#my mans life was falling apart he was finding things out that changed everything

[mandjardin]

and happy one year to the line ‘i dont care how bloody handsome you are’ steven really had no reason whatsoever to say that and yet thankfully he did, making it canon that he thinks marc is hot stuff

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

[lillithsalvatore]

million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

[coco-loco-nut]

loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist part two

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

part two

[levisjinchuriki]

open arms

summary - after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you, you run to nanami for comfort. he welcomes you with open arms, but there's only one problem - you're pregnant.

warning - angst, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, crying, nanami comforting you, pregnant reader

a/n - this is the first chapter of my new series. i hope you enjoy!!

you’ve always imagined the day you'd find out you were pregnant would be one of pure joy—a moment filled with excitement and maybe even happy tears. you picture yourself holding the test in disbelief, then planning the perfect way to surprise your boyfriend with the news. it’s supposed to be magical, a moment that changes everything for the better.

but when you see the positive result, your world doesn’t fill with joy. instead, it crumbles.

the bright lines on the test feel like they mock you, a cruel contrast to the reality you’re living in. the excitement you expected never comes, replaced by a heavy knot of dread in your stomach. the moment that should have been filled with happiness turns into a nightmare.

everything falls apart before you can share the news. your boyfriend, someone you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, cheated on you.

it echoes in your mind, a brutal reminder of the reality you never thought you'd face. the betrayal stings so deeply, it feels like a physical wound—sharp, raw, and relentless. it’s not just the fact that he was unfaithful; it’s that you trusted him with everything, believed in him, and now, in the most vulnerable moment of your life, he’s torn you apart.

shock hits first. it wraps around you, numbing your senses, making it hard to process what’s happened. you feel frozen, suspended in disbelief, as if the truth hasn’t fully settled in yet. this can’t be real. he couldn’t have done this to you— not when you’re carrying his child. the weight of that thought crashes down on you, amplifying the pain until it becomes unbearable.

you never imagined he was capable of hurting you like this. you had always seen him as your partner, someone who would stand by you no matter what. but now, it’s clear that the future you thought you were building together has been ripped away. and the worst part? you didn’t just lose him—you lost the man you believed he was. the man you thought would be excited to hear about your pregnancy, who you thought would want to build a family with you.

now, the idea of facing him, of trying to confront the truth, feels impossible. how do you even begin to talk about the future when everything you trusted has crumbled? how do you tell him about the baby now that he's shattered your heart?

you can’t. the thought of looking him in the eye and seeing the face of the man who betrayed you makes you sick to your stomach. the pain is too fresh, too raw. you feel trapped in the chaos of your emotions, unsure of how to navigate the storm that’s taken over your life.

so, you do the only thing you can think of. you leave.

with trembling hands, you gather your things—clothes, phone, keys… everything you can fit into your bags. your mind races as you move through the apartment, each step heavy with the weight of what you’re leaving behind. the home that once felt warm and safe now feels suffocating, every corner tainted by his lies.

you can’t breathe in this space anymore, not with the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. so, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you pack a bag. you need distance, space to think, to process everything that’s crumbled around you. one person comes to mind as you shove the last of your belongings into your bag—nanami.

he’s always been there for you, a steady anchor in the chaos of your life. reliable, calm, and kind. someone who never judged, never hesitated to offer a listening ear when you needed to vent or cry or simply talk through your feelings. nanami is the one person you can trust completely, the only one who might be able to help you make sense of the whirlwind in your mind.

you don’t know what you’ll say to him, or even if you’ll be able to speak when you see him. but you know you need to go to him. he’s always been a grounding presence, and right now, that’s exactly what you need.

as you step outside your apartment, the night air hits you, cool and crisp against your tear-stained face. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. you aren’t sure how nanami will react when he sees you, but there’s a small part of you that knows he’ll understand, that he’ll be there, just like he always has been.

when you arrive at nanami’s place, your heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst. you hadn’t even told him you were coming—hadn’t thought that far ahead, really. all you knew was that you needed to see him, needed someone to help you breathe through the pain. 

you raise your hand and knock on the door. the sound feels deafening in the silence, and every second you wait feels like an eternity. each passing moment feels like it stretches on forever, amplifying your fear that maybe you’ve made a mistake, that maybe you should’ve prepared something to say or that he might not be there at all.

but after what feels like ages, you hear the lock turn. as the door opens, you catch a glimpse of nanami’s face—he stands in the doorway with that familiar, calm presence. his eyes instantly shift from neutral to concerned as he takes in the sight of you standing there, tear-streaked and fragile.

“y/n” he says softly, voice is gentle. his brow furrows, and without a second thought, he steps forward. “what’s wrong? what happened?”. 

without a word, you collapse into his arms, the floodgates finally breaking as the tears you’d been holding back spill over. the weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the overwhelming uncertainty—comes crashing down all at once. nanami’s arms wrap around you, strong and reassuring, pulling you close as you bury your face in his chest. his embrace feels safe, a refuge from the storm inside you.

without a word, he guides you inside, gently closing the door behind you. he doesn’t press for details, just simply holds you, silently offering you the space to release all the pain and frustration that’s been building inside. his hand gently rubs your back in soothing circles, a steady, calming rhythm that lets you know he’s there for you, no matter what.

the tears seem endless, each sob pulling you deeper into the grief of what you’ve lost, what’s been broken beyond repair. but nanami never shifts away. he stays with you through the waves of emotions. 

as the sobs begin to subside, your body feels exhausted from the outpour of emotions. you pull back slightly, your hands trembling as you wipe at your swollen eyes, trying to catch your breath. nanami looks at you with nothing but kindness and concern, his gaze never wavering. 

the familiar warmth of his apartment is comforting, a sharp contrast to the coldness of the world you’ve just left behind. he leads you to the couch, and after a few moments of silence, he speaks softly.

“what did he do?” nanami asks softly, breaking the silence. his voice is filled with quiet concern. you can feel the tension in the question —an unspoken protectiveness that nanami always seems to carry when it comes to you. his gaze remains locked on you, watching your every movement.

you hesitate, the words heavy on your tongue. saying it out loud will make it real, and part of you is still clinging to the hope that maybe it isn’t. but the look in nanami’s eyes is patient and kind, and somehow you know he can handle whatever you’re about to say.

“he… cheated on me” you whisper, the words tasting bitter as they leave your mouth. your voice cracks, and tears well up in your eyes again, but you don’t turn away. nanami’s expression hardens for a moment—his jaw tightens, and his brow furrows in silent anger. he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself before responding.

“i’m sorry” his voice filled with quiet empathy. the simplicity of his words cuts through you. there’s no judgment, no questioning of how or why. just a soft acknowledgment of the pain you’re in.

nanami has never been the biggest fan of your—now ex—boyfriend, but he’s always been respectful and supportive of your choices. you remember the few times he voiced subtle concerns, but he never once forced his opinions onto you. he’s always been like that, putting your feelings first, offering quiet advice but trusting you to navigate your own life. even now, as you sit together, you can sense the flicker of frustration beneath his calm exterior, the way his jaw tightens at the mention of your ex. but nanami’s respect for you remains at the forefront. 

“you’ve always deserved better than him” he finally says, voice low but firm. but there’s no malice, just quiet truth. 

you glance up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. his eyes are filled with quiet conviction, and you can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface—not at you, but at the man who shattered your trust.

“i should have listened to you” you admit, the tears threatening to fall again. “you were always so careful with what you said, but i could tell…”.

nanami sighs softly. “i didn’t want to influence your decisions. i know you cared about him.” he pauses, searching for the right words. “but that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself for his actions. you loved him, and that’s not something to regret”.

the room falls quiet, the weight of his words settling between you. there’s no rush for you to speak, no pressure for you to explain any more than you’re ready to. nanami doesn’t need you to. his presence alone is enough to tell you that whatever comes next, you won’t have to face it alone.

“i don’t know what to do now” you confess, the words barely more than a whisper. it feels like your world has been flipped upside down, and the future you thought you had planned is now a fog of uncertainty.

“you don’t have to figure it all out right now” he says quietly. “take it one step at a time. and if you need someone, i’ll be here”. there’s something in the way he says it, in the quiet promise behind those words, that makes the ache in your chest grow.

you shake your head, fresh tears welling up in your eyes as the enormity of it all crashes down on you again. “no… nanami. i-”.

the words catch in your throat, your mind racing as you hesitate to tell him the truth, unsure of how he’ll react. the weight of the secret presses heavily on your chest. part of you wants to get it out, to confide in him because nanami has always been the one person you could trust, but this feels different. bigger. more complicated.

he watches you closely, sensing your hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly. “you can tell me. whatever it is” he encourages softly. you shake your head.

