had completely and utterly changed but for the best possible reason - but some things like her team and the love they shared for one another stayed exactly the same.

and now, she had you to share it with.

—

3. bath disaster.

alessia had seen plenty of videos on how to bathe a newborn, had advice from her midwife and her mum but none of them prepared her for how slippery a tiny wriggly newborn could be.

"alright lovie, this is supposed to be relaxing," alessia murmured as she gently lowered you into the warm water in your small baby tub.

your little arms flailed around as your face scrunched up as if you were considering whether to cry or not.

"it's okay," alessia soothed, cupping water over your belly and for a second it seemed like you were getting used to it, that you actually liked it but then suddenly you let out an ear piercing wail.

"oh no, no" alessia panicked slightly as she adjusted her grip, "lovie i swear i'm not trying to drown you!"

your tiny hands grasped at the air as your face turned bright red as you screamed.

"okay, bath times over," alessia announced as she lifted you out of the bath and quickly into a fluffy towel. "think that was a little traumatic for both of us, eh?"

you sniffled, still fussing as alessia sat on the floor of the bathroom, the same old hoodie which had baby milk and other days old stains on it as she brought you close into her chest rocking you gently.

"see? all good now," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your damp forehead as your body still shook slightly from your sniffles as your cries got quiter.

not even two seconds late, just as alessia was finally calming herself down, you seemingly over the whole bath thing as you peed all over the clean towel.

"yeah, okay," alessia groaned slightly, the joys of motherhood, as she shook her head slightly. "next time, nonna is doing this-"

—

4. watching football together

it had been weeks since alessia had even thought about football properly. of course it had been there but for once it wasn't the forefront of her mind.

she missed it, missed the pitch, the team, the rush of playing but for right now her world revolved around you and soaking up as many firsts with her first born as she could. knowing these moments would form core memories.

but still she figured it was never too early to introduce you to the game.

getting herself comfy on the sofa as she settled you on her chest, facing the tv. the women's super league match on the big screen and the match was no other than — united vs arsenal.

"okay, lovie this is important," alessia whispered as she ran her fingers lightly over your back. "you gotta know the game if your gonna be the next best thing!"

you let out a tiny sigh, your small warm body relaxed against your mummy. no doubt as you were moments away from falling asleep.

"see, that's auntie mary in goal — best in the world and there's auntie tooney but don't ever listen to her when she tells you she's better than me!"

your hand twitched slightly and alessia chuckled, "you agree, don't you?"

for a little while, alessia just lay with you content in her arms as she stroked a thumb over the back of your hair, smoothing down the small baby hairs sticking up on the back of your head.

the quiet sounds of the game playing in the background as you eventually dozed off, completely content.

alessia smiled down at you, pressing her lips to the top of your head. "one day you'll be watching me out there again," she whispered, "and i hope i make you proud."

—

5. sleepy cuddles

it had been another long night. you'd been up every two hours, fussing and crying and alessia was running on fumes.

she lay on the back of the sofa, her body aching and mind foggy. you were finally asleep resting on your mummy's chest as your tiny fingers curled onto alessia's shirt.

alessia knew she could put you down in your crib and use this time to rest herself, have some time to herself but she couldn't bring herself to move.

instead she just tightened her arms around you and closed her eyes, as she listened to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

"one day you won't need to hold you like this," she whispered as she pressed a sleepy kiss to your forehead. "so i'm gonna hold you as much as i can now."

and with that, she left herself drift off, wrapped up in the safest place she knew — right there with her little girl.

—

6. family time with a side of chaos

it was the first proper family dinner since you'd arrived into the big world and as much as alessia loved her family she was starting to regret it.

her dad, mario was in the kitchen debating with her brother, giorgio about which way was the best way to cook pasta while luca was arguing with their younger cousins over who would be your favourite uncle.

meanwhile you, who was completely oblivious to everything going on as you were curled up in your car seat in a deep sleep.

alessia leaned back taking a sip of her water bottle, shaking her head slightly. "she can sleep through all this but wakes up the moment i put her in her crib at home?"

alessia's dad appeared beside her, placing a plate in front of her. "she's got italian in her less, she's already used to the noise." alessia just laughed as she picked up her fork.

as dinner was well under way, you'd woken up as you sat in your mummy's lap. brightly curious eyes looked around the dinner table as luca began to speak.

"right little one, time for your initiation!" luca smiled as alessia's head turned her brows raised in curiosity, wondering what it was.

"which is?"

her brothers as well as her parents all grinned the same smirk all on there lips as you sat curious and oblivious to everything going on around you.

gio help up a tiny baby spoon, "her first taste of pasta sauce!"

alessia's eyes went wide as she looked at the spoon which had a small amount of sauce on the spoon, a loud gasp leaving alessia's lips, "absolutely not!"

luca pouted, "oh cmon less, just a little-"

alessia stood firm, she hadn't realised they were just joking. "i will fight you." she warned, sending her brothers a warning glare.

luca sighed dramatically but leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead as your curious eyes watched everyone movements. "okay, but when she's older, i'm teaching her how to make proper pasta!"

alessia's mum, carol smirked, "not if i teach her first!"

alessia shook her head, but the smile that was presence on her lips won't go away. you may not of understood anything but you'd been born into a family that loved fiercely, argued loudly but would always, always have your back.

and really, what more could she ask for?

—

7. a typical sunday

sunday morning had always been slow and cozy in the russo househould. music would be playing in the kitchen as the smell of fresh coffee and toast filled the air.

everyone lazing around in their pyjamas long past breakfast and now with you in the mix, it was even better.

alessia sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, you tucked into her arms. her mum was already at the coffee machine placing alessia's cup near it as her dad sat at the table reading yet another sports magazine.

"morning" alessia yawned, using one hand to rub her eyes while the other kept a tight grip on you.

mario looked up from his reading and grinned, "morning, you two" he reached over rubbing a gentle hand over the top of your head, "did you let mummy sleep?"

alessia let out a tired laugh, "not even a little bit."

luca and gio walked in next, still both half asleep, but the second there eyes saw you, they perked up sighing a second.

"alright, give her here," luca smiled holding out his hands.

alessia hesitated as she looked down at your comfy position in her arms, "i literally just got her to settle."

giorgio just smirked, his quick mind thinking of a smart retort, "she just likes us better, just admit it!"

but before alessia could protest, luca carefully took you from the comfort of your mummy's arms and into his as he cradled you from side to side. you barely stirred as your tiny fingers grasped into his hoodie.

"your joking," alessia's groaned, "why does she always sleep for you lot?"

you mum chuckled, placing a hot cup of much needed coffee on the table for alessia, "cause she knows she had all of us wrapped around her little finger!"

alessia shook her head, she couldn't fight the warmth which spread through her chest. she looked around at her family.

her brother bickering over who would get to hold you next as her dad still stared at his granddaughter like she was the most fascinating thing he'd ever laid eyes on. as her mum watched over them all with a knowing smile.

—

8. first time at the theatre of dreams

alessia hadn't made her return to the pitch just yet, but she was close. close enough that she was itching to be able to lace her boots up again.

for now though, she was in the stands with you watching as united took on chelsea under the bright lights of old trafford.

you were bundled in a warm red jacket, and matching red hat covering your soft hair and your own little pair of ear defenders to keep out the loud noises. your own little united kit on underneath your full body jacket which kept you warm under the chilled air of manchester.

alessia held you close, whispering the commentary into your ear. "there's mary, in goal - she'll make sure you never see a bad keeper in your life" alessia whispered as mary made a diving save.

"and there tooney - she's basically mummy's right hand but she can be a little silly but we love her anyway!"

you just yawned, unimpressed. alessia laughed, as she tucked another blanket around the two of you. "you're gonna love it here, baby i promise."

as the final whistle blew and the score ended level. alessia feeling a rush of emotions. emotions she'd missed while being out. but soon she'd be back out there again and this time she'd have someone extra special watching from the stands.

—

9. first time watching mummy play

alessia knew you would never remember it but she would, she would never forget it. her first game for united back playing football.

the roar of the crowd as the adrenaline filled her body as she was back on the pitch. and then after the final whistle she spotted her family in the stands.

you were bundled up in a tiny red united beanie one that had been specially made just for you as you were fast asleep in your nonna's arms.

alessia's heart clenched. she jogged over her body tired and breathless as she leaned over the barrier a big smile back on her face. "she seriously slept through my whole comeback?"

carol just laughed, "less she's just a baby. she doesn't understand what's going on!"

alessia shook her head but she was still smiling, nothing could stop her from doing that. "unbelievable."

she reached out and over the barrier as she brushed a gentle hand over your little cheek. one day, alessia would tell you all about it. but for now it was more than enough to know her little girl had been there.

[holyblonded]

lost and found | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!teader

summary: you get lost in the city of london, causing the team to panic

warnings: light angst i would say

notes: decision day is slowly approaching and i still haven’t figured out where i am going 💔

“You have your toothbrush?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Your Switch?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Did you pack your gum? I know you only like that specific brand.”

