#this is why i had to make a big deal of committing to doing nothing for a long time literally i'll relax for 1 day and go

[banj0possum]

My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

[midniqhtt]

comfort fic reads II 4k celebration

₊˚⊹⋆ main masterlist ꨄ︎ part two list ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: list got too long and had me maxed out. so i shifted some fandoms to part two instead.

hi loves! i never do anything for celebrating but i thought i could make a big list of all my favorite fics i’ve read over the past few months/years and continue rereading. i can never get enough of showing my appreciation for writers and all their hard work, and i want them to know i think of these fics/series at least once a day ♡︎ i say ‘comfort’ but theres more angst lol

key- A: angst II F: fluff II S: smut II SB: slow burn II C: comfort

.𖥔 MARVEL .𖥔

𝑩𝑶𝑩 𝑹𝑬𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑳𝑫𝑺

ꨄ︎ loving you is easy two II @blank-potato II A + F

You and Bob are indifferent to each other, never seeming to mesh. But when you lose your memory, something new blooms between the two of you.

ꨄ︎ fooled around and fell in love II @flowersforbucky II S + A + F

you've never been one for commitment, and your teammates know it. when you and bob start seeing each other, it takes them by surprise and makes them worry about how he'll react to the heartbreak that they expect to follow. what they don't understand - you've never felt like this about anyone.

ꨄ︎ soft currents next to you II @nghtwngs II S + A + F

there is falling in love. there is also falling into another universe. there is also falling in love again.

ꨄ︎ home is where the heart is II @ilovemilestellersmoustache II A + F

Wanting to feel more included Bob decides to help on a mission but in efforts to protect you he injures himself leaving him with amnesia. Your boyfriend not remembering isn’t the biggest problem because he’s always going to find you again, even in a hundred lifetimes.

ꨄ︎ soulmate II @geminiwritten II A + C

you're engaged to bucky when you find out that not only are fated mates real, but you have one... and it's not your fiancé

ꨄ︎ we can’t be friends part two II @tfatwsbarnes II A

bob always wondered why you didn’t favour him over the rest of your team. until he learned that you had unsettled the bones of the tva.

ꨄ︎ cowboy like me II @goldenlikedayl1ght II A + F

you get a text from an old friend and think.. you could do worse than a book club.. with some benefits.

ꨄ︎ xerox two three II @ichori II A + SB + C

you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

𝑩𝑼𝑪𝑲𝒀 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺

ꨄ︎ bad boys don’t buy flowers II @espinosaurusrexex II S + A + F

Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

ꨄ︎ come back to you II @buckyalpine II F

What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform.

ꨄ︎ curiosity killed the cat II @queers-gambit II A + C

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

ꨄ︎ you’re my desire part two II @marvelouslizzie and @notafunkiller II S + F

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

ꨄ︎ graveyard part two II @wkemeup II A + C

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

ꨄ︎ dreamscape II @/wkemeup II A + C

When Bucky falls under the spell of a Djinn, the line between fantasy and reality blurs. In order to survive, he must fight his way back to the real world - even if it costs him everything he's ever wanted.

ꨄ︎ blurred lines part two II @ellemj II S + A + F

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

ꨄ︎ love language II @/flowersforbucky II S + F

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

ꨄ︎ flashing lights part two II @pellucid-constellations II A + C

Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?

ꨄ︎ stay still part two II @buckysknifecollection II A + C

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

ꨄ︎ saturn II @shurisneakers II A

you die. bucky tries to bring you back (or) close to a year after you die, bucky's desperation finally finds an answer. but it may not be the one he's hoping for.

ꨄ︎ bleeding heart II mournthebird II A + C

You're his assigned nurse.

ꨄ︎ 40s!bucky II @helaintoloki II A + F

after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ under my skin II @/flowersforbucky II F

what first begins as a series of bad luck shows you a different side of the man who normally drives you crazy.

ꨄ︎ moral of the story II @starktonyx II A

You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑲

ꨄ︎ without you part 2 II @foli-vora II A

You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵 𝑲𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻

ꨄ︎ for science II @projectionistwrites II S + A + C

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

ꨄ︎ red flags II @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss II S + A + F

Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. 

ꨄ︎ the jake problem pt2 II @bensolosbluesaber II S + A + C

Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you.

𝑷𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ sunset lovers II @duskholland II F

you’ve never met your soulmate, but you know his handwriting like the back of your hand—literally. every word your soulmate writes on his skin appears on yours, and vice versa. you’re desperate to meet him, but until the universe decides to introduce you, you’re stuck with scribbled smiley faces and chemistry formulae.

ꨄ︎ one more to see you II @waitimcomingtoo II A

in an effort to see Peter again, you Dream Walk and learn it’s consequences

𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑶 𝑴𝑨𝑿𝑰𝑴𝑶𝑭𝑭

ꨄ︎ silent treatment II @floral-and-fine II A + C

where the words their soulmate speaks first are tattooed on their arm.

𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑽𝑬 𝑹𝑶𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺

ꨄ︎ watchful eyes II @/espinosaurusrexex II S + A + F

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

ꨄ︎ out of time pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 II @after-avenging-hours II S + A + F

When Steve is poisoned on a mission, his only hope is a pure Super Soldier Serum. You travel to 1943 to find it—but without the infinity stones, your actions could change the future. Can you save him before time runs out?