“i’m pregnant” you blurt out. the moment the words hang in the air, the weight of it seems to multiply. nanami’s expression doesn’t change immediately. your heart hammers in your chest as you search his face, terrified of what he might say, of how he might react. you hadn’t planned on telling him—hadn’t planned on telling anyone so soon—but now it’s out there, and there’s no taking it back.

there’s a beat of silence, and it feels like the air in the room shifts. as you wait for his reaction, a mix of fear and uncertainty tightening your stomach. what if this changes everything? what if he thinks differently of you now?

nanami's brows knit together, concern deepening in his gaze, but it’s not the kind of panic or shock you were dreading. he’s silent for a moment and you can see the wheels turning behind his calm exterior. he takes a deep breath, processing the weight of what you’ve just shared.

nanami nods slowly, his eyes darkening with emotion as he absorbs the full gravity of your situation. you wonder if you’ve just burdened him with too much, if it was fair to drop this on him. 

“does he know?” nanami asks quietly, his voice laced with concern, but not for the man who betrayed you. his focus is entirely on you, on how you’re feeling, on what you need right now.

you shake your head. “i didn’t get a chance to tell him… before i found out about… everything”. the silence that follows feels heavy, but not uncomfortable. nanami doesn’t rush to fill it, or react with shock or panic like you feared. instead, he sits there, absorbing it all, his gaze never leaving yours. he’s processing.

finally, he speaks, his voice soft and measured. 

"you did the right thing by leaving" nanami says firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "you don’t owe him anything, especially not after what he did. your priority now is taking care of yourself and your baby".

your brows furrow. "but how?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "i can’t do this alone, nanami”. your confession hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable. it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud—how truly terrified you are. the future feels like an impossible mountain to climb, and you don’t even know where to begin.

nanami’s gaze softens as he watches the fear ripple across your face. “you’re not alone” he says, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “we’ll take it one step at a time together… if you want”.

his words hang in the air, and for a moment, you're stunned into silence. you blink, trying to process what he just said. his offer is staggering, something you hadn’t expected. you know nanami is always there for you, always supportive, but this feels like more than you could have ever asked for.

“i can’t ask you to do that” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

nanami’s expression remains steady, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “you’re not asking” he says. “i’m offering”. his words are assertive, but true. the fact that he’s willing to stand by you, to support you through this painful time, makes the path ahead seem a bit more manageable.

“you… you’re serious?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. your mind races, a mix of disbelief and cautious hope swirling together. nanami’s expression doesn’t waver. his steady gaze meets yours, full of quiet determination. 

“of course i’m serious” he says softly, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed. “i wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t”. you search his face for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. he’s genuine, his offer coming from a place of deep care. the realization makes your chest tighten with emotion.

you look up at him, feeling the tears welling up again, but this time they’re different. there’s something in his words, in the way he looks at you with such steady resolve, that lifts some of the weight off your shoulders. he’s not just saying it—he means it. 

“this is too much, nanami… i don’t even know what’s coming next” you admit, your voice shaky as you try to hold back the fresh wave of tears. “i don’t want to be a burden”.

he frowns. “you’re not a burden” he says, his tone firm but gentle. “you’re important to me. and i want to help you because i care about you”. nanami’s presence, his unshakeable support, is something you hadn’t realized how much you needed until now. the thought of having someone so steadfast and compassionate by your side brings a small, but significant sense of hope. nanami’s offer of help, his willingness to be there for you, makes the future feel a little less daunting. 

“i don’t know what to say” your voice barely above a whisper but full of heartfelt gratitude. 

nanami gives a reassuring smile. “you don’t have to say anything. just know that i’m here for you. whatever you need, however you need it”. 

the promise in his words and the kindness in his eyes offer a fragile yet comforting sense of security. it’s a start, a small but vital lifeline, and for now, it’s enough.

“okay” you reply. a bit of the tension eases from your shoulders, the simple act of accepting his offer giving you a small measure of peace. nanami’s presence is a comforting constant, and knowing that you have someone to lean on makes the uncertainty ahead feel just a little more bearable.

you’re still overwhelmed, still scared, but you’re not alone anymore. with nanami by your side, you have a place to begin navigating the path ahead, one step at a time.

“you’ve had a long day. you should get some rest” nanami says, his voice steady but filled with quiet care.

there’s no judgment in his tone, no impatience—only concern. the enormity of the day’s events is catching up to you, and your body aches with exhaustion. you’ve been running on adrenaline, on heartbreak, but now that you’re here, safe with him, the exhaustion hits you all at once. 

nanami stands and gently guides you toward the guest room, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder—a grounding touch that keeps you tethered to the present. you don’t resist. you trust him, and right now, trusting anyone feels like a monumental feat. he walks beside you, his movements calm and deliberate, as if to assure you that there’s no rush, no urgency anymore. you don’t have to run from the pain here.

when you reach the guest room, it’s quiet, a comforting kind of quiet that lets you breathe.  the room is simple, but the calmness of it wraps around you, offering a small but much-needed relief from the storm in your head.

nanami sets the bag you packed down before making the bed for you. he smooths out the sheets with the same attention to detail he’s shown you all night—precise, thoughtful, gentle. the way he moves through the small space is unhurried, as though he understands that what you need most right now is comfort, not words. his actions speak louder than anything he could say.

once the bed is made, he turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with that same reassurance. "you can stay here as long as you want” he offers quietly, his sincerity evident in every word. the weight of his kindness, his unspoken promise to be there, nearly overwhelms you. you smile at him gratefully and thank him for everything.

nanami lingers for a moment, watching you with a careful gaze, before he steps toward the door. “i’ll be in my room if you need anything” he says, his tone soft but reassuring, like a promise that no matter how broken you feel, he’s not going anywhere.

as the door closes gently behind him, the silence of the room feels different—not empty, but safe. nanami’s presence, even though he’s no longer in the room, lingers like a protective shield. you take a slow breath, your shoulders sagging as the tension in your body begins to release. you allow yourself to collapse onto the bed, the softness of the mattress cradling you. 

the exhaustion tugs at your eyelids, and it’s not long before sleep pulls you under. nanami’s steady presence, his unwavering support, gives you a sense of hope that you’ll be able to face what’s coming. with him by your side, the impossible doesn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

[rose24207]

Can you wrote something with Mafia lando where reader was a hook up but she fell pregnant and now they have a baby together and during that time of the pregnancy Lando fell for reader but reader hear the maids talking about Lando setting up a dinner reservation for him and a date making reader sad thinking she really is just a hook up to him and the mother of his child. But once she starts distancing her seld lando finds out and tells her the dinner reservations were foe them because he was going to ask her on a date.

Tangled hearts

Summary: After a one-night affair leads to an unexpected pregnancy, Lando falls for you, but when you overhear gossip about him dating someone else, you pull away, only for him to reveal he was planning to ask you on a date all along.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, pregnancy

A/N: last one for today!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

It started as a one-night affair. You had no expectations, no illusions. Lando Norris was a Mafia boss, a man who controlled everything around him with ease. He had power, wealth, and the kind of presence that made people bow to him.

But to you, he was just a man—a man who wanted something physical and fleeting. You didn’t expect anything more. It was supposed to be a temporary escape, something to scratch an itch, nothing serious.

But life had other plans.

You found out you were pregnant not long after. A late period, a trip to the clinic, and a positive result were all it took to change everything. Panic set in, followed by a flood of confusion and uncertainty.

You hadn’t even really known him.

You hadn't planned for this.

Yet, somehow, you were now carrying his child, and you had no idea how he would react.

At first, Lando didn’t seem fazed by the news. In fact, he took it in stride. He promised you that he would take care of you, that you and the baby would never want for anything.

He was cold, calculating, the same ruthless man who ran his empire with a sharp mind and a firm grip. But slowly, things began to change.

Lando started to show up at your apartment, making sure you had everything you needed. His presence in your life became a constant. He wasn’t just checking in to make sure you were physically well, but emotionally too.

At first, you resisted the tenderness in his eyes, the way he seemed to soften when he looked at you. But it was hard not to notice, hard not to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than just the baby.

In the months that passed, you saw glimpses of the man beneath the cold Mafia exterior. He helped you pick out baby clothes, accompanied you to doctor appointments, and even took time off work just to be by your side when you felt sick.

You were confused by his behavior. Was this just a commitment to his child, or was there something more?

Then, one evening, you overheard a conversation you were never meant to hear.