“In my front pocket, Ol.”

“And what about—”

“Ay!” Alexia’s voice cut through the rapid-fire questions as she appeared at the top of the stairs, suitcase rolling behind her. “The game is in England, not Australia.”

Olga shot her a glare. “I’m just making sure she has everything.”

“You’re acting like she’s going off to war,” Alexia huffed, joining the two of you at the door. “We’ll be back in three days. And you’ve asked her about her toothbrush three times already.”

“I just don’t want her to forget anything,” Olga argued, crossing her arms. “She always forgets something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Alexia beat you to it. “She’s not a child, Olga. She’s sixteen now, not five.”

“Exactly! Sixteen! Still a kid.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you cut in, hands on your hips. “I can pack my own suitcase.”

Both women looked at you, then at each other, then back at you. “No, you can’t,” they said in unison.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that forgetful.”

Olga raised an eyebrow. “Really? Last time you forgot your phone charger.”

“And your cleats,” Alexia added. “You had to borrow Lucy’s, and they were two sizes too big.”

Your cheeks flushed. “That was one time.”

Olga folded her arms, giving you a pointed look. “You also forgot your passport for the Madrid trip.”

“That was… also one time.”

Alexia snorted, shaking her head. “You nearly gave the whole team a heart attack when we realized at the airport.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, fine. Maybe I forget a few things.”

“A few?” Olga scoffed. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

Alexia laughed, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s just excited.”

You swatted her hand away, scowling. “I’m not a kid.”

“No,” Olga agreed, grabbing your suitcase and giving it a once-over. “You’re a teenager who needs to be reminded to pack her gum.”

You looked at her, exasperated. “I packed it! It’s in my front pocket. How many times do I have to say it?”

Olga narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you. She unzipped the front pocket of your backpack, digging around before pulling out the pack of gum triumphantly. “Okay, good. You’re off the hook for this one.”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “Olga, you’re acting like she’s going off to college, not an away game.”

“Someone has to be responsible,” Olga defended. “Especially since you’re the one who taught her how to pack last minute.”

You grinned. “Yeah, Ale, you did teach me that.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, feigning offense. “I taught you how to pack efficiently, not forget half your things.”

“Sure, sure.” You gave her a cheeky grin. “Whatever you say, ‘last-minute queen.’”

Olga looked between you two, hands on her hips. “Great. Now there are two of you.”

You and Alexia shared a look before bursting into laughter.

Olga sighed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. I’m surrounded by chaos.”

“Aw, come on, Ol,” you teased, nudging her arm. “You love us.”

She huffed, but her eyes softened. “Unfortunately, I do. Now, let’s get going before you two make us late.”

You grabbed your bag, giving her a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Alexia laughed, grabbing her suitcase. “Come on, chaos queen. Let’s go win a game.”

The three of you headed out the door, Olga grumbling about being stuck with the most forgetful people on the planet while you and Alexia shared a conspiratorial grin.

The plane had barely taken off, and you were already on your third lap around the cabin. There was just something about private planes that filled you with an uncontrollable burst of energy. Maybe it was the excitement of the upcoming game. Maybe it was the sugary snacks you’d snuck on board. Either way, you were bouncing off the walls, much to the team’s dismay.

“Estrella, sit down!” Patri shouted as you zoomed past her, nearly knocking over her water bottle.

“Can’t catch me!” you yelled back, leaping over Aitana’s outstretched legs as she tried to trip you.

Pina watched you with wide eyes, probably fearing for her life. “She’s going to bring the plane down,” she muttered to Marta, who just shook her head in resignation.

“You’d think she’s never been on a plane before,” Marta sighed, crossing her arms. “Does she have an off switch?”

“Apparently not,” Patri answered, dodging you again as you sped by, this time with a bag of chips in hand. “Estrella, those aren’t even yours!”

“Finders keepers!” you shouted, shoving another handful into your mouth as you took another lap.

Alexia’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Estrelleta. Sit. Down. Now.”

You skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into the seat in front of you. Turning around slowly, you met Alexia’s fierce glare. Her arms were crossed, her jaw set. She looked like she was about to lecture you into next week.

“Uh… just stretching my legs?” you tried, giving her your best innocent smile.

“Sit. Here.” She pointed to the empty seat next to her, leaving no room for argument.

You swallowed, trudging over to her like a scolded puppy. She waited until you were buckled in before giving you a look that made you shrink an inch. “You’re grounded for the rest of this flight,” she said firmly. “No more running. No more stealing snacks. And no more bothering the team.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were silenced by her raised eyebrow. “Yes, Ale,” you mumbled, slumping into your seat.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, jerking violently. You barely moved, used to the occasional bumps. But Alexia… she went rigid. Her hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her face lost all color, and she looked straight ahead, eyes wide and unblinking.

You blinked at her. “Uh… Ale?”

She didn’t respond. Her breathing quickened, and she looked like she was about to pass out. The plane dipped again, and she grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin. Hard.

You yelped. “Ale! You’re crushing me!”

Her grip tightened. “We’re going to die,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Your eyes widened. “What? No, we’re not! It’s just a little turbulence!”

“We’re going to crash. I knew it. I knew we should’ve taken the bus.”

“Ale, we’re over the ocean.”

She didn’t seem to hear you, her panic in full force now. Her nails dug into your arm as the plane shuddered again. You tried to pry her fingers off, but she was holding on with the strength of a hundred angry lions.

You looked around, desperate for help. Across the aisle, Lucy was watching, a smirk playing on her lips. You locked eyes with her, mouthing, Help me!

Lucy’s smirk widened. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.

Your jaw dropped at the betrayal.

You tried again to wriggle out of Alexia’s death grip, but she was unmovable, her eyes fixed on the seat in front of her like she was facing down her worst nightmare. “Ale, seriously, you’re cutting off my circulation!”

“If I die, you’re grounded forever,” she mumbled, voice trembling.

You groaned, slumping back in your seat. “If I survive this, you owe me so many snacks.”

Another bump, and Alexia’s grip tightened even more. You bit back a scream, deciding right then and there that you would never, ever run around on a plane again…. at least not when Alexia was onboard.

You walk with the team through the unfamiliar city streets, taking in the crisp air and the buzz of the city as you fall into step beside Aitana. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, your head on a swivel as you soak in the sights. It’s a routine walk before the big Champions League match, meant to loosen up your muscles and calm any nerves.

The air is charged with anticipation, and you can’t help the bounce in your step.

Aitana’s talking about something, probably the opponent’s midfield setup or a funny meme she saw, but you’re barely listening. Something’s caught your eye. You slow your pace, the rest of the group moving ahead as you stop in front of a shop window.

Your heart skips a beat. Plushies. The cutest plushies you’ve ever seen. A row of them, perfectly lined up behind the glass, big eyes sparkling and tiny paws outstretched. There are kittens, puppies, even a little fox that looks just like the one you used to carry around as a kid.

You press your face against the glass, eyes wide. You need them. All of them.

You look over your shoulder. The team is a few paces ahead, their laughter echoing down the street.

Without a second thought, you slip into the store, the bell above the door chiming as you enter. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cuteness in the small shop. Shelves upon shelves of plushies, each one more adorable than the last.

Meanwhile, Alexia’s heart is racing. She glances over her shoulder, expecting to see you trailing behind Aitana, your usual spot during these walks. But you’re not there. Her chest tightens.

“Has anyone seen Estrella?” she asks, voice sharp. Her eyes scan the group, counting heads. You’re not there.

Aitana turns, a frown forming. “She was right behind me…” Her voice trails off, eyes widening. “Oh no.”

Panic sets in fast. Irene’s head whips around, searching the street. Marta’s already jogging back the way they came, eyes darting from alleyways to storefronts.

“Estrelleta!” Alexia shouts, her voice echoing down the street. She doesn’t care about the stares from strangers or the worried looks from her teammates. Her chest is tight, her stomach churning. You’re gone.

Irene puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing tightly. “We’ll find her. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She’s sixteen,” Alexia hisses, her voice cracking. “In a city she doesn’t know. Alone.”

The rest of the team is buzzing with nervous energy, faces pale and eyes wide. They’ve all seen you sneak off before, but never like this. Never without telling someone where you’re going.

“She was here just a minute ago,” Patri says, voice trembling. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“We all should’ve,” Marta snaps, more at herself than anyone else. “Where the hell did she go?”

Alexia’s head is spinning. Images flash through her mind, dark alleys, strangers with bad intentions, you calling out for help and no one hearing you. Her heart races, her hands shaking as she digs out her phone. She tries calling you, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” She curses, panic twisting her gut. “Where are you?”

“We should split up,” Keira suggests, her voice urgent. “Cover more ground.”

“Agreed,” Irene says. “Alexia, you and Lucy check that way. We’ll go down the other street.”