.𖥔 TOP GUN .𖥔

𝑩𝑶𝑩 𝑭𝑳𝑶𝒀𝑫

ꨄ︎ the plan II @/geminiwritten II A + F

the squad are all pretty sure that bob has a thing for you, but you're not convinced, so you hatch a plan to tease him within an inch of his life until he snaps

ꨄ︎ the kind of girl i could love II @roosterforme II F

Bob has a secret admirer, but he's convinced it's actually Jake and Nat messing with him. 

𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑳𝑬𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑾

ꨄ︎ love to lie pt2 pt3 pt4 II @/ddejavvu II A + F

Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

ꨄ︎ things unseen and heard II @bloatedandalone04 II S + A + F

the one where you overhear bradley talk about you to jake and decide to give him the space he apparently wanted.

ꨄ︎ playing games II @/geminiwritten II A + F

you've been best friends with rooster for years and you're both obviously in love with each other, but he refuses to cross that line... until you accept some help from hangman and he takes the game just a little too far

ꨄ︎ wrong number II @roosterforme II F

Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

ꨄ︎ between friends II @sometimesanalice II S + F

Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

ꨄ︎ trouble in paradise II @/sunlightmurdock II S + A

After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

ꨄ︎ i’ll show you good, restore your faith II @/se7entyrell II A + F

Your relationship with Bradley is new. Really new. Like, 'haven't let him smell your morning breath yet' new. But when he gets a call telling him that his mom is dying, you find yourself driving him to San Diego in the middle of the night, preparing to meet his entire extended family during the worst period of their lives.

ꨄ︎ terms of endearment II @ohtobeleah II A + C (heavy themes)

They always say when you aren’t looking for love it tends to find you. So when you and your daughter turn up in Fighter Town, Bradley Bradshaw is instantly infatuated. With reluctance to trust and harbouring a bad past, you don’t make it easy for the fighter pilot to love you.

𝑱𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑵

ꨄ︎ domestic fantasy II @/geminiwritten II F

your ex is coming back to collect some things he left behind and you accidentally tell him that you have a new boyfriend, so hangman accepts the role of your new (fake) boyfriend

ꨄ︎ dirty laundry part two II @/geminiwritten II S + A + F

after a couple months of living together, you're still completely oblivious to how you affect jake and he's starting to spiral because now he's... feeling things

ꨄ︎ medical emergency II @marvelwitchergilmore II F

When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

ꨄ︎ sign of the times pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 II @se7entyrell II S + A

You're destined to die in Jake Seresin's arms. In every life, in every iteration, it's inescapable. Whether you loathe, or love each other, each ending stays the same. But what if it doesn't have to?

ꨄ︎ spring fling pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 II @ddejavvu II F (in progress)

You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

.𖥔 MISCELLANEOUS .𖥔

𝑹𝑯𝑬𝑻𝑻 𝑨𝑩𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑻

ꨄ︎ odds are stacked II @sunlightmurdock II S

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

𝑻𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑺

ꨄ︎ all yours II @/geminiwritten II A + F

after being best friends and chasing storms with tyler for years, one night changes everything... now you're staring at a pregnancy test with two pink lines—and just as you're working up the nerve to tell him, tyler announces to the world that he never wants to settle down or have kids

ꨄ︎ orange juice II @ahsokaismyqueen II S + F

When it's time to interview a group of storm chasers for your new book, you get sent back to your hometown. You never would have guessed one of the people you'd be interviewing would be your ex boyfriend. And you might still be a little in love with him.

ꨄ︎ no hesitation II @briefinquiries II S + F

Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑲

ꨄ︎ all the stars are closer II @kashimos-hajime II A + F

mark watney wasn’t the only one left behind on mars, and as you struggle to survive on the desert planet, hidden feelings come to light between you and your best friend, dr. chris beck.

𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻

ꨄ︎ all american boy II @scribes-of-valar II A + C

Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

ꨄ︎ no.1 party anthem II @sunsburns II F

what was supposed to be a night for work takes an unexpected turn when you run into clark kent—alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date who seems to have no intention of showing up. poor guy.

𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯

ꨄ︎ an itch you can’t scratch pt2 II @theonewiththefanfics II S + A + F

After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

[haeiheart]

LEE DONGHYUCK | NOT A BIG DEAL

LEE DONGHYUCK

SUMMARY: You and Hyuck have always been inseparable. Best friends who stick together through every minor inconvenience, every 2 AM fast-food run, and especially every party. Their little deal? If they’re both single and drunk at a party, they make out for a good time and purely to avoid awkward hookups with strangers. No feelings, no complications. It’s a good deal no? But when a new guy, Jeno, enters y/n life just like that. They both feel that for the first time, their “not a big deal” deal feels like it might’ve always been something bigger.

GENRE: friends to lovers - kind of fwb hyuckyn - jealous avoidant hyuck! - sweet jeno - minimal angst - slight reader x jeno.

NOTES: first time releasing a full written fic… bye im scared pls be kind (◞‸◟；) also first time making a header? design?? hehehehe. I hope you guys enjoy this though, i personally enjoyed written it so i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed making it for you guys!! :3 THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD SO IM SORRY IF THERES ANY ERRORS >_<

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

BEFORE THE PARTY

You and Hyuck have always been inseparable. The best of friends. The kind who finish each other’s sentences, send texts at the exact same time, and know each other’s go-to orders at every café on campus. It’s always been easy with hyuck. You don’t overthink things with him.

That’s why your little pact made perfect sense.

“If we’re both single, and we’re both at a party, and we’re both drunk, we find each other.”