The maids were talking among themselves, gossiping as they often did when they thought no one was listening. You had just entered the hallway when you caught their words.

“He’s setting up a dinner reservation,” one of the maids said. “I think he’s going on a date. With someone new, probably.”

The other maid sighed. “You know Lando. He’s always moving on to something new, someone younger, more exciting. What about the girl carrying his baby? Doesn’t he care about her?”

The first maid snorted. “Please. She’s just the mother of his child. Nothing more. When the kid is born, she’ll be out of his life. That’s how it always goes.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. You stood frozen, the weight of their words sinking deep. You had hoped that Lando’s behavior—his attention, his kindness—meant something more. But now, you weren’t so sure.

He was going to leave you.

You were just another stop on his path, a temporary fixture until he moved on.

The realization hit hard: you weren’t more than a hookup, a vessel for his child, nothing more.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you made the decision to pull away. You stopped answering his calls so quickly, distancing yourself from him, not allowing him to get too close. You didn’t want to be the fool who fell for the Mafia boss only to get discarded when he no longer had a need for you.

The pregnancy, the baby—none of it mattered to him. You were just a momentary distraction.

And that was all.

Lando noticed immediately. He wasn’t used to being ignored, and certainly not by you. The distance you were creating didn’t sit right with him, gnawing at him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He wasn’t a man accustomed to feeling this way—uncertain, confused, and downright frustrated. The more you pulled away, the more desperate he became.

Finally, he cornered you one night, his eyes sharp with a cold intensity you’d only seen in his darker moments.

“Why are you pulling away from me?” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s changed?”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your voice breaking as you faced him. “I heard what they said… about the dinner reservation. About you going on a date. I’m just the mother of your child, nothing more.”

Lando's expression faltered, something flickering behind his cold exterior. He stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected. There was a cold edge to it, but also something else—hurt. “You think I’m just going to walk away from you when this baby is born? That I don’t care about you?”

Your heart raced. “What was the reservation for, Lando? Were you planning to ask someone else out?”

He exhaled sharply, frustration clear on his face. “That dinner reservation… was for you. It was for us. I was going to ask you on a date, not someone else. I want you. I’ve been wanting you long before I found out about the baby. But I didn’t know if you wanted me too, or if you just saw me as the guy who knocked you up and nothing more.”

You were stunned, a lump forming in your throat. The confusion, the distance between you���it had all been a misunderstanding. You had thought he was moving on, but the truth was that Lando had been trying to move closer to you, trying to show you that he was in this for the long haul.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you whispered, looking down at the floor, the tears you had been holding back now spilling freely. “I thought you were just using me.”

He shook his head, his hand moving to your shoulder, pulling you toward him. “I’m not using you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. You, me, and our baby. I promise you.”

Lando’s lips met yours in a kiss, slow and gentle, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t leaving. In that moment, you felt his sincerity, his devotion, and you finally believed him.

Thank you for reading!

[lunajay33]

My Princess

•🪽🦇💙•

Summary: You are Feyres sister and have always been shy but when everything happens and you and your sisters become Fae, you find yourself falling in love with the mysterious shadow brother

Pairing: Azriel x Feyres sister

Content: Sneaking around, fluff, smut, getting caught

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about how my life would turn out, living in a run down home with my three sisters and father gave me no hope for what could come, I thought I would die young of either illness or starvation, I always tried to help Feyre when I could just to help and get away from Nesta and Elain, they never liked me much, I am I second youngest and they liked to point out every flaw of mine

But then one day everything changed when we were kidnapped and thrown into a cauldron changing out forms, from human to far, Nesta took an immense amount of power, Elain could feel the future and me, well I haven’t shown anyone what I’ve discovered, I can morphe into the shadows, dissapear whenever I want, it came in hand when Nesta would get in one of her fits with who ever dared step up to her

But then one night as I was slipping into the shadows I met the most adorable little tendrils of shadow that seemed were alive, they were all over me swirling around with what I assumed was joy as they led me to Azriel, he was quiet like me and I found comfort in that silence but never had the never to approach him until the shadows brought me right into his room, as I’m in the shadow of his book shelf

Noticing him straighten up and peer around as his shadows spoke to him

“I know you’re here” my heart leapt, I shifted back into my fae solid form and stood before him nervously

“So you are gifted after all” he stood infront of me, shirtless showing his broad shoulders and ripped body

“Ummm yeah, please don’t tell the others”

“And why not?” I shrugged unsure of why I had to explain my reasonings only making him smirk

“You’re not like your sisters, you’re…….different”

“Different bad?”

“No different good, you’re intriguing and mysterious, you don’t put everyone out there”

•

From that day forward we kept our nightly meetings between eachother and it was sooooo easy, sneaking through the shadows right to his room, we started just talking and getting to know eachother but along the way I fell for him, how could I not he’s so beautiful inside and out and one night when all the others were busy getting drunk at a bar I felt my soul meld with his and his mine

That night we accepted the bond and we haven’t been able to stop, it’s been a week and our hunger for eachother hasn’t been quenched and it’s getting harder to hide this relationship

“Do you think we should tell the others?” I ask him as we catch our breathes, my head resting in his shoulder, his hand dragging up and down my back

“If that’s what you want my angel, but I can’t say sneaking around doesn’t make things more hot” he smirks as he grips my hip

“Maybe just a little longer” I giggle as I turn and straddle his legs laying forward on his chest

“Ready for more already?” His voice got deeper sending shivers down my spine

“Are you able to” I love to tease him knowing he has taken me multiple times in one night

“Please woman” he grabs my hips and grinds them up and down his hardening dick, I’ve heard about the girls talking about the comparison between wingspans but there is absolutely no way Rhys or Cassian could be bigger than my man, he nearly splits me apart

“I love you Azriel” I moan as he slowly stretches me out

“Not as much as I love you Angel, fuck you feel so good” at this angle he was just hitting every part just right it was impossible to keep quiet

“Oh god more I want more” I scream when he thrusts up into me faster and faster

“OH AZRIEL YES RIGHT THERE” I scream not even caring right now who here’s

“So good, mother above I’ll never get enough of you” right as I’m about to be in heaven the door bursts open and everyone in the group is standing there wide eyed and mouths hanging

“Ummmm what the hell is going on” Nesta shouts anger written all over her face

Azriel sits up and holds me closer covering my body

“Can we have a moment to get decent” he groans his shadows pushing the others out and slamming the door

“I’m nervous, did you see the way Nesta and Elain were looking at me?” He pulled out and helped put his shirt on me as he pulled on his own sweatpants

“Don’t worry it’ll be fine come on!” He took my hand and led me downstairs to where everyone was sat around in the living room

“Congrats brother!” Cassian congratulated Azriel patting him on the back

“How long has this been going on?” Feyre asks with a little smile as she sat next to Rhys

“Well we’ve been talking for a while at night but then last week our mating bond happened and we accepted immediately” I say holding his hand tighter

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhys asked

“Obviously she knows she’s not good enough to be with him I mean look at her” Nesta laughed, I hung my head low before Azriel pulled me in at the waist

“Watch your mouth, don’t think I can’t destroy your life just because you’re the high ladies sister

“She’s not wrong” Elain whispered but we all heard

“That’s enough they had their reasons and it’s their relationship, Nesta and Elain you need to leave her alone I’ve had enough of you two always bashing on her just because you know she’s better than you, I’m happy for you sister” Feyre smiles

“You can go to the family cabin if you wish while still in your mating faze” Rhys adds looking happy for his brother the next instant in standing in the cabin Azriel holding me tight from behind

“You know they’re not right, your as pretty as the stars” he says placing kisses up my neck

“Thank you Az, now how about we get back to what we started”

“Don’t have to ask me twice”

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 2

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (sukuna x fem!reader)

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

It had been two years since you had seen and felt Sukuna’s naked body. Two years too long. You never realized how much you missed out on his life when your hands began to roam around his shoulders. He had gotten bigger and firmer. His body was always much larger than yours, but this was on a different level. He was an athlete, after all. Shoulders that were once just broad were now bulging with muscles. His arms almost looked like water waves, subtly flexing with every movement. He was thicker than an average man. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he could bench press you. He did once before, but now it probably would’ve been like lifting a feather.

His fingers and knuckles were rougher than the ones you were used to, probably because of all the sparring and weight training. Most of his body was now covered in harsh black tattoos. The ones beneath his eyes stood out the most because they matched Yuuji’s scars. You wanted to ask what they meant, but you kept quiet, still resenting him for never reaching out after the breakup. Unprofessional, but could you blame yourself, especially with how things have been going lately? 