Alexia’s moving before she can even think, Lucy at her side as they jog down the sidewalk, eyes scanning every corner, every doorway. She can feel her pulse in her throat, panic clawing at her insides. If something happened to you…

She shakes her head. She can’t think like that. You’re strong. Smart. But you’re also sixteen, and impulsive, and sometimes you don’t think things through.

Her chest tightens again. You’re also hers to protect.

“Estrella!” she shouts again, her voice breaking. “Where are you?”

Lucy grabs her arm, forcing her to stop. “Alexia, breathe. We’ll find her.”

Alexia presses her hands to her face, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. She can’t fall apart. Not now. Not when you need her. Then, she hears it.

“Oi! Where’d you guys go?”

Her head snaps up. You’re standing on the corner, arms full of plushies, eyes wide in confusion.

Alexia’s legs nearly give out in relief. She rushes toward you, eyes blazing. “Where the hell were you?”

You blink, looking down at the armful of stuffed animals. “Uh… I saw these and…”

“You saw plushies?” Her voice is shaking, fury and relief battling for dominance. “You saw plushies and decided to leave without telling anyone?”

Your face falls. “I was gonna catch up—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Her voice cracks, and you realize just how shaken she is.

Your heart sinks. “I’m sorry, Alexia. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She exhales, her shoulders slumping. She pulls you into a tight hug, nearly crushing the plushies between you. “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”

You nod against her shoulder, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I won’t. I promise.”

Irene, Marta, and the rest of the team catch up, relief washing over their faces as they see you safe and sound. Aitana looks at the plushies and bursts out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what you were doing?”

You sheepishly hold up the fox. “He looked lonely.”

Pina snorts. “You’re unbelievable.”

Alexia pulls back, wiping her eyes before anyone can see. “You’re grounded.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“For making me worry,” she snaps, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just pure relief. “And for sneaking off like that.”

You open your mouth to protest, but her fierce glare shuts you up. “After the match, you’re grounded. No arguments.”

You sigh, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fine. But can I at least keep the plushies?”

Alexia looks at the fox, then at your pleading face, and finally relents. “Fine. But they’re staying in the hotel room. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She pulls you in for another hug, holding you tightly. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she whispers.

You nod, hugging her back. “I won’t. I promise.”

As the team gathers around you, all joking and teasing, you realize just how loved you are. And as Alexia keeps you close for the rest of the walk, you understand just how much you mean to her.

[lov3yv4mps]

Hii!! Can you please do a period comfort with skz? Please and thank you!!!

Yes of course anon!!

‧ ୨ period comfort with skz ୧ ‧

SUMMARY: How stray kids members comfort you during your period

Pairings: stray kids x fem!reader (separately)

Warnings: just fluff!!

v4mps note: I tried to make these as accurate as possible, but this is my opinion! If it doesn't suit your opinion, I apologize :(

‧ ୨ bangchan ୧ ‧

This man is always prepared—like always. And when I say prepared, I mean he probably has a whole app on his phone just to track your cycle, complete with notifications so he knows exactly when to stock up on your favorite snacks, grab extra pads or tampons, and make sure the heating pad is ready to go. He loves seeing the happy smile when you notice his attention and care for you.

The second he notices it's that time of the month, he’s already one step ahead—texting you things like, “I got your favorite chocolate, baby. You want anything else?” Or maybe he just shows up with a little care package because he knows what you need before you even have to ask.

And when the cramps hit? Oh, he's on it. He’s tucking you into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach, whispering, “I got you, love. No stupid cramps are gonna hurt my baby.” If you need him to, he’ll even warm up your heating pad and hold it against your tummy himself—because no pain is touching his love on his watch.

If he finds you crying over the smallest things—like your eyeliner not matching or your hair not cooperating—Chan’s heart immediately softens. He kneels in front of you, gently wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Baby, don’t cry over this,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. With a small smile, he tilts his head. “Want me to fix it, or should we just cuddle instead?”

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ leeknow ୧ ‧

Lee Know notices before you even say anything. The slight wince, the way you press a hand to your stomach—he’s already on it. Without a word, he disappears and comes back with your heating pad, plugging it in and placing it on your lap. “You should’ve said something,” he mutters, but his touch is gentle as he tucks a blanket around you. He won’t make a big deal out of it, but he’ll make sure you have everything you need.

He acts nonchalant about it, but you know he’s paying attention. If you complain about cramps, he’ll scoff lightly. “Well, I can’t do anything about that.” But five minutes later, he’s sliding a cup of warm tea in front of you, pretending it’s no big deal. If you thank him, he just shrugs. “I just didn’t want to hear you complain later.” (But the way he subtly checks on you every few minutes totally gives him away.)

If he sees you getting emotional, he’s quick to shift your focus. He’ll plop down next to you, phone in hand, and start showing you cute cat videos like it’s urgent. “Look at this one. This is literally you.” If that doesn’t work, he’ll poke your cheek until you glare at him. “There she is. Thought I lost you for a second.” Anything to keep your mind off the discomfort.

Lee Know isn’t always the biggest on PDA, but when you’re in pain? He’s all yours. He lets you stretch out on the couch, head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly strokes your hair. “Just sleep,” he murmurs, his fingers moving soothingly against your scalp. He won’t say it outright, but the way he lets you cling to him, the way he adjusts so you’re comfortable? Yeah, he’s not letting you go until you feel better.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ changbin ୧ ‧

The moment Changbin hears you groan in pain, he’s on high alert. He rushes to your side, eyes full of concern. “Where does it hurt? What do you need? Say the word, and I got you.” He won’t rest until he’s sure you’re comfortable, tucking a blanket around you and making sure you have everything—snacks, water, even his hoodie if you want it.

If you’re feeling sluggish and mopey, he’s not letting you sink into the sadness. “C’mon, let’s go for a short walk, just to get some air.” If you refuse, he flops onto the couch next to you dramatically. “Fine, but at least let’s stretch a little.” He just wants to help you feel better, even if it means sitting there massaging your legs while making goofy faces.

He hates seeing you uncomfortable, so he’ll do anything to take your mind off the pain. He’ll put on a funny movie, tell you random stories, or even offer to do your skincare routine for you. “I’ve seen you do it a million times. How hard can it be?” (Spoiler: He gets way too into it, and you end up laughing at his concentrated expression.)

The second you lay down, Changbin immediately becomes your human pillow. He lets you rest on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. “You’re stuck with me now,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it’s all so comforting, you end up falling asleep in his arms, safe and loved.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ hyunjin ୧ ‧

If Hyunjin notices you're feeling off, he’ll instantly become the calm presence you need. He won’t rush to ask you a million questions, but he’ll quietly observe, sensing the shift in your mood. “You okay?” he’ll ask softly, his tone calm and gentle. Without making a fuss, he’ll grab your favorite blanket and wrap it around you, sitting close by, just quietly being there with you. Sometimes, he’ll rest his head on yours, offering his comfort through his presence alone.

When you’re feeling down or drained, Hyunjin knows that sometimes the best thing is a little peace and quiet. He’ll sit next to you, not demanding anything, just offering a steady, calming energy. He might gently stroke your arm or hair, his soft touch making you feel grounded. “I’m here, you don’t need to talk,” he’ll whisper, letting you know that just being near him is enough to help you relax.

Hyunjin has a way of bringing a calm vibe even in the quietest moments. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, he’ll quietly pull you into his arms, letting you rest your head on his chest. He’ll hum a soft tune, his voice low and soothing, creating a peaceful atmosphere that helps take your mind off any discomfort. “Just breathe, everything will be okay,” he’ll murmur, as you close your eyes, feeling safe in his embrace.

Even when he’s being calm and gentle, Hyunjin’s attention to you never wavers. If you mention cramps or feeling off, he’ll quietly get up to make you tea or get your favorite snacks, all without making it a big deal. When he returns, he’ll simply hand them to you with a small smile, his voice quiet but filled with care. “Here you go. Take it easy for now, okay?” His soft, caring nature always shines through in the simplest moments.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ han ୧ ‧

When Han notices you're feeling off, he’s the perfect mix of dramatic and calm. He’ll dramatically gasp and clutch his chest, “Noooo, not my baby,” but his soft, concerned gaze tells you he’s genuinely worried. He'll immediately get to work, grabbing your favorite snacks or a cozy blanket, all while maintaining that cool, quiet energy. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m here,” he’ll reassure you, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of sincerity that makes you feel safe.

If you're feeling overwhelmed, Han’s playfully dramatic side will come out to distract you. He’ll dramatically flop onto the couch beside you, letting out a huge sigh as if the whole world is crashing down. “The pain, the agony... I can’t bear to watch you suffer,” he’ll say, trying not to laugh as he gives you a playful look. He knows it’ll lighten your mood, and he’ll gently coax a smile out of you without being too much.

Though he’s playful, Han knows when to keep things quiet. He’ll sit next to you, quietly rubbing your back or running his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and steady. He won’t force conversation, just giving you the space to relax while still showing you that he’s there. “I’m right here… just rest, okay?” His calm, comforting presence wraps around you like a warm hug.