It wasn’t some deep, life changing agreement. It was just a way to keep each other from making bad decisions with strangers. A safety net, nothing more. It always worked. Every single time. It was the perfect deal after all, you both get the pleasure needed in a fun night out. No commitment, no feelings.

Until tonight. But let’s rewind back a couple of weeks.

The day you met Lee Jeno.

3 WEEKS AGO @NCU CAMPUS

College life has always been a blur of assignments, late-night food runs, and whatever chaos Hyuck drags you into. Between classes and parties, your days feel like a well-balanced mix of stress and fun. Thank goodness you had your best friend to keep you sane right?

You first met Jeno during an elective course, one of those random classes you picked to fill credits unfortunately. He was the kind of guy who didn’t talk much but somehow made every conversation feel important. You sat next to him out of convenience, and it wasn’t until the next few classes that you really spoke to him, which was currently right now.

“Do you always write your notes like that?” he had asked, glancing at your mess of shorthand scribbles and little doodles in the margins. You could tell he wanted to laugh at it.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned. “It’s interesting. You do know this is a literature class, right? Because your notes look more like a doodle coloring book for toddlers my baby brother's age rather than actual notes.”

You snorted. “Well, you look like you should be in an engineering class, not here.”

“I was forced to take a humanities elective,” he admitted. “But it’s not bad. I like the class.”

“Because of the material or because of me?” you teased, raising a brow.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And just like that, Jeno slipped into your life.

The thing about him was that he never tried too hard, he didn’t force his presence, didn’t demand attention the way Hyuck did. He was just… there. Reliable. Easy to talk to. It was easy to get hooked on a guy like Jeno.

You started walking out of class together, grabbing coffee before your next lectures. You studied together, shared snacks, exchanged casual texts that eventually turned into daily check-ins. Somewhere along the way, you got comfortable with him. But it wasn’t until one particular afternoon that you noticed something else.

OPEN FIELD STUDY AREA @NCU CAMPUS

It was another dreadful afternoon, pilled with assignments you swore just appeared in front of your face. You and Jeno were sitting outside on campus, reviewing notes. Though half the time you guys were mostly making corny jokes and laughing at shared interests. That was until Hyuck showed up unannounced, like he always did, dropping himself onto the bench next to you with a dramatic sigh.

“What’s up, losers?” he greeted, snatching one of your fries before you could react, looking as happy as always to mess with your little head.

You rolled your eyes as a faint smile appears on your face. It’s been awhile since you saw him. “Hyuck, this is a study session. You know, where people focus?”

“Sounds lame,” he deadpanned, then turned to Jeno. “So, how do you put up with this one?”

Jeno smirked. “I think she puts up with me.”

Hyuck’s expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to catch the slight pause—the way his fingers drummed against his knee a little too fast, the way his jaw tightened for just a second. It was so quick that you almost missed it. Almost.

But then, as fast as it came, it was gone. Hyuck smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “Well, good luck, man. She’s a handful.” You smacked his arm, rolling your eyes again, but the feeling lingered. Hyuck only stuck around for a short while and you never questioned it, but the odd part was he was too quick to leave the setting as well. Feeling lost as he suddenly got up and fled the scene after saying his byes and ruffling your hair.

After that, things felt… different. Not drastically. Not in a way you could point to and say, this is where everything changed. But the subtle things. Like how Hyuck stopped crashing your study sessions with Jeno as often. How he’d make jokes about you “ditching” him but never say it outright. How he seemed to drink more at parties, getting reckless in a way that made you worry.

It wasn’t obvious, but it was there, buried beneath layers of laughter and banter. And maybe you noticed it too late.

@NEOCAFE - 127 DISTRICT

Hyuck doesn’t text first anymore.

That’s the first thing you notice.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, you’ve been busy anyway. School, assignments, late-night study sessions with Jeno. But the silence sits in your chest like a weight, pressing down heavier each day. You truly did miss your best friend, nobody else was as much of a dork loser like he was.

You still see him around. In class, at parties, in the spaces you used to share. But it’s different now.

No more texts that say where are you? when you take too long to respond. No more arms slung over your shoulder as he drags you out of the library for a “much-needed” break. No more late-night walks, just because neither of you wanted to go home yet. God you truly did miss lee donghyuck.

The worst part? You know it’s your fault. You were the one who stopped looking for him first. You were the one who let the space between you grow. And now, you don’t know how to close it.

Jeno Notices “You’ve been quiet lately.” Jeno’s voice is gentle, his eyes scanning your face as you stare blankly at your untouched coffee. It’s the third time he’s caught you zoning out in the past hour and he was getting worried.

You blink, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t buy it. You can tell by the way he tilts his head, studying you. “It’s about Hyuck, isn’t it?” The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You exhale, looking away. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything right away. He just nods, as if he already knew. And maybe he did. Maybe everyone did. You’ve spent so much time pretending things are fine that you almost forgot Jeno sees right through you.

So when he reaches out, fingers brushing over yours, you don’t pull away. Infact you allow yourself to get embraced by his comfort. Was Jeno’s comfort what you needed all this time?

@YOUR APARTMENT

The thing about Jeno is that he never rushes anything.

Not his words, not his movements, nothing. He lets things happen as they are, as if he trusts time to work things out on its own. Which is probably why being around him feels so easy, you always had a smile on your face when you were with him.

Like now, for example. You’re both sitting on the floor of your dorm, backs against the couch, a half-empty bag of chips between you. You’ve been talking for what feels like hours—about everything and nothing all at once.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jeno says, holding up a hand to stop you mid-story, his eyes already crinkling in amusement. “You mean to tell me you climbed a tree to save a cat, but then got stuck yourself?”