Unlike you, Sukuna was surprisingly civil after learning that you would live with him. Simply nodded and gave you a brief run down of where everything was in the high-rise apartment. He didn’t even ask why you, of all people, were suddenly helping him. Uraume was surprised but didn’t press on the matter as much.

“You’ve lost weight.” You could feel the vibrations of his rich and husky voice through the washcloth that you were scrubbing across his chest. Your first task as a ‘highly involved’ manager was to give him a sponge bath after his discharge from the hospital. His shoulder was still healing from the dislocation, so he had to wear a cast. “Hope you weren’t studying too hard.”

His comments fall deaf to your ears as you wring the washcloth in the bathtub. You silently wrap him in a warm fluffy towel and mutter a simple ‘up’ so you could clean the foam surrounding the ledge he was sitting on. You could feel his red eyes burning holes into your skull as you wiped down the area. He stayed in the bathroom the entire time you cleaned up the space, almost like he was waiting for you to guide him back to his room despite being perfectly capable of walking.

You thought he was just messing with you like he did back when you were together, but no, he was just looking at all the changes in your body after not seeing you for so long. It’s not like you had social media so he could look up your appearance. 

Sukuna wanted to send a private investigator after you. Still, he knew it was unethical (also because he was afraid he’d find out if you were in a serious relationship. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if it was true).

You groaned as you stood back up, stretching to relieve the pain in your back. “Your back still hurts? I’ve told you so many times that your posture sucks while you’re studying.” His looming presence just had you more annoyed. 

“You should rest.” You subtly tried to suggest that you wanted to be left alone.

“And you should show a little respect. You work for me now.” 

“Uraume’s my boss. Not you.” You were really working up a sweat, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the humidity in the bathroom or if you were raging on the inside. What made him think he could act all holier than thou after two years of no contact? Especially after being an asshole while breaking up. It’s like you could still see that side of him when you looked into his eyes. “I’ll have dinner ready after my shower.” And with that, you left the bathroom.

-

Preparing dinner was a dull affair. Uraume told you that you need not cook for Sukuna as he had a nutritionist who had created a meal plan for him and a chef who strictly adhered to it. All you had to do was store and heat the meals after the chef delivered them. Uraume also had the courtesy of having meals cooked for you, the same as Sukuna, but yours were more indulgent (more dipping sauces and fewer veggies). You were glad your job was simpler than you expected. In this economy, free accommodation and less money spent on groceries were a blessing.

You opened the disposable box of food for Sukuna, and it had all the things required for a balanced diet. It makes sense; his management probably doesn’t want him to lose or gain too much weight while recovering. It was the basics: half an avocado for healthy fats, grilled salmon for protein, lots of veggies for fiber, and an unimaginable amount of black beans with rice. Funny, did his nutritionist not know that he disliked them? Unlike him, you never had an issue with the legume, so you took some out of his box and put them in yours. So what if he had fewer beans for dinner? The man was injured, and as much as you resented him, you weren’t going to be a monster with him.

Sukuna entered the kitchen, sans t-shirt. You didn’t bother asking him why he was half-naked because you knew his reasoning would be something about you already knowing what his bare body looked like. 

Not with all the new muscles you didn’t. But you brushed that thought aside. 

“Is that my old shirt?”

You looked down and noticed that your oversized t-shirt was indeed his. It must’ve been in the back of your closet while the movers had brought in all your stuff. You had a lot of oversized clothes, but by some miracle, you happened to wear one that belonged to your ex. Your ears felt hot with humiliation. 

“I didn’t realize it. Must’ve forgotten to throw it away.” You said while setting up your plates. “It’s fine. Keep it. Haven’t thought about that shirt since… well- whatever. Just keep it.” He almost said it. He almost talked about it out loud. It felt weird hearing about it after so long. It shouldn’t be this strange. The breakup was a mutual decision that you both made and though it was something you had done out of pure frustration and anger, it was still something you both had done together. Pretending like it never happened was just never going to work. Not when you were meant to be with him 24/7.

However, you decided to push that conversation for another day. If it’s meant to happen, then it’ll happen; there’s no point in rushing it. You slid your plate next to your former lover’s seat on the dining table, and he said nothing when he noticed that he had fewer beans than you. Thank goodness. He didn’t need to know that you were still a little soft for him despite all the prickliness of the past.

You were about to lift your fork to eat when Sukuna loudly cleared his throat. “Aren’t you gonna feed me?” he flatly asked. 

“I’m not your-” you were about to tell him off, but then you remembered that his dominant hand was in a cast. 

“- sorry.” Embarrassed once again, you picked his fork up to feed him a piece of broccoli. “Sprinkle a little salt on that,” he said while chewing, giving you quite a gross view of the ground vegetable in his mouth. You held back your grimacing for the sake of your job and did as he asked. He grinned when you placed a salted broccoli in his mouth. “Now, give me a little salmon with that.” 

“Sukuna, can you please chew with your mouth closed,” you said while cutting out a bite-sized piece of his salmon. “You still love nagging me, huh? Also, cut a bigger piece. My mouth’s bigger than yours, hon.” 

You glared at him through your lashes and swore you could almost see him smile. Not the genuine kind, but the type that made you want to slap his face. His gorgeous, chiseled face. The one that once looked at you with everlasting love. You squeezed your eyes shut to escape your stupid daydreams. 

The past is past. You’re now in front of an egotistical dumbass. Not your lovable ex.

You cut up a bigger piece of salmon and tried your best to stop yourself from shoving it into his mouth. “That’s more like it,” he mumbled (after chewing since you had so respectfully asked). 

If only you knew that Sukuna was ambidextrous because he had broken his dominant hand while sparring too many times.

-

The last task for the day was icing his bruises for a few minutes before bed. Sukuna was sitting on his bed, head facing you while you were close enough to stand between his legs. He ignored his urge to pull you into his embrace for his sanity. After preparing the ice pack, you pressed it on his purple and yellowing bruises. Uraume had told you that he refused any kind of treatment back at the hospital, so they were getting worse. 

They weren’t wrong; you could see the pain on Sukuna’s face after he had neglected his wounds for so long. He had a particularly gnarly one beneath his left pec, and you bent down to reach it properly. Your head was below his chin, and he could smell your shampoo.

Strawberries. He noted that you still hadn’t changed your shampoo. You were always a stickler for consistency. He began to feel nostalgic as he remembered that there was a time when he used to smell like the same shampoo after staying at your place. His mind drifted to when you both showered together for the first time, how you lathered the shampoo in your hand and carefully massaged it on his scalp. No masseuse or physiotherapy had ever been that relaxing for him compared to the magic in your hands. He remembered how his pillow would smell like you for hours after you’d leave his place. Now, seeing you here was getting him worked up. Would his house begin to smell like your perfume now that you were here? He wanted to set fire to all your clothes and only let you wear his if it meant that all his clothes would smell like you. Two years have gone by, and he still feels like he wants to inject you in his veins.

All while Sukuna was in his nostalgic dreamland, you were trying your best not to focus on his pebbled nipples, courtesy of the ice pack.

—

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You know, all I want is to spend some time with Nikto on his off-days and have him read Dostoyevski to me, if you don't want to make this like a single fic you can maybe incorporate it into "ravishing allure" some time later 🥹

"…and there can be no love otherwise."

PAIRINGS: Nikto x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: If anyone could make the bad days better, it was Nikto.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: Stress from work/life, lack of sleep, mostly fluff, comfort, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There were times you wondered if putting up with your job was really worth it. Sure, you needed the money to pay rent, food, and bills, among a laundry list of others that just seemed to never end, but was the cost of your sleep the metaphorical soul you had to hand over? 

Every day you came home tired to your little apartment—neighbors loud and the light in the bathroom flickering because the electrician had never shown up to fix it. Tired, but unable to fall asleep until everything else was done. So, you’d make dinner, clean, shower, sit down to mindlessly watch a show on TV for half an hour, and then stumble into bed. 

Only to stay awake and stare at the ceiling. 

You can’t say why you do it, thinking over the things you did wrong and the awkward conversations you have with coworkers; you shouldn’t care about it—really, you shouldn't. Yet you can’t stop your brain from slipping like a slide to every instance, every millisecond where you felt the air of the interaction change. Side-eyes and confused looks. 

And then at six o’clock, you’d drag yourself out of bed with bags on your face and a drained expression to do it all over again. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” 

“Oh, of course, we have some in the back—I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you! You have a good day now, Sir. Come back soon.”