When you need comfort, Han’s sweetness comes out in the softest ways. He’ll pull you into his lap, his arms wrapped around you as he murmurs softly. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep... I’ve got you.” He’s quiet, but his gentle touches and soothing words make you feel like everything’s going to be okay, even when the world feels like it’s spinning.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ felix ୧ ‧

Felix, being the sunshine he is, will first make sure you're absolutely comfortable. He’ll tiptoe around the room quietly, making sure to dim the lights, as he knows a soft atmosphere helps you feel better. He’ll gently ask, “Do you want me to play your favorite playlist? I know the soft songs help when you’re not feeling well.” He’ll make you feel like a priority, always quietly moving to cater to your needs without making you feel like a burden.

When you're feeling down, Felix has a very nurturing side that shines. He won’t just offer a quick solution; he’ll really dive into the comfort routine. “How about a warm bath? I’ll make it nice and relaxing, and we can watch a show after,” he’ll suggest with a gentle smile. He’s meticulous about the little things, running the bath at the perfect temperature, lighting a candle, and making sure the towels are soft and ready when you’re done. It’s all about making sure you feel pampered.

Felix might be the type to prepare a surprise snack for you, but in a subtle way. He won’t make a big deal out of it; he’ll just quietly come back with your favorite treat and a cup of tea, setting it beside you with a soft grin. “I thought you might need a little something,” he’ll say, offering the snack with a sense of quiet joy. He doesn’t need praise for it, he just loves to see you taken care of and happy, even in the smallest ways.

If you're feeling really bad, Felix will make sure you're completely relaxed in his presence. He won’t try to push you to talk, but rather let you know that he’s here for you. He might offer to play a gentle game or even suggest you both take a nap together, where he’ll wrap his arms around you to keep you warm. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry. Just let me know if you need anything,” he’ll say, his voice soft and full of sincerity. It’s all about offering that quiet, protective comfort that makes you feel like everything will be okay with him by your side.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ seungmin ୧ ‧

Seungmin isn’t the type to be overly dramatic or overly soft, but when he notices you’re uncomfortable, he steps up in his own way. Without saying much, he’ll disappear for a few minutes and return with a heating pad, a glass of water, and whatever snack he knows you like. He won’t make a big deal out of it, just setting everything beside you with a simple, “Here. Take this.” It’s his way of showing care without making you feel fussed over.

If he catches you whining about cramps or feeling miserable, he won’t sugarcoat things. “You act like you’re dying every month,” he’ll tease with a smirk, but the second you glare at him, he’s already adjusting your blanket and tucking you in. He’s playful, but he knows when to draw the line. After his teasing, he’ll sit next to you and absentmindedly rub your leg or hold your hand, quietly making sure you’re okay.

Seungmin’s love language during your period is distraction. He knows sitting around focusing on the pain won’t help, so he’ll casually toss you the TV remote. “Pick something to watch, and don’t make it something boring.” If you’re not up for a show, he’ll challenge you to a game on your phone, knowing that getting competitive will make you temporarily forget about how bad you’re feeling.

If you’re extra tired and just want to rest, Seungmin won’t be over-the-top affectionate, but he’ll stay close. He might sit on the floor beside the couch, scrolling on his phone, but every once in a while, he’ll check on you with a soft, “You still alive?” If you fall asleep, he won’t move, letting you rest peacefully while he stays right there—quietly looking after you in the most Seungmin way possible.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ jeongin ୧ ‧

Jeongin may not always know exactly what to do when you’re feeling bad, but he tries his best in his own thoughtful way. The first thing he does is pull out his phone and search for the best ways to help with cramps or discomfort. “Okay, so Google says heating pads and snacks help... I can do that!” He’ll rush off to get everything, sometimes bringing back a completely random snack just because he thought it might cheer you up.

If he sees you curled up in pain, he’ll frown and sit beside you, resting his chin on his hand while observing you closely. “You look like you’re about to cry,” he’ll say, a little too bluntly, before quickly adding, “Do you want me to make you laugh? I’ll do something really dumb if it helps.” He’ll start making weird faces or doing a terrible dance just to see you smile, his own laughter filling the room when he sees it working.

Jeongin’s way of comforting you is casual but sweet. He won’t always say much, but he’ll stay close, scrolling on his phone next to you or playing a game while occasionally glancing over. Every so often, he’ll nudge your arm and say, “You good?” If you mumble that you’re not, he’ll sigh dramatically and hand you his hoodie. “Here. Hoodies fix everything.”

If you’re feeling extra exhausted, Jeongin will get a little softer without making it obvious. He’ll let you rest your head on his lap while he plays with your hair, humming softly without even realizing it. When he notices you getting sleepier, he’ll whisper, “Just sleep, I’ll wake you up if anything happens.” His quiet, reassuring presence makes you feel safe, and though he might pretend he’s not doing anything special, he secretly loves taking care of you in these little ways.

[rosiecosy]

come back home୨ৎ

(ot13 x reader) — angst, comfort

fights weren’t common between you and the boys, but when they happened, they always felt big.

tonight was no different.

you weren’t even sure how it started—something small, something dumb. maybe you were feeling overwhelmed, maybe they were frustrated too. but words were said, voices were raised, and suddenly, the walls of the dorm felt too tight, their voices too loud, the weight of their concern too heavy.

so you left.

you barely registered the way the door clicked shut behind you, barely noticed the cold bite of the night air against your skin. all you knew was that you needed space.

—

your feet carried you to the nearest park without much thought.

it was mostly empty at this hour, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the only sound was the distant hum of passing cars, the occasional rustling of leaves. it was quiet. peaceful. a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the dorm.

you wandered over to the swings, hands shoved into your pockets as you let out a slow breath.

maybe you had overreacted. maybe you should’ve just stayed and talked things through. but it was hard—being the youngest, the only girl in a dorm full of overprotective boys. they meant well, you knew that, but sometimes it was exhausting. too many opinions, too many voices telling you what to do, too many people hovering, worrying, questioning.

and you knew they only did it because they cared, but sometimes… sometimes you just needed to breathe.

you sat down on the swing, the chains creaking softly as you pushed off the ground. the rhythmic motion was soothing, the cool air helping to clear your mind. you closed your eyes, letting the weight of the night settle around you.

—

meanwhile, back at the dorm, the boys were spiraling.

"she’s not picking up," minghao muttered, lowering his phone.

"maybe she just needs a minute," vernon offered, though he sounded unsure.

"what if she doesn’t come back?" seokmin blurted out, eyes wide.

"don’t be ridiculous," woozi sighed, though his grip on his phone was tight.

"what if something happens to her?" mingyu asked, looking way too close to panicking.

"okay, enough," seungcheol cut in. "jun, jeonghan, joshua—you check the streets. hoshi, woozi, dino—stay here in case she comes back. the rest of us will check nearby cafés or parks."

"we’re not splitting up like a horror movie," jeonghan muttered, but he was already grabbing his coat.

—

you didn’t know how long you had been swinging when you heard footsteps approaching.

you blinked, slowing your movement, turning your head just in time to see seokmin and mingyu jogging toward you, relief washing over their faces the second they spotted you.

"there you are!" seokmin huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"we’ve been looking everywhere," mingyu added, slightly breathless.

you blinked at them, a little guilty but mostly just tired. "i was just getting some air."

your phone buzzed in your pocket—seungcheol’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitated before answering.

"…hi?"

"where are you? are you safe? why didn’t you answer your phone?"

"i’m fine," you sighed. "i just needed to clear my head."

"stay where you are. we’re coming."

you didn’t get a say in it.

—

when you got back to the dorm, thirteen pairs of eyes were on you.

seungcheol looked like he wanted to lecture you. seungkwan looked like he wanted to cry. dino looked like you had personally betrayed him.

"i was literally gone for, like, twenty minutes," you pointed out.

"twenty minutes too long," hoshi muttered.

"don’t do that again," jeonghan sighed, pulling you into a hug.

"we thought you left for good," dino mumbled.

your expression softened. "what? why would i do that?"

they all exchanged awkward glances.

"…because of the fight?" jun said hesitantly.

you blinked. "guys."

"you left without saying anything," joshua pointed out.

"because i knew i’d come back," you said. "i just needed some space, that’s all."

seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temples. "just—next time, tell someone, okay?"

guilt crept in at the worry in his voice. "okay. i’m sorry."

they all nodded, still looking a little shaken but relieved.

"now, group hug?" seokmin suggested.

before you could protest, you were pulled into a mess of arms, warmth, and way too much body heat.

"okay, okay, i get it!" you laughed. "i’m not going anywhere."

"good," woozi muttered. "because that was awful."

"never again," seungkwan mumbled into your shoulder.

and despite everything—despite the fight, despite the worry—this felt like home.

[81pastrys]

Lost at a Race

Summary— when Lando’s wife goes on a business trip, he has to bring his little girl to the paddock with him. However, when he got distracted she wondered off.

Warnings— none

A/N— I was inspired by someone else’s fic, if I find it I will be tagging the original!! I added a little Carbono too.