You groan, covering your face. “Okay, listen—”

“No, no, no, I need to process this.” He grins, resting his chin on his palm. “How long were you up there?”

“Like… twenty minutes?” you mumble, cheeks burning from embarrassment clearly…

Jeno loses it. He tilts his head back, laughing so hard his shoulders shake. You gotta admit that laugh of his does wonders to girls. He was a real catch. A once in a lifetime cutie, you should consider yourself lucky to have him around right?

You huff, crossing your arms. “Are you done?”

He wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh man. I- yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good.” He snickers again. “Twenty minutes. Amazing.”

You try to glare at him, but his laugh is infectious, and soon enough, you’re giggling too.

Jeno turns to look at you, a soft smile lingering on his lips. “Y’know, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk about yourself.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I mean, you’re always talking about Hyuck or your friends, but I like hearing about you.” He leans against the couch, watching you. “Your dumb little childhood stories. Your love for cats. Your terrible decision-making skills.”

You snort, nudging his leg with your foot. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you love it.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I might.”

Jeno tilts his head, studying you for a second. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Are you okay?”

The question catches you off guard. You consider lying, but Jeno has always been good at seeing through people. So you exhale, looking down at your hands.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I just feel… lost.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything right away. He just shifts a little closer, his knee bumping against yours. You don’t realize how much you needed that until it happens.

“I get that,” he finally says. “Sometimes it feels like you’re walking through fog, and you don’t know where you’re going. But…” He nudges you lightly. “That doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

You look up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, warm and genuine. “I’m here.” You don’t know what possesses you to do it—maybe it’s the way his voice is so steady, so sure. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re important. But before you can overthink it, you lean in.

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his lips quirk up in amusement.

“You’re not about to kiss me mid-existential crisis, are you?”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Shut up.”

But he’s still grinning when he finally closes the distance. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first. But then you feel him smile against your lips, and suddenly, it’s all laughter and warmth and the taste of leftover chips.

You break apart for air, and Jeno chuckles. “That was—”

You groan, covering your face. “Don’t say it.”

“— surprisingly nice for two people who just ate sour cream and onion chips.”

You swat at him, laughing. “You ruined it.”

He catches your wrist, grinning. “Nah. That made it better.”

You shake your head, still breathless, still here. Jeno doesn’t fail to make your day once again, as he leans in, continuing where you both had left off as if it was almost natural.

And for the first time in a while, you don’t feel so lost.

PRESENT TIME

And this is how your weeks have been spent. With Lee Jeno. Full of kisses, laughter, playfulness, and comfort. Jeno arrives with an armful of snacks, two sodas balanced precariously on top. “Alright, before we do anything, I have to ask…why do you have like, seven different cat towers in your apartment? Are they that spoiled?” as he takes in his surroundings once again.

You shut the door behind him and scoff. “Excuse you, my children deserve the best.”

Jeno grins, setting the snacks down. “How many do you have again?”

“Three.” You sigh dramatically. “But honestly, I think my oldest cat hates me.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“Because I accidentally stepped on her tail when she was a kitten, and she’s never forgiven me.” You flop onto the couch, pouting. “Now every time I call her, she looks at me like I owe her child support.” Jeno bursts out laughing, nearly knocking over the bag of chips. “That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”

You nudge him with your foot. “Oh, shut up. You’ve definitely done worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Doubt it.”

“Oh really? What’s the dumbest injury you’ve ever had?”

He thinks for a moment before admitting, “I once tried to jump over my couch but tripped, hit my head on the armrest, and passed out.”

You gasp. “Wait—like, fully unconscious?”

“Yup.” He sighs. “Woke up two minutes later to my mom yelling at me for being stupid.”

You’re already laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “Okay, okay, once, when I was seven, I thought I could ride my bike down the biggest hill in my neighborhood with my eyes closed.”

Jeno’s eyes widen. “No. No.”

“Yes,” you wheeze. “Flew straight into a bush. My mom had to pull twigs out of my hair for an hour.”

He practically collapses against the couch, laughing until his shoulders shake. “You’re actually crazy as a kid.”

“Thank you,” you say proudly.

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Jeno leans back, staring at the ceiling. “You know, I never really asked—but what was Hyuck like when you were kids?”

You hesitate, but the memories come easily. “Chaotic. Loud. Got us into trouble, like, every other day. He would drag me into the most ridiculous situations and it wasn’t even my fault.”

Jeno smirks. “Sounds about right.”

You smile softly. “One time, we thought we could build a pillow fort. We barely even got the first pillow up before the entire thing collapsed and we both fell.”

He laughs. “Did you get hurt?”

“Surprisingly, no. But Hyuck cried for a full hour because he swore it was sabotage.”

Jeno shakes his head, amused. “He hasn’t changed at all, has he?”

“Nope.” You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. “He’s always been… Hyuck.”

There’s a pause, but Jeno doesn’t push. He just watches you, waiting.

You clear your throat. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He hums, tapping his chin. “Alright. You know how everyone thinks I’m all sporty and serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” He leans in like he’s about to share a top-secret confession. “I used to write fanfiction.”

You choke on your drink. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse.” He sighs dramatically. “It was about superheroes.”

“What kind? Marvel? DC?”

“Neither. Completely original characters. I had a whole series.”

You clutch your stomach from laughing so hard. “Jeno. Are you telling me you were a self-insert superhero fanfic writer?”