It just felt fake. Greet, help, take money, wave and smile, repeat, repeat, repeat. But maybe today would be slightly different, by the second pair of shoes that were placed in your apartment entry as you slowly opened the front door. 

Boots—black and set an equal distance apart with a cleaned surface despite the places they’d been and what they’d probably stepped through. They were neatly situated under the small bench you had for convenience, and you blink at them as you softly shut the door and lock it. A large, and matching in color, jacket was folded and placed atop the flat surface—keys sitting in an indent. 

Nikto, ever the neat and tidy one. He must be back then. 

While the two of you didn’t live together, the bear of a man had made a habit of coming over when he returned from deployments with KorTac—you’d given him a key the second year you’d been together. 

Your ears faintly twitch to the sound of cooking, nose moving just a second later to the scent of something on the stove. Clinking pans and silent footsteps. He knew you were here, sure as anything. Weakly sighing, you shift out of your jacket and shoes; tossing them in the general direction of the bench as you rub at your eyes and drop your purse to the floor with a slap of canvas. 

How do you explain looking like shit? 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you undo some of the buttons on your blouse to let yourself breathe, dress pants running along the carpet as your feet pad like a hound’s slapping paws. Vision blurry and eyelids threatening to close on you, you find the tall man in front of the stove, moving something in a pan with sizzling oils with the wide flex of his shoulders.

On another burner, there’s a large pot of simmering water—the counter has already been cleaned up of flour and mess, a tidy pile of dirty items sitting in the sink to be washed. You stare for a second before you grumble a hello, forcing your body to sag into his back as you walk over and slap your forehead into his spine. 

Nikto grunts lowly in response and continues what he’s doing. 

While it wasn’t rare to find him in the kitchen—in fact, you prefer it when he cooks—but usually when he got back you opted to order supper. He always insisted, gruffly, that he wasn’t tired, but you just wanted him to relax.

It was fun to baby him. 

“Didn’t know you were going to be back today,” you whisper into him, arms hanging by your sides. 

“We were released early,” his voice is deep and harsh—a bark of his Russian accent and rasp. Every word is thought out and said with purpose. “Conflict in schedule.”

You hum lowly, and it’s immediately after that Nikto stiffens, back going straighter. It’s the fact that you don’t even notice that you’ve completely screwed up your own routine that tips him off; how your change in pace had made him initially suspicious as he’d heard you enter the apartment. 

You hadn't commented on his eyes. Hadn’t tried to get him to turn around to see them. 

There was a running gag that Nikto tolerated—you’d grab him carefully by the chin and tilt his blank eyes to you in all of their icy glory. Sparks of glass and chilled storms inlay near the pupils. You’d stare, smile, and then say, “Yup, he’s still in there.” 

Even if you couldn’t see it under his balaclava, Nikto’s lips would part and he’d study your face for a minute in silence, before lightly bonking his forehead to yours. A strange and unique kiss that only he could perfect in his intimidating way. 

You hadn’t even attempted that. 

Nikto puts down the fork he was using to push around the fried potatoes and mushrooms; Pelmeni still simmering in the pot for another five minutes. The cut-up dill and melted butter on the counter are pushed from his mind with a purpose in his veins.

“What is wrong with you?” Nikto turns and you stifle a fatigued snort as you look up at him. It wasn’t his fault, of course. English isn’t his first language, and you found his broken, or sometimes bare-bones blunt, sentences to be endearing.

“Such a way with words, hm?” You can’t help but tease, and you can see the annoyed furrow of his brown brows, nose huffing a breath. “Just tired, Nikto.” Your words make his gaze slide along the very visible bags and the red veins of your eyes. 

He mutters something in Russian under his breath, lids narrowing on you as he grasps your shoulders and moves you back so he can look you up and down slowly in a near clinical breakdown of atoms. As if he can peel back clothes and splay nerves to light. 

“You look horrible…Sickly.” You can see the brain working as your lips go into a line to stay off your loud laugh. “Like dead woman walking.”

He was so much better with actions than words, this beast of wide shoulders and shifting thighs that could crush your bones to dust in an instant. You liked that about him—you never had to guess when he was being genuine or not.

“Work’s been rough,” you chuckle lowly, sliding on a fake smile that doesn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing I can’t…figure out, okay? Thanks for making supper, I love when you cook.”

Nikto’s eyes soften just a smidge, his hands holding your flesh just the littlest bit tighter. His expansive chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh, the bulk of his stomach and pecs visible under the tucked black t-shirt and his spare cargo pants.

Without a word, you’re being lifted with little more than a huff of, “моя нежная девочка… keep awake.”

You squeak as you’re settled onto his shoulder, hanging off like a sack of grain as his arm wraps over the top of your tailbone—large other hand on your thigh and fingers firmly grasping your skin. 

“Nikto—!”

“Hush,” he grunts, a bark of a chuckle wafting out as your hand playfully hits his back with a pathetic slap. The man raises a brow, smirking under his face covering. “What do you expect to do with that, girl?” 

“To let you know,” you poke at his spine and he shifts your farther down his shoulder in retaliation as you scramble and grasp at his shirt; giggling as your head sways to his steps. “That I won't go quietly!” 

“Good to know,” he grumbles. “I would want nothing less, eh?” 

His hands make sure that you don’t fall, even if you were to start wiggling or slipping.

You go limp and let him carry you into the living room, face burning with appreciation as your limbs let themselves rest. Nikto slings you back over his shoulder and drops you to the couch as you laugh, head purposely hitting the pillow as your chest rises and falls with breaths. 

The man stares down at you as you chuckle in gasps, always one to stare at any chance he gets. His arms crossed at his chest, feet apart, and shadow slipping over you from the overhead light. You gaze up silently, a smile on your lips, and quizzically raise to your brow.

“Stay,” is what he says to you, icy vision sliding down your body with a hum of approval. He sends a teasing slap to your thigh before striding back into the kitchen, narrowly missing your leg kicking out at his arse. 

Nikto scoffs at your attempt and disappears.

Normally you’d run at him and jump on his back, hanging off like an animal, but being as fatigued as you are, you call a mumbled curse at his name and curl sideways. Your face nuzzles into the pillow, smiling lightly before you let your eyes momentarily close.

You must have taken a quick nap because it seemed not even a second later that you were being shaken awake by a hand on your arm; spreading up to run over your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Милая.” You sigh, vision blurry and your head pounding. A strong scent hits your nose and you perk—rubbing at your eyes and face. “Eat.”

A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms and another bowl of Pelmeni are on the coffee table, and the former is shoved into your face by a strong hand, the small dumplings topped with melted butter and dill. 

“Pelmeni,” Nikto states in a monotone, blinking at you as if you don’t know his own culture’s food by now. He made them often enough, which was why you liked him so much—food was truly the way to your love.

You’d taken up baking some of Nikto’s favorite desserts once, had failed horribly, and left most of the kitchen work to him—but the funny thing was that whenever you did bake, the man still always cleaned his plate. You’d never seen him turn down your food, even when you could see his eyes scrunch with restrained aversion.

“Да,” he would grunt out, “good.” It was so strained you always laughed so hard your lungs hurt after. On the off-hand, Nikto’s skills in the kitchen were enough to get you to sell your car for just another bite. 

Sitting up, you carefully take the bowl and look up at him, smiling deeply. 

“Thank you, Nik.” The man hums and turns his head away, still unused to outright affection even two years in. “Nikto~” you draw out his name, tilting your head to the side and trying to catch his gaze again. 

“Silence, woman,” he growls with no real heat, huffing before carefully placing his forehead to yours again as you expected him to. You giggle and stare into his eyes smugly. 

You knew what he was waiting for. Your blood runs hot, face going into a picture of care. His blues blink at you as snowflakes mingle with mist; a mix of cold and desolate landscapes that offer no reprieve from harm besides the small glint of fire they gain when they lock with yours. 

“Yup,” you whisper, and Nikto’s shoulders loosen as he presses more deeply into your skin. “He’s still in there.” 

He stares intensely, and the faintest of twitches under his balaclava tell you all you need to know. 

Nikto makes sure you eat your fill and when you’re done he takes the dishes and washes them while you shower and get into pajamas. Sluggish, but warmed by a full stomach and your boyfriend’s care. You come out to find he’s already reclining on the couch, book in hand as the other bends behind his neck. Lights were low and the heat turned up. Nikto opens his side to you and your body snuggles next to him—it had taken a long time to earn his trust like this; to be near him and to freely give affection.

It would be longer still until you saw his face, but you can live with that. There was no rush, and you knew it was a large soft spot even if he’d never shared the details as to why.