Lando didn’t like his wife’s idea of having his little girl at the paddock without her, but he had no choice. She was out for a business trip and he had free practices to do. When it came down to it he took his eyes off her for not even 10 seconds and she was gone.

“Where did she go?” He asked, slightly panicked. Hoping she just went to Oscar’s side of the garage. “I just had her next to me.” He went on. Oscar noticed his panicked teammate and trotted over.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, mate.” Oscar stated. Then it hit him, where’s little Norris? “Wait, where’s your daughter?” His eyes widened and they split up to look for the little girl.

The garage hadn’t noticed their drivers disappear, let alone scrambling around looking for a toddler. When they did, the drivers were already jogging from garage to garage asking for her. “She looks just like me? Did she come in here?” Lando asked a Ferrari member. A shake of their head was all he needed to move on.

“Little curly headed baby, looks like Lando?” Oscar asked a RedBull mechanic. The guy looked towards the pit lane and then back to Oscar. “I need an answer Lando’s going nuts right now.” He spat out quickly to show the urgency. The mechanic shrugged his shoulders with a no.

However in the Williams garage, Carlos was holding the little girl. Her favorite uncle. He was showing her around and explaining things. Alex had joined in, seeing how adorable she was and couldn’t resist. “She’s adorable, Lily would die seeing me with her.” He joked.

Carlos took a picture of the three of them and it was sent to their girlfriends along with Lando. Lando had made it to Haas before he got the message, severely panicked and shaken up by losing his little girl. He had called his wife at this point and had her freaking out from a different country. “Fucking wanker.” Lando mumbled seeing the text.

“What?! Did you find her?” His wife rambled on, still freaking out. “Lando!” She yelled. He sighed before slowly making his way to William’s. He motioned to Oscar, who was confused seeing as he had no little girl.

“She’s at William’s with Carlos, my love.” Lando said defeated. “He just sent me a picture of him and Alex holding her.” He explained. She went on yelling at him about responsibility, she was so loud he put his phone on speaker, then turned the volume down. “I love you, but I’m at Williams though so I have to go get her.” He said tired of her nonsensical yelling.

“She’s not very happy.” Oscar mentioned walking to McLaren, leaving Lando at Williams hospitality. The Williams workers looked confused as Lando walked in like it was his team. His anxiety from his little girl missing was smashed by seeing her giggling in her uncles arms.

“Dada!!” She squeaked seeing him approaching. Carlos relinquished the baby to her father with a chuckle. “Uncle los!” She pointed to Carlos.

“Yeah?” Lando said with a smile. “I see uncle Carlos, sweetheart.” He nodded and she hugged his neck. “Please don’t ever do that again.” He whispered to himself sighing with relief to have her tiny arms wrapped around his neck.

“She’s a pleasure to have around.” Alex joined. Not understanding how the little girl even got into Carlos’s possession. “Why do you look so pale?” He asked Lando, who gave him a seriously mean look. Alex recoiled and walked off.

“Cabron, be glad she found me.” Carlos joked. “Liam would throw a tantrum if she found Max.” He stated, which was true. Liam wasn’t fond of anyone other than redbull employees strolling on in to their garage.

“I know, but she nearly gave me a heart attack.” Lando mentioned. He walked back to his garage and held her the rest of the evening until he had to get in the car. “If you lose her you’re dead meat.” He warned his trainer.

“Like you did?” Jon joked. The death stare he got was not worth it. Jon, in fact, did not lose the little girl. He sat in Lando’s driver room with her while they watched free practice.

Lost - Carlos pov

Carlos had went to Ferrari to wish Charles and Lewis luck during the practice. On his way back to Williams he spotted a little head with curls. He stopped and crouched down. “Los!” She squealed. Of course, McLaren and Ferrari were right next to each other. “Dada’s in there.” She explained in toddler babble. She was right near the exit of McLaren, how she got through the maze of an exit he’ll never know.

“Is he sobrina?” He asked. He picked the little girl up and went on his way to the Williams garage. He didn’t think it was too big of a deal. He showed her his helmet and Alex’s side of the garage. “This is Alex, sobrina.” He explained seeing Alex light up.

“Why hello!” He greeted her with a smile. “Sobrina? Is that her name?” He asked. The little girl giggled as Alex tickled her.

“No, it means niece in Spanish. This is Lando’s daughter.” Carlos explained. Alex had shown her his helmet and then they went on to take a picture and sent it to Lando and their girlfriends.

A few minutes later Lando was in his garage. “She nearly gave me a heart attack!” Lando explained. The little girl was returned unharmed.

Notes: ‘cabron’ means multiple things apparently, but it is used casually like dude in this fic 😳. ‘Sobrina’ means niece as Carlos mentions.

[enchanted-by-fae]

I Love You (and That’s All I Really Know) - Azriel x Reader

Pairing: Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: You were his princess, and he was just a knight. Azriel was ready to prove he's worthy of your love.

4.2k words

Warnings: Jousting (nothing graphic), fluff, slight forbidden romance, angst kinda, author knows nothing about swordplay or jousting, Az doesn’t have his shadows, Eris is a bad guy in this, low key this is just adorable.

A/N: This is my first one-shot so hopefully you guys like it! The title and the story itself were influenced by Love Story by Taylor Swift. I was also kind of inspired by the first episode of House of the Dragon and the movie A Knights Tale

Azriel knew it was wrong. You were his princess and he was just a knight. The grand tourney would be held on the morrow and Azriel was ready to win. Not just the tourney but your affections as well. He needed to prove that he was worthy of loving you. 

The knight had been in love with you for years. He was best friends with your brother, Rhysand. They grew close as brothers, training together to one day become the greatest heroes your world has seen. Alongside their other best friend, Cassian, the three were inseparable. 

Azriel still remembers the day he first met you. He was still just a squire and didn’t even know who you were at first when he saw you. All he had seen was a girl chasing a rabbit on the grounds and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what you were up to. He saw you run into the forest after it, leaving him to chase after you. He would’ve felt responsible if something had happened when he could’ve prevented it.

“Hello?” he called out, not wanting to admit he actually was quite afraid to enter the forest alone. He had rumors as a child that sprites and faeries occupied this land and he wasn’t ready to learn the truth just yet. Azriel waited at the edge of the forest for your response but he never heard one. 

“Okay Az, man up,” he spoke aloud to himself. He took the first steps into the forest, looking for a sign as to where you could've run off to. “Sprites, if you live here then I beg you to please leave me alone,” he rambled. Azriel was able to find his bravery the further into the forest he ventured. He was going to be the world's greatest knight after all. After searching for a while Azriel began to question if you even ran in this direction. “Miss? Are you there?” he called again. 

He stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings, “where did you go?”, he pondered. Most people thought Azriel hated talking, in reality he just didn’t like people brushing him off. He found that the less you talk the more people pay attention when you actually have something to say. Of course, he never was like that with Rhys or Cass. His best friends were the only people he could truly be himself around. Another time he loved talking? When he was alone. He loved talking to himself. Who better to listen to him than- well, him.

“Okay,” he sighed out, “this better not be some game. I’m starting to get freaked out.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” a soft voice said behind him. Azriels eyes practically sprung out of his head as he completely stilled, scared to death at the mystery voice.

“Oh, sorry. Did I scare you again?” a girl. It was a girl speaking. Az let out a massive sigh of relief, finally being able to breath again, and turned to face the person he’s been searching for. You were the princess. He hadn’t recognized you as such when he saw you run off.

“You’re highness,” he immediately bowed. You just stood there, giggling. Azriel couldn’t help but be annoyed at that. “I came looking for you, not wanting to see you in trouble,” he explained. 

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” you questioned.

Az thought that surely you couldn’t be serious, “well the forest is a dangerous place. It’s rumored that sprites and faeries live here.”

“Oh, well I haven’t seen any sprites. And I don’t think I’ve seen any faeries either,” you beamed. “I just came to help a rabbit friend,” Azriel thought at that moment you must be insane.

He looked at you quizzically, “a rabbit friend?”

You nodded your head, “yes- well, I mean that we’re friends now. He had a thorn stuck in his paw and the poor thing was in pain. We get along quite well now!” Azriels brows furrowed and you just giggled at him. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” you laughed. He had never heard such a lovely sound before. If he could, Azriel would only listen to your laugh forever.

“I’ve just never heard of someone having a rabbit friend before,” he reasoned. 

You just gave him a small shrug before starting the walk back to the palace. “I’m not crazy, just so you know,” you told him. Azriel just looked at you, in hopes of an explanation. “I just think that animals deserve the same respect and love as people. We did invade their homes after all.”

Azriel had never thought of it like that before but he supposed you were right. There’s something so beautiful about nature but then people came along and built palaces and villages. Taking over the land. He admired the way your brain works.

“Hey, you’re my brother's friend aren’t you?” you inquired. 

“Yeah, Rhysand and I are pretty close,” he answered. 

You looked at him with a smile, “he has good taste in friends then. Thank you for coming after me,” you gracefully inclined your head in gratitude.