He groans, covering his face. “Look, I was twelve—”

“NO, THIS IS AMAZING.” You grab his arm. “Did you give yourself powers? A tragic backstory?”

He peeks at you between his fingers. “…Both.”

You collapse into the couch, wheezing. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

He grins. “Alright, your turn. What’s your cringiest secret?”

You pause, then admit, “Okay this might not be cringy… but i had a harry potter phase.”

Jeno gasps, clutching his chest. “What house were you in?”

“…Slytherin.”

He high-fives you. “Respect.”

The conversation keeps flowing, lighthearted and easy. You talk about everything, old childhood memories, embarrassing moments, ridiculous hypothetical scenarios (what would you do if you woke up as a worm?), and somehow, even the meaning of life.

It’s fun. It’s comfortable.

But beneath it all, there’s something bittersweet.

Because you both know this is goodbye.

Eventually, the night slows down. The laughter fades, leaving only the quiet hum of the TV in the background. You shift, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “Jeno…”

He already knows. You can see it in his expression.

Still, he lets you say it.

“I have to go find him,” you admit softly.

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles? He smiles. A small, knowing smile. “Yeah.”

You swallow hard. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” His voice is gentle. “You never had to say it, y/n. I knew.”

Your throat tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He reaches for your hand, squeezing it lightly. “But… can I ask for one last thing?”

You nod, already knowing what it is.

“One last kiss,” he murmurs.

So you kiss him.

It’s soft, lingering. A silent thank you. A quiet goodbye.

When you pull away, he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. That was a solid 9/10.”

You snort. “Only 9?”

“Could’ve been a 10, but my foot fell asleep.”

You smack his arm, laughing. “Shut up.”

He grins. “Go. Before I change my mind and challenge Hyuck to a duel.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already reaching for your shoes.

And as you step out the door, heart racing, you realize—

This time, you’re going to run toward Hyuck.

Because he’s always been the one and it’s about time you told him.

@HYUCKS HOUSE

You don’t know why you’re nervous.

Actually, scratch that—you do know why.

Because this is Hyuck.

Because it’s been weeks. Because you let the distance grow, and now you’re about to do the most humiliating thing possible: show up at his door in the middle of the night, probably looking like a disaster, and pour your heart out.

Great plan. Really solid. No notes.

Still, you knock.

And the second the door swings open, all your thoughts evaporate.

Hyuck stands there, hoodie slightly rumpled, his hair sticking up like he was asleep before you interrupted. His face is groggy, blinking at you like he’s trying to make sure you’re real.

“…y/n?”

You open your mouth.

And immediately start crying.

Like, full-on tears. Embarrassing.

Hyuck panics. “Wait, huh, are you okay??”

You sniff, waving your hands wildly. “I— hiccup— I don’t know why I’m crying!”

His hands move without hesitation, reaching for your arms, steadying you. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” His grip is warm, grounding. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head rapidly, but the tears won’t stop. God you really missed him.

Hyuck makes a helpless noise before sighing and tugging you against him. His arms wrap around you, firm but careful, like he’s worried you might break.

You bury your face in his hoodie, gripping the fabric tightly.

Hyuck rubs your back in slow circles. “Okay. Just—breathe, yeah?”

You sniffle, nodding against his chest. His warmth seeps into your skin, comforting in a way nothing else has been these past few weeks.

And then, before he can say anything else, the words just spill out.

“I just— Hyuck, I missed you.”

His hold on you tightens for a second before he pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face. His brows furrow, but he stays quiet, letting you talk.

“You’re— you’re so important to me, okay? And I hate that I let us drift apart. And I hate that I didn’t realize sooner that you are—” You hiccup again, rubbing at your face. “I don’t even know what I’m saying, I just miss you so much, and everything sucks without you, and I—”

Hyuck suddenly squints at you. “…Are you drunk?”

You freeze. “What?”

“You’re being so dramatic right now.” His lips twitch like he’s holding back laughter. “You have to be drunk.”

You gape at him. “I am not drunk, you absolute—”

“I dunno…” He crosses his arms, pretending to analyze you as he leans closer to your face. “Messy hair, teary eyes, emotional confessions in the dead of night… this is very intoxicated behavior.”

You groan, shoving at his shoulder. “I swear I’m sober—”

“Alright, c’mon, Crybaby.” He snickers, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. “At least cry in my room instead of my doorstep.”

You let him drag you in, still sniffling as he kicks the door shut behind you.

And just like that, you’re home.

Hyuck flops onto his bed, patting the space next to him. “C’mere, you baby.” You roll your eyes but sit down anyway, pulling your knees to your chest.

Silence settles between you. Not awkward, not tense. Just… there.

Hyuck sighs, tilting his head toward you. “You really missed me that much?”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah.”

He watches you for a moment, then scoffs lightly. “Idiot. I was always here, y’know.”

Your heart clenches. “I know. I was just—”

“Being dumb?”

You groan. “Yes, okay! I was being dumb.”

Hyuck smirks, but it softens as he nudges your knee with his. “It sucked without you, too.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah?”

“Obviously.” He huffs, looking away like admitting it pains him. “Who else was gonna make me leave my apartment and go on stupid 2AM snack runs?”

You let out a small laugh. “You love those snack runs.”

“Yeah, but I love them with you.”

You freeze.

Hyuck doesn’t seem to notice what he just said, or maybe he does, because he clears his throat quickly and sits up straighter. “Anyway. What was up with that dramatic monologue outside? You really that miserable without me?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.”