You sigh deeply and Nikto grunts, moving his arm behind your back and keeping you to his chest as he reads. 

This is a common sight from him, and he begins reading to you in his mother tongue from the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, the grit and gravel of his voice sliding into words and sensations as you practically feel it coming from his chest and throat. Your head situates itself under his chin, feeling his free hand playing with your hair until you go brain-dead except to the way he feels and sounds. Harsh words had never been more gentle.

Halfway through he switches to English, his sentences now more slow and thought out and your lashes flutter; breath soft as you take in his scent of oakmoss and amber. His heart beats steady and true. 

“‘To love is to suffer,’” he reads, fingers rubbing circles into your clothes and letting you sleep as the day grows faster into a cold night. He glances down with easy eyes, gripping you just a bit closer as your body entirely goes limp in his embrace. “‘...And there can be no love otherwise.’” 

He silences himself and watches for a moment before he closes the book, dropping it silently to the coffee table and staring past you at the ceiling. The man feels your warmth bleed into his scarred and damaged skin and whispers something akin to vindication.

Nikto listens to your steady breathing and holds you. Steady. Noiseless. 

He grunts to himself and only presses you closer.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[hinatiny]

crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word you say by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips. 

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

[lucilleslore]

lovesick snow really really really scratches a part of my brain that i cannot have the words that explain it and have to go the library of babel to find it. he'd be more easy to manipulate in that state, especially how vulnerable he is to you and how willing he'd do anything for you. like you said in one of your first posts, i'm in love with the idea of it of how powerful the reader is if you want to add more backstory to them.

ok so i went with your idea and gave manipulative!reader and snow the backstory they deserve for the little au we have going here!! i hope you love it <3

➸ so as a kid i see manipulative!reader as a bit of a daydreamer and what do lots of little girls dream about?? their wedding. for you though it wasn’t necessarily about the day, not even the fancy dress or the colour scheme but the person. let’s just say you’re already from quite an influential family but it’s not enough - you want more.

➸ you wanted a husband that’s powerful, motivated. he had to be important and charismatic - someone who could really get you what you wanted from life. you weren’t completely unbothered by the idea of romance though and hoped that’d you’d manage to get them utterly devoted to you, willing to do anything to protect you and make you happy. it’s not a hard thing to ask for, right?

➸ you’d always been aware of coriolanus snow but there always seemed to be better candidates for your attention. then he comes back to the capitol and you can sense the change in him - the unhinged, power hungry aura that seemed to surround him and as he quickly started making a new name for himself, you thought he could be the one.

➸ coryo would never be an easy person to get close to however. so you had to subtly start placing yourself in his life. it was a slow process but you were diligent. ‘bumping’ into him just outside his apartment, having the same social calendar as him, even showing an interest in the games so someone would set up an appointment between the two of you to discuss.

➸ then there was one moment. one that not even you - seemingly the mastermind of your own life - had planned out. it was raining that day, pouring and you were alone rushing back to your apartment. you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and when you stepped out onto the road you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of screeching tires or horns. or for the strong grip that wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

➸ coryo was there just as drenched as you were but with a kind of frenzied, panicked look in his eyes. ‘you should watch where you’re going,’ he’d urged. it was the way he said it, the way his hand squeezed at your wrist that had you thinking maybe he’d been noticing your efforts after all. he’d tugged you closer to him as if you’d be safer there and it was probably the most genuine moment you’d had in years, as you blinked up at the blonde man who’d just saved your life.

➸ honestly after that you decide to back off, feeling a little guilty about your scheming but seemingly the universe wanted the two of you on the same path. or maybe coriolanus did. suddenly he was there at family functions, taking meetings with your father, charming your mother at all costs. he’d come to dinners hosted at your families estate and his eyes would never leave you from across the table even when he was in a conversation.

➸ so when your family told you about the marriage proposal you weren’t that surprised, just giddy. everything was finally falling into place. you knew you’d have to be careful. to you snow was charming, doting in a sense but you’d heard the rumours. he could be dangerous and you’d have to make sure you were never in his firing line.

➸ in the beginning of your marriage you try and play coy, let coryo take the lead in things. you like to let him know how you rely on him, always holding onto his arm in public and letting him speak first. basically just playing up to his male ego but something about seeing you feeling so safe with him and letting your guard down has him letting some walls down too. which is exactly what you want.

➸ he’d start to confide in you after a while because you’re just such a good little wife! bringing him drinks in the evening in your pretty dresses, loosening his shirts and playing with his hair. it isn’t his fault he ends up telling you things about his past, things he plans to do in the future - a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t tell you especially since you’ll remember each and every one.

➸ kinda dark but i love the idea of you being able to read people really well and always hyper aware of who coryo surrounds himself with, always sussing out their intentions before he does. you give it a little while but if he’s still not catching onto them you’ll simply make something up. maybe they’re giving you dirty looks or maybe their gazes are just lingering a little too long for your liking, in places they certainly shouldn’t be looking. maybe they’ve flirted with you, maybe they’re making nasty digs but you have coryo eating out the palm of your hand by this point and he’s possessive, protective in a mad, feral way. you’re flat out lying but he eats it up and whoever you want gone doesn’t last much longer after that.

➸ maybe that’s how you get your power. by simply having his ear. people know that they can get what they want through you and by the time coryo is president you have people visiting you nearly everyday. hoping you’ll let them into your inner circle, offering you things in exchange for a word whispered in his ear.

➸ and maybe coryo comes to rely on you this way. you’re a capitol darling, their perfect first lady but behind closed doors you’re separating the good from the bad. the people who can help your husband and the people who’re out to damage what he’s built. people begin to see you as a powerhouse in your own right, someone with a good side they need to be on. or else.

[shuenkio]

Juno | Lhs.

Paring: Heeseung X M!reader | Genre: Fluff.

Synopsis: Thought he'd be disgusted by your love letter however who knows what he actually feels toward you? When your friend accidentally puts that for fun note in your gift that you're about to give him?

Cw: Nothing.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A@N: Christmas's laterally 3 more months away but who cares, I wanna make a change 💪 plus Juno are on repeating, so why not make an inspiration fic about it?

The Earth's spinning, people are living their lives in their own way, especially with their loved ones. You wonder, to the point of this age, should you just grow old as an old bachelor or find someone? Well, looking at yourself in the mirror already answers all your questions; you find yourself didn't match your satisfaction.

Insecure about your look wasn't enough; another thing is you've been hopeless romantic all of your life. Deep down, you wanted to have someone stay by your side, holding your hand while looking at the sky when it's sunset, cuddle when it's rain, compliment all the sweet things you've ever needed every day, and last but not least, you wanted someone to love you.

It's a silly daydreaming; however, every single day you can't go a day without thinking about anyone randomly popping out, riding their white horse, kneeling in front of you, and asking you, Would you be their partner? That's kind of crazy. Ever since then, brushed it all off as if it's nothing.

Continue to work hard for your bill in this messy industry. Surprisingly, God always has his own plan; he won't let you die alone... Right? Apparently, there's someone just moving in next to your apartment, and it's a man. Oh my. No, you can't be thrill just because he's a man; M/N, behave yourself.

That's how thirsty you are; later on, you thought you're the problem and started to behave yourself to be less attracted to a stranger, especially a man. On one holiday night, while back from work as you were unlocking your door, it was a coincidence when the new guy came out at the same time. Both of you never get the chance to greet each other because you're such workaholics. He greets you with a warm smile on his face, offering a handshake, as you hesitated to but still did.

He then introduces himself as 'Heeseung' called 'Evan' for short. He also said he never gets the opportunity to meet someone, mostly who are his neighbors since they are always out of the house just like you. For now, Evan wanted to invite you for a coffee. Oh. Spare a glance at his towering figure up and down; you realize he's positive; no bad energy from him; yes, you happily agree. A day turns into a week, a week turns into a month.

Trying all your hardest not to fall in love with Evan, who likes to do all those weird gestures that make your stomach fill with butterflies every damn time. Maybe you lack affection, sort of. He looks cool, is an ACE in everything, at least he can cook ramen, is a green flag in your perspective, is gentle and respectful of the boundaries, but one thing that made you stop midway was he can't be gay.

Evan is probably a straight guy that you mistake with his clingy behavior. Sigh, a lesson of life learned as a homosexual person. It's not right to force him to like you back, isn't it? Not even right to confess your true heart when he's so straight code, or he's not? Or is it worth pouring away all the heavy weight in your chest? The TV play in the living room, an announcement that today is going to be snow on this special day too, a Christmas day.