Azriel offered a smile in return, “of course, princess.”

“Please, call me Y/N,” you asked him.

“Of course, Y/N,” he corrected. Just then he remembered he hadn’t told you his name, “you can call me Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you tried it out. “I like it!” you proclaimed. Now Azriel was offering you a chuckle of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn't Rhys or Cass got him to laugh. In fact, he couldn’t remember when someone who wasn’t his friends got him to talk this much. 

The two of you made your way back to the palace, chatting the entire way back. 

“Well, Azriel, I should get back to my lessons. I’m sure my tutor is having a fit,” you explained. “Thanks again for the escort,” you then started the journey to your study and Azriel just stood there watching you walk away.

“My pleasure, Y/N,” he whispered to himself. 

—

The two of you maintained a steady friendship throughout the years. You grew into a lovely young woman. Always compassionate towards your people, and you still cared a great deal for animals. You also were pretty brilliant. Azriel found himself amazed at some of the things you came up with. Your mind was one of the things he loved most about you. 

As you and he got older, he found himself falling more and more in love with you. He almost confessed it to you just a few months ago at your nameday celebration, but he chickened out at the last moment. He was just a knight. They typically didn’t marry princesses, especially bastards like him.

He did have a plan, however, to make his love for you known. The king was throwing an upcoming tourney to celebrate Rhysands marriage to Lady Feyre. The champion prize was having a wish granted by the king. He planned to ask you for a token of luck before he was to joust and when he won, that will be when he asks for your hand.

—

“Princess Y/N,” Azriel greeted as he found you roaming the gardens, guards lingering behind.

A graceful smile bloomed across your face, “Az, please just call me Y/N,”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of his own appearing, “I just like to tease you.”

“Well don't! It’s not nice to treat your princess that way,” you justified.

“You just said to not call you princess!” he exclaimed. He loved it when the two of you had these playful arguments. They made something in his stomach pleasantly twist.

You were trying to remain serious but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “you should still treat me as a princess.”

If things went his way tomorrow, he would treat you as a princess everyday for the rest of his life. He just slightly bowed his head towards you, “of course prin- Y/N.”

You gave him a playful head shake at his correction. “Are you ready for the tourney tomorrow,” you changed the subject. 

Azriel tries not to give away his plans for tomorrow regarding you. He wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Of course I am,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You turn towards Azriel, who's now walking beside you in the garden. He watches as you study his face slowly, looking for any signs of deception. Azriel has known you for a long time but you've known him for a long time too. You know all of his tells just as well as he knows yours. Yes, you were definitely onto him.

“That's great Az,” you say finally. He lets out a silent breath of relief.  “I’m sure you’ll win, the only other real competition is Cass,” you add.

Az paused, he completely forgot Cassian was jousting too. He should tell Cass of his plan to propose to you. His friend was enough of a romantic that Azriel was sure that he could get him to throw the competition. 

Cassian married Lady Nesta just a few months ago and they were disgustingly adorable. Lady Nesta was the eldest sister of Rhysands new wife, Feyre. He thought it was nice how his brothers found sisters to wed. He was even happier to have you all to himself now that Cass was out of the way. There were a few years where all Cassian could do was flirt with you. Azriel had never been more jealous in his life. He eventually snapped and let his brother in on his affections for you. His friend backed off after that.

“Oh, I’m not worried about “The Lord of Bloodshed”, or whatever he wants to call himself,” Azriel teased. Cass had started to call himself that after the first battle the three of them fought together. Az had never seen anything like it, he was almost demon-like out there. It was strange as Cassian was much different when he was with his friends.

You just giggled at Azriels teasing, “You’re not worried about perhaps the greatest knight this kingdom has ever seen, Sir Azriel?” Az couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart as you used his proper title. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, if anyone here is the greatest then it's me,” he confidently replied. Azriel didn’t miss the flush of your cheeks at the term of endearment used. 

“Then I wish you luck,” you curtseyed, “I shall see you on the morrow then?” 

Az gave you a bow and took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “you shall.” Your face flushed to deep crimson before pulling your hand back and stalking off back towards the palace

—

Azriel found Cassian in the training yard, and he wasn’t alone. He found his two best friends in an intense sword fight. Both of them were very good. Az found peace in knowing Rhysand wouldn’t be competing tomorrow, as the tourney was to celebrate his marriage. That just left him to deal with Cassian, who at that moment knocked his opponent on his ass, leaving Rhysand as the loser. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show his face at training,” Cassian called out to Azriel, helping pull Rhys back to his feet.

“Nice fight,” Azriel turned towards Rhysand, “sorry you had your ass handed to you.”

Cassian let out a chuckle, “he sure as hell did.” Rhysand was not amused, scowling at them both. “Oh wipe that face off, Rhys. You’re probably just tired,” Cass smirked, “Feyre wearing you out?”

Rhysand just looked at Cassian with a devilish grin, “something like that.” 

Azriel just stood there, laughing at his friends. “Cassian, could I speak with you about something?” he asked. Cassian just looked at him with a quizzical brow.

“Why do you just need to speak to Cass?” Rhysand questioned, “I am your prince, after all.” Azriel was starting to ponder if pulling rank was a family trait. 

Azriel never actually told Rhysand about his love for you. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable but he supposed it would be nice to have both his best friends backing him up tomorrow. 

Azriel took a deep inhale before speaking, “I’m going to wish for Y/N’s hand in marriage when I win tomorrow.”

Rhysand and Cassian dropped their swords simultaneously, staring at Azriel.

“You- wait my sister?”

“Finally!” The two exclaimed at once. Cassian wrapped his arms around Azriel, “you have my congratulations, brother,” he beamed.

“You knew about this?” Rhysand questioned Cass. 

Cassian let out a sigh as he backed away from embracing Azriel. “yes, Rhys. I knew,” his response laced with guilt.

Rhysands confusion grew deeper and deeper. The only thing holding Azriel together was that he didn’t seem angry. “How- how long have you been in love with my sister?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shit his eyes, breathed, and reopened them, “since the day I met her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rhysand seemed more hurt than the fact his best friend was in love with his sister. 

Azriel felt guilt coursing through him, “I didn’t know how you’d react. I thought you’d be angry,” he confessed.

Rhysand just blew out a sigh, “Why would I be angry?” It was now Azriels turn for confusion. “I honestly couldn’t think of a man more deserving than you to marry her,” Rhys informed.

“You truly mean that?” Az couldn’t contain the small grin he had.

Rhysand nodded, “of course,” he walked over and clapped Azriel on the shoulder, “she’d be lucky to have you. And you’d be lucky to have her.”

“Does this mean I have your blessing then?” Azriel queried.

Rhysand gave him a wide grin, “of course, although it’s not mine you need. How do you plan to convince the king?”

“I have a plan,” Azriel told his brothers before bringing his attention back to Cassian, “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Cassian responded. Azriel informed his brothers of just how he’ll gain your fathers approval.

—

Azriel was set to fight his first match against a knight he had never heard of until before today, he was good. Not as good as Azriel, however. Azriel beat opponent after opponent, the crowd cheering his name. He loved the rush of the sport but if he was being honest with himself, he only cared if you were cheering his name. Which you were.

Azriel picked out your voice instantly, as it was the loudest. He looked at the royal box where you were seated on the left of your father, Nesta on your other side. When you weren’t cheering for Az, you were conversing with the lady. Azriel thought it was sweet how well you got along with her and Feyre. The latter of whom was seated next to Rhysand, on the opposite side of your father.

Soon Azriel found himself going against Cassian. During the conversation they had the day prior, his friend had agreed to lose. He felt bad asking it of Cass, but Azriel needed to win. 

Azriel saddled himself on his horse once more and did a quick canter around the arena. He stopped just below the royal box.

“Princess Y/N” he called, using your formal title considering how public you currently were. His heart skipped a beat as you appeared before him.

“Yes, Sir Azriel?” you questioned, a mischievous smile gracing your face.

“Might I have a token? For luck,” he raised his lance high enough for you to bestow your favor. You nodded your head before you darted off to your seat to grab your gift.

“For you, good sir,” you came back with an intricately weaved wreath of flowers, placing it down on his lance. You leaned over the balcony just enough for Az to hear, “Win my heart, Sir Azriel.” You smiled at his dazed expression before returning to your spot besides the king. 

Azriel just sat there on his horse, amazed at what you had just said. He finally snapped back into reality and rode back to his starting position. He was ready to win your heart. 

—

Azriel was at his end of the fence, waiting for the signal to face off against Cassian. You were so close. Finally, Cassian emerged from his end of the barrier. Azriel looked towards his friend and noticed that he was riding a different horse. Then he noticed that the suit of armor was not the one Cass wore. And the killing blow was when the knight took off his helmet and revealed the face of Sir Eris.

Azriel called for a time out before the joust could begin, needing to check what happened with Cassian. He took off on his horse towards the opposite end in search of answers.

He arrived towards his new opponent, “Sir Eris, what has happened to Cassian?”