He blinks.

You sigh, rubbing your arms. “Hyuck, you’re— you’re my person.” You glance at him, eyes searching. “You always have been.” You meant it.

Something shifts in his expression.

For the first time all night, he’s quiet.

Your heart pounds. “I—”

“Wait.” He suddenly lifts a hand, stopping you. Then, deadpan— “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

You groan, shoving his face away. “Hyuck!”

He bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners.

And even though you’re this close to smacking him, you realize—

This is why you came back.

Because no one makes your heart race and your soul feel alive like Lee Donghyuck. You don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten until his laughter fades, leaving only the soft hum of the night around you. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.

A beat of silence.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he leans in.

And you meet him halfway.

The kiss is warm, slow— like a quiet understanding. Like something that had always been there, waiting to be noticed. It wasn’t like all the other kisses, the party hookups. This was real.

His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss just a little, enough to make your breath hitch.

When you finally pull away, he exhales, pressing his forehead against yours.

“…Yup.” He grins. “You definitely weren’t supposed to kiss me like that if you were drunk.”

You laugh softly, still slightly breathless. “Shut up.”

He hums, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Not a chance.”

And this time, when he kisses you again, neither of you stop to think.

Because for once, nothing else matters.

NOTES: I wouldve wrote longer but my brain fogged oops but i hope you guys enjoyed!!

[navybrat817]

hi navy!!! I might be too late, but I was hoping to send in a request for ficlet Friday with Bucky Barnes and the prompt "shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl" and maybe avenger!bucky x avenger!reader if possible??

Thank you so much!!! <333

Hi, nonnie! I hope you like where I took this.

Better Tomorrow

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You get a small injury on a mission and it's part of the job, but Bucky still hates it.

Word Count: Over 950

Warnings: Established relationship, small injury, touch of angst, comfort, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were careful to keep your breathing even when you got up from the couch. If Bucky heard you hiss or groan in pain, he’d rush to your side and demand to know why you got up. He’d also put you right back where you were sitting and remind you not to move. It was sweet when you thought about it and you adored that he wanted to coddle you for a bit, but there was no need.

A bullet grazed your arm on a mission earlier, a superficial wound. It wasn’t the first time that a mission ended with an injury nor was it a big deal. Deep down you felt that it didn’t make a difference to Bucky how artificial the wound was because you still got hurt. For a second you thought he’d kill the man who shot you, but he held back. And by holding back that bad guy would be spending some time in the hospital before he went to jail.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen in the hopes that your boyfriend’s heightened hearing wouldn’t detect you, you froze when you spotted him behind the island. His hair down, wearing a white tank top, his shoulders hunched over as he carefully cut up pieces of fruit. The sight put a smile on your face and made your heart turn over.

Bucky was an Avenger. Both of you were. But this? Seeing your man in a domestic environment? It reminded you just how human you both were, that you could be vulnerable beneath the strength.

“You’re not resting,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours. He either heard you or he was that attuned to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been resting and I’m fine,” you smiled. He had already given you something for the pain, your favorite blanket and a book, and you could only sit for so long. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to continue the task with a look of indifference, but you knew better. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’re not, Bucky,” you gently spoke, taking a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Because you got hurt and I couldn’t stop it,” he confessed, letting out a breath and confirming what you thought. It was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt like he screamed it from the depths of his soul.

Your heart broke for him. He took the blame into himself when it wasn’t his fault, punished himself for crimes he didn’t commit. You wouldn’t let him do that tonight. Not when he was a hero and your loving partner.

“We’re Avengers, Bucky. We help people. We may get hurt along the way and it’s a risk we take, but it isn’t your fault if one of us does,” you told him, seeing a swirl of emotions in his blue eyes. “The guy who chose to shoot at me is the one to blame, not you.”

“So why do I feel so terrible?” he whispered.

“Because you love me and you don’t want me in pain. Maybe you even thought for a moment that you’d lose me,” you answered, your heart contracting when he flinched. You understood that fear all too well when it came to him. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

Bucky set the knife down and flexed his fingers, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he rounded the island to get to you. You moved forward on instinct and met him halfway so he could pull you into his arms. You fisted a hand in his tank top and wanted to burrow your face in his broad chest, your heart beating faster as you breathed each other in. He was safe, and so were you.

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t,” he said, his voice tight, careful not to squeeze your arm when he tightened his hold. He would never ask you to stop being an Avenger since he was out there doing the same thing, but injuries reminded him of the tough parts about being a hero.

“You won’t,” you said. You were both strong, capable. If you left the world tomorrow, you’d still be with him because your heart was his. You wouldn’t lose him either.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. It’s so soft yet so passionate that you couldn’t stop the tears from burning behind your eyelids.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, blinking the mist away. “Now will you come and rest with me? Maybe I’ll let you feed me that bowl of fruit.”

“You’d let me do that?” he smiled a little.

“I would,” you smiled back, gasping when he lifted you off your feet and was once again careful not to do anything to your arm. “Show off,” you teased, hanging on with your good arm.

“Just a little,” he said. Picking you up was no sweat to a super soldier. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper. Taking care of you was going to comfort him as much as it comforted you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered back.

You had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t sleep well tonight. He’d be too busy watching over you and making sure you were okay. If he did sleep there was a chance he’d have nightmares over the gunshot or a past injury. But in the morning he’d feel better knowing that you were really home with him, that you were okay, and that he didn’t lose you.