Brainstorming to seek out his favorite thing as you pop out an idea by gifting him a logo set; he loves it too much you couldn't understand why. As you were preparing the gift with all your friends together in a room before going out to celebrate in the city, you suddenly wanted to write a confession note for fun—write everything that had been living in your heart for a long time that has been hurting—a poem, to be honest, well, a little freaky, because you know you'd throw them away anyway.

"You make me want to make me fall in love."

"Wanted you to adore me back, hold me like you always did, and always joke, telling me I'm your only friend."

"Sorry, I like you, but I can't help it."  "Liking you was the best experience in my life, and I hope for nothing but still us to be friends."

Out of the blue, coincidentally, once you finish the note, your friend happens to pull you for a group photo. While you were busy posing, one of your other friends had nothing to do, so they went to wrap all the gifts of all of them. Usually, at every Christmas festival, they are in charge of who does the wrapping. The group united is over; after they're all stepping foot in the city, they've all vanished. Holding your gift like a lost child, looking at the crowd of people who's busy with their own business.

The snow keeps falling down from the blurry sky nonstop, so cold yet it fits the vibe you were going for. Snuggle your hands inside of your pocket; you leave the scenes as you drag your feet to somewhere quiet, your favorite park that used to be lively but now it's a field of snow. Taking a hot breath under the cold temperature, a shadow cast towering upon you, looking up to see, it was actually your greatest neighbors, Evan.

"What are you doing here, Fox?"

"Me? Oh, just chilling; I don't like crowds anyway." response, the tip of your nose turns pink, which makes Evan find it adorable.

"Why? It's Christmas; you should go enjoy yourself!" Taking about Christmas alarms your mind; you take out the wrapped gift and hand it to him. He caught off guard to the gift you have for him. Everyone would give him gifts during this festival; never make him flinch but you, a different story.

"Ugh, don't get the wrong idea; you're my neighbors after all; neighbors gift neighbors, isn't that normal? Take it, unbox it," take a hold of his palm, and give him the gift while waiting patiently for his expression. Hearing you say those, he did as told. Unveil all the tie, tearing all of the paper. Evan sees a cartoon Lego set inside with a small scratchy note that is about to be trash. The corner of Evan's lip, tight into a cocky smile as he takes out the small note, and hands up to the light street nearby. Maybe he didn't laugh at the Lego set but something else.

Seeing a note that you did not put in there and a confession note too, your eye wide open. The heart inside of your chest is pounding and racing far from the beat. You were nervous and panicking. How can it flow in there? Oh, wait, don't tell your friend to put it in there; naur, screw you. Quickly get up from your seat. I wanted to grab that note away; however, who are you kidding, he was 180 cm while you? A tiny little person.

"Evan, give that back; it's not; it's not the right note. My friend mistakenly put them there. DON'T READ IT." jumping up and down, up and down to snatch the piece of paper away, which is no use. All you got was to exhaust yourself.

"Oh, let me see, hmm, mistaken? But I see your name under here from me, M-N. How is that a mistake?" Realizing Evan already read it, you stop there frozen; the outcome would be something you are not going to like. Same goes for Evan too. You thought he'd be all serious and disgusted by your love note yet replaced by giggles. Um what?

"You, M/N, why have you not told me sooner?"

"Because... You look straight, i guess. Sorry to assume, but you did look like it."

"Oh, come on, why should I be straight when you're alive?"

"I beg pardon??"

"The word 'I like you' is out trending, so I'd say I. Adore. You, my M/N. My gift for you is

'i love you too'

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Crd to all the room rightful owner: [divider Alanitalenia]

🗣️ ps: I was dead ass sick writing this, but still cooked anyway 🫂.

[bad268]

Burn

Aftermath Affair Pt. 4

(Oscar Pisatri X Reader + Ex! Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Airing dirty laundry lol, that's about it. Based on the song from Hamilton (not Lewis)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1710

Chapter Summary: Y/n L/n posted a new video, and everyone's hearts stop.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 3

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

You moved in with Oscar that night. All you took were your clothes. Everything that Lando bought you now burned you, and you couldn’t give a fuck less about what he bought you. You wanted nothing to do with anything related to Lando. He reached out once, asking where you were. All you said was, “Ask Ava.” He understood then. At least, you assumed he did because you blocked his number and every social media account he had before he could respond. 

You heard from Oscar that Lando was a wreck. You laughed it off because he did this to himself.

Your subscribers noticed the change. Your personal channel content changed from video games to vlogs. You were going out and doing things, in London they learned, and they loved to see it. You still played games, but fewer racing games and more random games you always wanted to play. Your subscribers also noticed how happy you were. They were convinced you and Lando got engaged.

Little did they know, you were falling for a different man.

Your subscribers were thrown for a loop when your shared channel with Lando was deleted. You decided it was time to delete it. They bombarded your socials almost immediately, asking what’s going on. They tried to see if it was rebranded or saved anywhere, but it seemed like your entire relationship was ripped from the internet. Your Instagram was void of Lando, your channel no longer had videos with him, and you didn’t follow him anywhere anymore. They didn’t even notice until then.

~

Y/n L/n just posted!

“A Letter to Lando”

“By now, you will have all seen that the shared channel is gone,” You opened the video. You were sitting in your new recording room. It was more open than your last one, more bright. You had a large window that brought in a lot of natural light, and it was more your style. The last one was just Lando’s recording room that you borrowed, so you couldn’t change it. When you moved in, Oscar told you to make this space yours in any way you wanted. It took a while, but you felt at home for once. “I deleted our shared channel because I am erasing myself from this narrative.“

“I’ve filmed this video at least three times at this point,” You took a breath as you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It’s hard to talk about what happened. Not only the way in which you found out about the cheating but also how you reacted. It was one of the darkest times in your life, and it took a lot to come back from. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a struggle trying to find the words to share this. As many of you have seen on Lando’s Instagram, Lando and I are no longer together.”

Oscar still had to follow Lando on Instagram for team purposes, and that’s how you saw that he posted a hard launch with Ava. 

You still did not know how you wanted to tell everyone what happened. You looked off at the wall. Your viewers couldn’t see it, but there was a picture of you and Oscar from a few months ago. You went out to celebrate 1.5 million subscribers. Oscar insisted, saying it was a huge milestone, and you didn’t want to make it a big deal. He insisted and dragged you out of the apartment. The picture was taken right after you accidentally knocked ice cream onto his nose. Lando wouldn’t even celebrate 1 million with you. Remembering the happiness with Oscar made you smile.

“Clearly, we’re not together anymore,” You sighed as your smile faded. “I’m not going into details, but I hope they’re happy. My friends always said he would do what it took to survive, and they were right. I was blinded by his words and his actions. That’s on me.”

“You talked about how long you have been in love with her, and how you didn’t believe in true love until you met each other,” You let out a breath as you thought of your next words carefully. “You told the world how you brought this girl into our bed, and in explaining your love story, you have ruined our lives. Do you know what my friends said? They called you an Icarus! That’s how my friends reacted, so I’ve decided that I’ll let you wonder how I reacted when you broke my heart, when you tore us apart.”

“I kept every letter you ever wrote to me,” You chuckled lightly as you pulled out a few pieces of paper. “The letter you first asked me out with because you were too scared to ask me face to face, the letter you wrote when we hit each milestone, random letters where you just professed your love, and letters that I would have cherished forever. I also kept the letter I wrote to you when I found out. I thought about reading a few lines out,” You insinuated by opening one of the letters before pulling out a lighter. You had already opened the window and had a bucket of water by your feet, and Oscar was standing outside with a fire extinguisher just in case. You chuckled lightly as you skimmed the loving words that had now turned sour in your eyes. At that moment, you decided you wanted to watch it burn. “I’ll let you all wonder how I reacted when he broke my heart.”

Your soft smile as you read slowly turned to a scowl before you lit the corner of the paper and looked directly into the camera. “Lando, you don’t deserve to see how I reacted. You don’t deserve anything from me. The world has no place in our bed, and they don’t get to know what I said. I am burning the memories, the letters that might have redeemed you. Lando, you can sleep in your office with only the memories of when you were mine.”

You lit all of Lando’s letters one by one before dropping them in the bucket once they were destroyed. Then you grabbed your letter to Lando. You skimmed through the multiple pages of it, remembering the feelings before lighting the corner. “You didn’t give me the decency to tell me yourself. I had to learn of your affair from your friend, so you forfeit the rights to my heart. You forfeit the place in our bed. I hope you’re happy with yourself, Lando.”

You threw the last letter into the bucket and gazed at the camera. Finally, you felt at peace.