Eris let out a scoff, “you mean that idiot?”

Azriel glared at him, “yes, him.”

“Oh, well you see,” Eris began, “he lost.”

That wasn’t right. Cassian doesn’t lose. Especially to fools like Eris. Azriel never liked him. He was always full of himself. Thinking he was better all because he was to be the king of his own kingdom someday. Rhysand was in line for his own throne, and his friend still maintained humility.

“I doubt that is the truth of the matter,” Azriel defended. He hadn’t seen every tournament today, he was busy competing on his own as there were multiple tournaments being held. It was all meant to lead up to this, the grand finale. Azriel hoped that Eris was just making a show of himself, rather than telling the truth.

“Oh but it is,” Eris smirked, “I knocked him down myself. See for yourself.” Azriel followed to where Eris’ line of sight went, the royal box. 

There he sat, next to his wife. Cassian was hanging his head in his hands, upset by the defeat and that he wouldn’t be able to help his brother any longer. Nesta rubbed comforting circles on his back and you moved to sit at his feet in hopes of cheering him. 

“I wish you luck, Sir Azriel,” Eris mockingly bowed his head before placing his helmet back on.

Azriel galloped back to his end of the arena. He took a few deep breaths, thinking everything through. He knew he could take down Eris, but it would’ve been helpful if he had the guaranteed win he had with Cassian. If he lost, he’d never be able to marry you. He had to clear all the negativity from his mind. He would win. He could do this. Azriel would do as you told him and win your heart. 

The signal went off for the grand finale to begin. Eris galloped down first, charging with might. Azriel followed almost instantly, securing his helmet. Focus. He needed to focus. Azriel, with direct precision, aimed for Eris’s shoulder. It would earn him a few points if the blow landed. 

It didn’t. The blow just missed Eris and instead one landed on Azrael's shoulder. One point for Eris.

Their squires handed each of them a new lance, set to begin round two. They began their gallops down again. Eris landed another blow on Az on his shoulder. Eris now had two points on Azriel.

The third round would be the last if Eris landed another blow. The first to three points wins so that meant Azriel had to get at least one point, in hopes of continuing longer with a chance of a comeback. He had another option as well. If he knocked Eris from his horse then he would automatically be declared as the winner. 

Az blew out a breath, “okay, I can do this. Just knock Eris on his ass,” Azriel rambled to himself. He never could break the habit. “Easy enough,” he confidently whispered.

Azriels squire handed him his final lance, desperate to get this over with and to make you his at last. The two nights began their descents towards each other, lances ready to deliver their final blows. 

This time Azriel aimed further in, closer to Eris’ chest. He galloped and galloped. He had something to fight for. Someone to fight for. You. All he could think of was just how lovely you are and how he so desperately wanted to you to be in his arms.

Azriel landed his blow. Eris missed. He missed and was immediately knocked off his horse. He had done it. Azriel won. He removed his helmet and let out a laugh. Not because it was funny, but because he gets his wish and Eris gets nothing.

Azriel trotted over towards the royal box, ready to face your father. He got off his horse smoothly and there you were, looking at him in a way he had always hoped you would.

“Sir Azriel,” the king started, rising from his seat, “it seems as though congratulations are in order.”

Azriel kneeled before his king, “thank you, your majesty. The honor was mine.”

“You do understand what you receive for your victory, yes?” the king asked. 

“Yes, one wish granted,” Azriel nodded breathlessly. He could hardly contain his nervous excitement. 

The king took a moment, “that is correct.” The king began walking towards Azriel until there wasn’t much space left between them. “Stand,” he ordered. Azriel did as he said, rising to meet his king's eyes. “What is it you would wish for?” he asked.

“I would like to ask for the hand of Princess Y/N,” he nervously asked. Azriel took a fleeting glance towards you, making eye contact. He wanted to spend forever looking into your eyes. Azriel lost his nerves completely, knowing you were looking at him with such admiration. 

“I wish to make her my bride. I wish to make her happy for the rest of her life. I wish to love her, and to hold her. I wish for Y/N, my king” Azriel requested in his most authoritative voice. 

The king's face was one of indifference, “are you not a bastard?”

Azriel won the tourney. His birth status should not matter anymore. He was tired of the obstacles in his way. He felt his temper bubble to the surface. That was when Az felt a gentle hand place itself on his forearm. He looked to his side, and there you were.

“Father, the rules stated the winner would have any wish granted to them,” you came to his defense. 

“Yes but, Y/N, he’s a bastard,” the king justified.

“I love him, as he loves me,” you proclaimed. Azriel had no idea that you truly returned his feelings. Of course he suspected, that was why he had done all of this after all. Hearing it from you made his chest thunder with excitement. You loved him. 

The king looked between the two of you, “you truly love him?” he asked his daughter.

“Yes father, I do. Please grant him this wish,” you began to plead. 

Your father looked towards Azriel now, “you truly love her?” he asked Azriel, repeating the same question he had for you.

“I do,” Azriel said without a second thought. “I love her and wish to make her my wife,” he continued, looking down towards you. 

You felt his gaze upon you and turned to make eye contact with him, giving him a smile he had never seen you wear before but he somehow loved this one the most. “Please, father” you begged once more.

The king examined Azriel once more, then brought his gaze to you. “Very well, the two of you shall be married,” he declared loud enough for most of the arena to hear. Soon enough applause and cheers filled the open space, the crowd rejoicing in the news. 

With that the tourney came to a close, the king and his royal guard taking their leave. Azriel spared a quick glance to his friends as they left with Feyre and Nesta, presumably to give him a moment alone with his fiancée. He loved that he could call you that now. And soon, you'd be his wife.

When everyone in the royal box left and the two of you were as close to being alone as possible, he went to gently take your face into his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you love me?” he asked you.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me you love me?” you retorted. 

Azriel let out a chuckle, “you have me there, princess.”

“I’m sorry I never told you. Truthfully,” you removed his hands from your face, pulling them close to your chest, “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

Azriels eyes bulged, “you- you have?” You just gave him a shy nod in response. “In the name of honesty,” he breathed out a laugh. He couldn’t believe you loved him just as long as he did you. “I’ve loved you since that very day as well,” he confessed.

You giggled, “we’ve both been rather foolish, haven’t we?”

“Yes, my love, I’m afraid we have,” he giggled with you. Azriel wasn’t planning on wasting one more second. He removed one hand from yours, taking it to place back on your cheek. His thumb softly stroked the skin there. He leaned down, hovering just above your lips. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed out.

“I love you, Az,” you whispered back just before he closed the distance. Finally, after years of waiting, he sealed your lips with a kiss. He had won your heart just as you had won his.

—

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little while now so I'm very happy I finally got around to writing it! You are all so amazing, I really appreciate all of your support 🥰❤️

[jellyfishline]

Maybe for some people having a "designated worry time" works to protect their mental health, but it definitely doesn't work for me. The alternative that does work for me, as a frequent and chronic worrier (and is also an alternative to a 24/7 self care bubble) goes like this:

1. Limit exposure to news stories. I do not need to be given real time updates on every single thing that happens. Half the time a story is no longer relevant by the time it reaches me anyway, and it isn’t always something actionable (more on this later.) I am not going to let myself get fatigued when that's what fascism wants. I let myself fully disconnect from political thoughts, fears, and current events to do Other Things and it is invaluable for preserving my mental state--and I don't encourage myself to ruminate on feelings of guilt about doing so. Preserving joy is desperately important in difficult times, and there is no shame in doing so.

2. I don't engage with anything that makes me feel hopeless. Posts, blogs, people, conversation topics. Hopelessness and despair are to be avoided at all costs.

2.a. If I encounter something that makes me feel hopeless, I challenge the thought. So that executive order is horrifying--that doesn't mean it's enforceable, that it won't be overturned in court, that it won't be overturned by a future administration, etc. So a public figure said something terrifying--well, there are a lot of other public figures speaking out about how wrong and dangerous and inappropriate it was. Just because someone says they are going to do something awful does not mean they will succeed at doing it. Actions of resistance are everywhere, even if you can't always see them. Any horrible thing that hasn't happened yet is only one of a number of possible futures, not an inevitable prophecy of misery to come. Fascism wants you to feel like their ideals and actions are inevitable, but nothing is inevitable here.

3. I made a pact in November that for the next four years I would only actively engage with news stories that contain:

A. Something actionable I can actually do about it

B. Something positive that is being done about it

Honestly? It's served me extremely well as a rule of thumb. I try not to, in particular, reblog or spread anything that doesn't fall into at least one of those two categories, and in general conversation I always try to end things on at least one of those two notes.

When dealing with current events, your choice is not between "bury your head completely in the sand" or "worry yourself into a panic attack." There are a lot of strategies you can employ to keep yourself informed without letting yourself catastrophize.

And also? If putting yourself into a self-care bubble and disconnecting from current events entirely, indefinitely, is what you need to do because the alternative is an actual mental breakdown? Then you can put yourself into a self care bubble. If it's a choice between "staying informed" and "staying alive," please stay alive. Your life is so much more important than keeping on top of current events.