And if he really wanted to coddle and dote on you a bit longer, you wouldn’t stop him.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[revelboo]

I send this upon you, to cash in at any time:

💣

Inbox Nuke. So you may close and do another inbox wipe should you so choose. No request or anything.

🤣 at this point, it’s morbid curiosity to see how bad it can get. I wish the inbox had a search feature, because it would definitely make my life easier. 🔞 🌶️

Cybertronian Relationship/Intimacy Headcanons

Let those Cybertronians make noises, delve into details and sensations, into the fact that they’re not human. They act human enough, their expressions so like our own, that they lull you into feeling comfortable and it’s easy to forget. The first time they growl when you’re touching them and it’s a vocalization underlaid with the rev of their engine. Hearing them rumbling with the soft click of their fan cycling on. Trying to climb in their lap and digging a knee into mesh inside a seam, both of you startling at the unexpected blare of their horn. A seeker getting too warm during and their turbines kicking on with a whine, if you have longer hair you look like a very small, benign tornado got you afterward.

The first time Ratchet, Red Alert, or Prowl get head, their lights and sirens go off. They’re mortified and you’re laughing too hard to keep going. The bots getting too warm during sex. Having to stop in the middle to hit the washracks and cool off because they’re not burning you, but your skin is flushed red from the contact and it’s uncomfortable. Trying to get some space from your bot after sex because they’re too hot and you’re sweating only to get dragged back into them because they want to cuddle. It’s like getting spooned by a space heater.

Pressure lines on your skin from the edges and seams of their plating when you lay on them. So many bruises on your hips and thighs. The ambient thrum of their spark sinking into you, getting so used to it that you can’t sleep without it. The random revs, whirs, and clicks of noise their internal systems make all the time becoming white noise after a while. The heat and breathless, electricity of their spark when you run your fingers through it. Feeling it pull at you, teasing yourself and them with every touch, bombarded with bits of them, emotions and memories sinking into you in little prickles until you want to drown yourself in it. In them. Wanting to lose yourself to them completely and feel them cradling you in warmth knowing you’re safe. Addicted to that sensation of being seen and accepted.

When they slip up and start murmuring sweet nothings in their own language. Confessing the things they’re too nervous to just say to you. The cultural misunderstandings. Innocent things to one partner confusing the other. Sharing a meal an act of intimacy for Cybertronians. Energon so scare that the act of giving their fuel or ration to another becomes an act of love. Giving up fuel that was hard to come by to make sure their partner had enough even if they go without. Driven to feed you because they need to take care of you, to prove you matter to them.

Elaborate or simple conjunx gifts made from bits of themselves to adorn you. Mostly made by themself, but sometimes they might ask for help for complicated designs beyond their skill level. A physical show of their commitment that should be given before bonding but might even be given before intimacy. If it’s not explained to you, it’s just a pretty bit of metal in your bot’s colors. And you can’t understand why your partner becomes irritated if you don’t wear it at all times, but the mech might be too embarrassed to explain why it’s not just jewelry. They also might just pinch the clasp closed to prevent you from removing it altogether to avoid explaining.

The shockingly, humbling intimacy of you riding in their alt mode. Of having someone inside them, touching parts of them that have never been touched. The reassuring warmth and barely there weight of you tucked inside them trusting yourself to them. Not understanding how big a deal it is, but the bot is losing it if you actually fall asleep inside them on a long ride, curling up in their seat. Trusting them completely.

Unconsciously pulsing or cycling their biolights for you trying so hard to telegraph what they want without just saying it. Almost coming undone at the feel of soft, human fingers tracing their biolights because they’re pretty and not understanding that you’re flirting back now. Human hands on wings, chevrons, and antenna. Just lazily exploring without realizing those are all so sensitive, loaded with sensory arrays and you might as well be caressing their modesty panel. Warm mouths on neck cables and mesh, biting softly, those blunt nails dipping into mesh between seams while your partner’s venting raggedly.

Being reluctant to pull out after, curling themself around you, your head tucked under their chin. Wanting more, wanting everything and unsure how to just ask instead of taking. Worrying in the quiet after if the differences between you both are insurmountable. If there’s no way to overcome them in the long run. Servos toying with soft hands, lazily playing with your fingers while you drowse against them. Not recharging even as your breathing evens out with sleep, kept up by their own worries. Knowing they’re not safe, that being with them when they’re actively at war puts you in danger and that the kind thing would be to let you go. And unable to, needing your warmth to fill out the empty places hollowed out by a millennia of fighting and death. Wanting to feel something real. Something that isn’t hate, anger, or fear. Wanting to be allowed this.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]

Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.

For Horrorfest request:

Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)

Word count: 1024ish

notes: yandere, bad decisions

It isn’t fair. It simply isn’t fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair. 

“I didn’t know–” you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing. 

After all, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

Well, correction. You’ve sold your soul to a devil. 

A devil you hadn’t seen in years, and hadn’t expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time. 

Everything seems simpler, doesn’t it, when you’re not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?

–

“And… all I have to do is sign your book?” 

How weak you must look–how human, how mortal–to the demon standing in front of you. The bandage he’d wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good. 

He’s not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coat–doesn’t it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that you’re soaking in the reality of it all, mostly you’re focused on the book in his hands.

A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them. 

The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs? 

“And agree to make a trade.”

You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone else’s life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesn’t come to that. 

“What… do you want to trade for?” You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistake–and yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.

The demon snorts.

“Didn’t your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?”