“One last note to Lando Norris,” You paused, allowing a small smile to envelop your features, “I hope you burn.”

~

The reactions were almost instant. You sat on the couch curled up against Oscar’s body, rewatching Sex Education. It was one of your favorite shows, but Lando hated it, so you never got to watch it. Oscar binged it once, so he was always down to rewatch it with you. You heard your phone going off, so you pulled it out of your pocket to check it. However, Oscar immediately took it out of your hand and powered it off. 

“Hey, what’s that for?” You chuckled as he moved your phone away from you. “I was gonna check that.”

“Shhh, the show is playing,” He whispered as he leaned toward your ear before turning his attention back to the show. 

“You’re insufferable,” You laughed as you turned your attention back to the screen. It didn’t hold your attention long as you looked back over to Oscar. You were leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, so you were looking up at him. He had an arm around your shoulder while the other rested against your thigh that was lying over his lap. You got lost in your thoughts.

Oscar was everything to you. You felt more free whenever you were with him. At first, he gave you the space to refind yourself. He even supported you throughout the journey. Any game you wanted, he bought. Any new hobby, he tried it with you, so you wouldn’t feel alone. He never pushed you to do anything, but he did support you in everything you wanted to try. 

You never felt this supported with Lando. Looking back, he was toxic. He only wanted to play racing games or stupid games. You wanted to try other things, and he would be condescending. He always pushed you to fit the cookie cutter mold that other racing drivers’ girlfriends fit, but that was never going to be you. Oscar encouraged the change because staying in the same thing for too long can burn you out. It was true.

At some point of your staring, Oscar looked down at you with a smile. It wasn’t until he left a kiss on your forehead that you noticed.

When you first moved in, Oscar was very respectful in giving you your space to heal. He made sure to give you multiple spaces where you could retreat to including your own room and recording room. As the time moved on, you slowly migrated into his room for movie nights and late-night binges, and it eventually became you two staying in the same bed all night. Oscar never pushed you away. He wanted you to know that he was there for you whenever you were ready, and he was willing to wait as long as he needed for you. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” He said with a quiet tone, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“I think I’m ready,” You replied in the same tone. You moved to sit up a little more before grabbing Oscar’s hand, “I’m ready to give us a chance.”

“Really?” Oscar asked as he started getting excited before calming back down, “Wait, I don’t want to rush you if you aren’t ready.”

“That’s exactly why I’m ready,” You laughed as you leaned back into him. “You gave me the space to become comfortable again. Oscar, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable and free with someone in my life! You have been everything but pushy, and I’m ready to try us.”

~~~ Part 5 ->

~

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Long Long Time

Day #3 - Prompt: Mutual Pining | Word Count: 1050 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Idiot 4 Idiot, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Platonic Stobin, Robin Knows What's Up

It's not one realization. It's several, over and over again. A steady falling, until he's in so deep, there's just nothing to be done about it. 

"Stop pining, dingus," Robin says, and Steve looks up at her and smiles.

"Impossible," he answers.

"Just tell him," she urges, and he shakes his head. Eddie isn't interested. He's made that pretty clear with the distance he's put between them. 

"Nah, that's not cool. He's getting ready to go," Steve says, "no reason to make it uncomfortable now."

"Dingus. No. Stop it. I can promise you Eddie is pining for you just as hard."

Steve shakes his head. He knows that's not true. Steve's tried all his best moves over the last two years, everything he knows, and has nothing to show for it, except a heart that's maybe not gonna be his anymore.

Steve sits on the floor of Wayne's house, and helps box tapes. Eddie's going. He's really leaving, and soon. 

And Steve's sure that's gonna hurt him for a long, long time. 

"So, what're your big plans for this summer, Harrington?" Eddie asks.

Missing you, Steve thinks, but doesn't say.

"Oh, I don't know. Hang out with Rob, I suppose. Find new jobs. You know we like to change it up every so often. Wreak havoc elsewhere."

Eddie laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"You could come with me, you know," Eddie offers, but keeps looking down at the box he's packing. "Both of you. All of us."

It's not a real offer, Steve knows that. He knows he's supposed to say no, supposed to let Eddie go, without throwing an anchor around his neck. 

"Oh, you don't want that," Steve rebuffs, and Eddie looks up. "I'll cramp your style."

Eddie laughs, "Yeah, you know me. Party animal."

Steve grins, "You might become one. You won't want me tagging along for that."

"But, what if I do?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him.

"Eddie," Steve says, trying to cut this off before he embarrasses himself.

"You're one of my best friends, and we could have fun together."

They could. Steve knows that's true. But he can't go live in an apartment with Eddie. Can't watch him spread his wings and date, right in front of Steve's face. That'd be too hard.

Even if part of Steve wants to say yes, desperately, just to cling onto anything that's being offered.

But he's trying to be better about that. Trying to grow, and shit.

He can only let his heart get trampled so many times, and he's nearing his limit. He definitely won't be able to survive it happening under Eddie's boot.

"C'mon, Steve. For me."

And that almost does it. He hates to deny anything that Eddie might want, but sometimes, you've got to save yourself first. Put on your own life preserver, then worry about everybody else. Robin's taught him that. Or, has at least tried to.

"I can't."

"Why? Robin? I said she can come, too!"

"Because we don't feel the same way about each other, Eddie!" Steve snaps, and Eddie turns into himself, immediately.

"Oh. Oh shit," Eddie says, "I didn't know you knew. Wow, that's embarrassing," he mutters, and it kind of makes Steve mad. 

"I'm not embarrassed. I can't help who I lov-. Like. Whatever. But I just can't torture myself, man. I want you to be happy, I do. And I'm the wrong guy for making that happen, obviously, so let's just leave it. While we're still friends."

Eddie's nodding, still packing, then he's suddenly frozen in place, "Wait. What? You make me the happiest."

"As a friend," Steve clarifies.

"Well, yeah. But, if you were into it, as more, too."

"Wait. What?" Steve asks, repeating the same thing Eddie had just said. This is gonna turn into Who's on First? if they aren't careful.

"I mean," Eddie says, shying away, "I know you aren't interested like that. But I still want you around."

Steve laughs, fucking cackles, like he's crazy. He feels crazy.

Was Robin right all along? Was Eddie doing the same kind of pining, and Steve just never noticed? Fuck.

They are both goddamn idiots, if that's the case.

"Well, don't laugh," Eddie says, and he sounds dejected.

"Wait, Eddie, hold up," Steve says, crawling across the carpet towards him, putting his hand on Eddie's forearm. "Do we have crossed wires here? Do you like me, like me? Like I like you?'

"You like me?" Eddie asks.

"Uh, yeah," Steve admits, "I have for a while, to be honest."

"Jesus H. Christ, we're idiots," Eddie says, pushing his hand into Steve's hair.

"Dinguses, if you ask Robin," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie's so close he could kiss him. 

Steve thinks he will, and leans in, where Eddie meets him halfway. Kissing him, and it's everything, more than Steve hoped it could ever be.

When Eddie pulls back he's smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges, fucking happy.

He looks thrilled, and Steve decides to go all in. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound.

"I think I'm gonna love you for a long, long time," Steve whispers in a sing-songy way, because even as happy as Eddie looks right now, Steve's still scared his love won't be wanted.

But Eddie just grins even harder.

"What made you think of that song?" Eddie asks, eyes big and bright, almost shiny.

"You hum it all the time," Steve answers, "under your breath. Like it's soothing."

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him tighter. Harder. Closer. They're on their knees, so that kind of hurts, but Steve refuses to let him go as Eddie whispers, "It was my mom's favorite song. She'd sing it to me at night."

"Kind of a sad lullaby," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"I was kind of a sad little boy," Eddie admits, and Steve runs his hands up and down Eddie's back.

"Well," Steve says, pressing his lips to Eddie's briefly, "if you'll let me, I'm gonna make sure you're not a sad adult."

Eddie kisses him hard at that, and Steve really will. Even if it takes his whole damn life. 

"I'll definitely let you. For a long, long time," Eddie echoes, the beginnings of a promise.

And Steve will take that deal.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!t

The title is from the Linda Ronstadt song of the same name.

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

~1984~

Chapter Two

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!” your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not. 

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself. 

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

───⋆｡°✩🕰️✩°｡⋆───

*Flashback*

2 years ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

───⋆｡°✩🕰️✩°｡⋆───

At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it. 

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.” 

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt. 

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.” 

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom. 

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?” 

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from. 

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it? 

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to. 

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.” 

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze. 

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.” 

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