Not an invitation to cocoon yourself in a self-care bubble for four years, but a reminder to the 24/7 worriers that you can literally write "To Do on Monday: Worry about ________" on a post-it note and stop worrying about it for one day while you recharge.

[chuulyssa]

there’s glitter on the floor after the party !

teaser it’s your birthday tonight, but do they remember, or care? pair gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna x reader cw angst, just pure torture™, not proofread !

a/n it’s my birthday on 28th wooohoooo ! i wanted to be a sad girl tho *lana intensifies* let’s hope my parents take some notes and NOT do this

GOJO

for someone who liked cakes, sweets and celebrations so much, you didn’t think it would take this long for satoru to realize what day it was. you didn’t want to remind him either; he should remember it on his own, shouldn’t he? moreover, you had hated the look on his face when you reminded him of the anniversary date the two of you had planned together. he had panicked so hard and begun checking his notes and calendars, it was a pathetic sight, honestly.

“what?” his face had fallen immediately.

“don’t you remember?”

“uh, sweets, what exactly am i supposed to remember?” he had said.

he was just busy. but you had agreed upon this when you began dating him. not everyone was the strongest sorcerer in the world, not everyone had the number of things to do that he did.

“no, it’s fine.”

“you sure?” he had asked.

“yeah, it’s nothing, really.”

but you were quite sure he hadn’t forgotten. not this time. because you had checked in on his calendar a week before this, and today was marked rightly “her birthday” with a shit ton of emojis. so what was taking so long? maybe he was planning a surprise party? whatever it was, you didn’t think the prank needed to be dragged on for so long. since he remembered it, he ought to come out and celebrate already. and if he didn’t, well, whatever. you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when you saw that the party he kept was for someone else, some other girl, no

NANAMI

you’d been waiting for hours at this point. and it was nanami, the kento nanami. kento was never late, how could he be? if there was something he always relied on it was his ability to tell the time, whether it was his refusal to work overtime or his arrival on your dates before you.

so where was he now? he had hurried off in the morning before you had gotten a word out.

“i’m terribly sorry, sweetheart, i have to leave early today,” he had planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“okay, okay,” you had blinked in confusion at his hurry. “where are you going though?”

“i have decided something.”

“decided what?”

he’d sighed cryptically. what was he hiding?

“it’s best if you didn’t know.”

“excuse me?”

he’d shaken his head and just… left? he hadn’t even wished you, not the night before, not the morning after. and just what had he decided? you were hurt, of course you were. where was he going in such a hurry? you had felt he had been growing distant from you for long now. but it did not make the pain of being left alone on your fucking birthday any better. but what could you do either way now? you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when you saw that he had returned to his sorcerer status, and completely abandoned all the plans the two of you had made for your future, no

GETO

he was too in love with his cult to notice, of course he was. suguru dumbass geto. of course it was his cult’s birthday today, who were you even? when he had first told you, to prevent yourself from crashing the fuck out, you had tried to shut up.

“oh.”

“yeah, so are you joining us tonight?” he had asked, as if he was bestowing an honour upon you by inviting you to his stupid party.

“i didn’t know you kept birthdays for your cult, haha,” please get the hint, you had prayed.

“we do, yes. you will join us tonight, hm? i want to take you there as my date.”

“oh, no, no i don’t think i will, actually.”

“huh, why not? you had been looking forward to this day for a long time, hadn’t you?”

yeah, you had. obviously you had. but when you were jumping around two weeks ago talking excitedly about a ‘birthday’, you did not mean it to be his cult’s day. was that too hard to notice? but all was okay, of course. ‘how could you ruin such a long relationship over a forgotten birthday?’ you were sure that’s what the older women of the cult would talk about if they knew. and besides, you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when he had decided to take another woman as his date for the event, showing that you were completely replaceable to him, no

TOJI

he had a mission planned out conveniently at midnight, just when the clock would strike 12 and you’d be a year older. but what could you say? it wasn’t as if it was in his control when someone wanted a person to die or not, he was just the man doing the job.

so you had let it go. one hour, two hours, twelve hours, eighteen hours, where the fuck was he?

“hey, sorry ma,” there was loud cheering from his side of the phone.

“where are you?”

“got this race i wanted to bet on actually—”

“shut up, no seriously, shut the fuck up, toji—”

“what? are you okay?”

“no i’m not, what the fuck—”

there was another cheer of celebration from his side. then silence.

“calm d—”

you hung up. 6pm and he was nowhere. you were sure even if he didn’t pick your call up that time. after this, he would go out drinking with shiu all night long, then come back home drunk and wobbling around, mumbling the tune to ‘happy birthday’ if he realized what day it was, and even then, you thought, you were being too optimistic with that last part. but he was an assassin, and you knew that. didn’t he deserve some happiness in life too? and you, you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when everyone tried to remind him of the day but he was too far gone to know, no

SUKUNA

what did you expect? your chamber to be full of decorations? the dining room to be laid with the most beautiful gifts ever? the corridors to be filled with balloons? though none of that was here, the mere mental image of sukuna blowing up balloons and trying not to pop them with his nails was funny.

funny. everything that could make your mind get off right now was funny. blowing the fire of your candelabrum out, leaving behind just smoke and discomfort. funny. pretending the dinner you had been served for the night was your highly expensive banquet designed just for tonight. funny. acting as if sukuna was right by your side, giggling, as if he didn’t always behave like human traditions meant nothing to him. funny.

“it’s my birthday, you know.”

“birthday? alright. what of it?”

“uh, birthday birthday? shouldn’t you be celebrating it?”

“what is there to celebrate? it is merely a day, no?” he had said it so simply that it made you backtrack.

“yes but—”

“and besides, you are only growing older. it would’ve been remarkable and truly something to celebrate if you had been growing younger by the days,” he chuckled, turning away from you to make his way to the council.

you laughed. funny. he was right though, wasn’t he? you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when he knew, he knew and he could not care less, showing his disdain for it too, no

of course, of course you had many other birthdays, many other years yet to come.

but not when it came at the expense of your self-respect, and you had to make a choice between loving and loving yourself, no

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 20 - sweet time erasing you

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, angst, i recommend listening to sad beautiful tragic while reading this...

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the girls all arrived to your place as fast as they could, finding you in a state.

"oh my god" kie said, taking you in. all the girls did nothing but hold you as you fell to the floor, heartbreaking sobs escaping you.

sarah pulled you into her arms as you completely broke down. kie and cleo followed, wrapping themselves around you like they could physically hold you together while your entire world was shattering.

“it’s okay,” sarah whispered, even though it wasn’t. “we’re here. we’ve got you.”

but nothing felt okay. nothing felt real.

your chest ached like someone had physically torn it open, leaving you raw and exposed. sobs racked your body, each one more painful than the last, and no matter how tightly the girls held you, it didn’t stop the emptiness from swallowing you whole.

“i—” you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, another choked cry escaping instead.

“i know, y/n,” kie murmured, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “i know.”

but she didn’t. none of them did.

“i can’t-” shaking your head. “i can’t do this. it hurts. it hurts so much.”

sarah tightened her hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i know, honey. i know it does.”

this wasn’t just heartbreak, this was losing him, losing everything.

"i don't know what to do." you cried.

"there's nothing you can do." cleo said, wiping your tears.

"i have no right to be upset, i broke up with him." you mumbled.

"you have every right to be upset." kie started, "this is raw, this is painful. you're going through heartbreak. allow yourself to feel this."

you swallowed hard, your breath still coming out in uneven gasps. "but what if he never loved me?" the words felt like glass in your throat, cutting you open on the way out.

sarah pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowed, eyes filled with something close to anger. "don’t do that to yourself, y/n. you know he loved you."

"did he?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "because it sure as hell didn’t take him long to replace me."

kie let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "that doesn’t mean what you two had wasn’t real. but you were the one who walked away. he was always going to do something reckless after that."

you wiped at your swollen eyes. "well, congrats to him. he fucking won. he destroyed me."

sarah cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. "no. you ended it because you knew you deserved better. and that’s the strongest thing you could have done."

kie squeezed your hand. “ heartbreak is messy. it doesn’t make sense. it tricks you into thinking you need someone who hurt you. but you don’t, y/n. you don’t need him.”

but you did. at least, that’s what it felt like.

rafe had been your everything. your home in a new city, your comfort, your person.

and now?

now, he was just someone kissing another girl on your phone screen.

fresh tears welled up in your eyes as you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself like you could physically hold in all the pain. “i hate him,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, not believing yourself.

because no matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. you hated how easily he seemed to let go. you hated that he got to be the one moving on while you were stuck here, picking up the pieces of something that had already shattered.

sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “you don’t have to be okay right now. but one day, you will be. and when that day comes, you’re gonna realise that you deserve so much more."

maybe one day, you’d believe that, but not today. not yet.

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a/n: i am very sorry about this one

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