“Um.” You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. “Yes. But I just–well.” You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; that’s why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. “I figured it’d be better if you just tell me what you want from me?”

The demon’s gaze narrows. 

“What makes you think I would want something from you, little human?” He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. “How arrogant.”

He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to–

“But there must be something you don’t have,” you blurt out. “Even demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?” Oh, it’s stupid, and unbearably human, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are. 

The demon parts his lips–and then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.

“What an unusual thing to say,” he murmurs.

He’s going to leave. He won’t make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, you’ve done all this for nothing. 

“All right. I’ll make a deal.”

You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“You-you mean it?” Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. “But–what will you trade for?”

The demon smiles primly. “Something you can’t even feel.  You won’t miss it once it’s gone, I promise you.”

Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesn’t help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you can’t feel and won’t miss… maybe a talent you didn’t know you had? Or one you did, but won’t miss after he’s taken it. You always did like singing, maybe he’ll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or he’ll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.

“Deal!” You blurt. 

He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesn’t have fangs, but that doesn’t make it less unnerving.

The book’s pages glow when he holds them out to you, and they’re warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.

You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.

The book snaps shut.

You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you don’t quite know what it means–

“Chrollo.”

–

You can’t feel a soul, and who knows when it’s gone? Not you, certainly. Though there’s something jittery about the realization that you’ve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.

Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?

All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection. 

“Don’t be so sour with me, dear.” The pet name makes your stomach roil. 

That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like it’s coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.

How hot it must be, where you’re going.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.” 

[strawberrystepmom]

rock star!dante x pop star f!reader. cw: overt age gap (20+ years). veryyyy self indulgent, inspired by this au i've been yapping about for weeks. | wc: 1.6k/ reading time: approx. 7 minutes

“It’s not like Dante Sparda of all people is going to dress up to meet me.”

You wish that two hours ago your assistant Patty would’ve warned you to keep those words softer and sweeter in the event of needing to eat them. 

“Oh, you have to be kidding,” you mutter to no one in particular when his tall frame rounds the corner that will lead him to the conference room where you wait.  “A button down, seriously? I don’t even think he’s worn button downs for half of his Grammy acceptance speeches.”

One measly warning would have made the blow of standing here, casual as you’ve ever been in a summer friendly long skirt and just short of scandalously tight t-shirt with a kitten on it paired with sneakers, less embarrassing. You cast a side eye in your assistant’s direction. She holds her hands up innocently, clearly biting back a smirk, the pair of you watching Dante and his assistant and manager make their way down the floor to ceiling windowed hallway of your shared record company. 

“Maybe this is some kind of weird middle aged man power play? You know how they can be.” 

Your assistant adds in an attempt to seem helpful, tapping away at her phone to move around the appointments that are going to round out the rest of your day in case this one takes a little too long. The rockstar and his team are already around 10 minutes late, which is already testing your patience, and time is money when you have a million places to be.

You haven’t come this far in your career by wasting time, that’s for sure. Topping the pop charts for nearly two decades takes commitment and sometimes being willing to take a stand for yourself. When he comes in here, you’re going to chide him for wasting your time. He may have a career that began before you were even born but you are a busy woman.

The glass door opens and you turn toward it with folded arms, a brow arched high. A young man who must be Dante’s assistant enters the room with a polite wave and a woman who you recognize as his manager enters second, approaching to kiss each of your cheeks politely. “Always good to see you,” she whispers, familiar with your manager who is employed by the same agency that wasn’t able to attend the meeting today. 

And finally, the man himself enters the room with a freakishly handsome grin. All six feet, four inches of unadulterated man steps into your space and smiles down at you, wavy white hair falling over his face. 

“Thanks for waiting on us.” He reaches out to shake your hand. You take it without a word, smiling tersely. “I like your, uh, kitten.” 

If the floor could open up and swallow you right now that would be great. So not only do you look unprofessional now you’re the butt of the joke about it. Taking a breath, you plaster on your most dazzling for the public smile and decide to play along, pointing at your chest.

“Oh thank you! His name is Whiskers.” 

His assistant chuckles. You point at his broad chest and the slightly wrinkled shirt that covers it.  

“I like your shirt too but I didn’t realize we were going to be so formal.” 

There’s an edge to your riff that Dante picks up on, quirking a brow. “Oh this? I had some interview thing right before I came, that's why we’re late, otherwise I’d probably be wearing a kitten t-shirt too. Don’t worry about it.”

And just like that, he watches your shoulders fall from near your earlobes to their natural position. The wrinkle between your brows smooths out and your smile becomes a touch less rigid.

She’s a little high strung, the man often called a legend notes about you in the back of his mind though it’s more for amusement than it to be incriminating. He’s worked with dozens of people just like you over the years and he knows how to take the lead to ease your mind. This is easy, this is nothing, this is no big deal. The calmer you are, the easier this will be. 

Luckily, he’s a pro at playing a pacifier.

“So we’re just waiting on Clara now, right?” You ask, tone far less edgy than it was moments ago. 

As if on some kind of sitcom cue, Clara stomps into the room, armed with the clack of her Louboutins and her smart pantsuit, clapping her hands together with a smile. 

“God, how lucky am I to get to be in one room with two geniuses?” 

Those geniuses?

Dante Sparda, the God. The 51 year old rock and roll legend. A man who has an entire style of playing guitar inspired by the way he passionately picks his own strings. You, the sweetheart who has lit up screens with your smile since you were barely pubescent starting out in a girl group and eventually hitting the ground running solo at 15, landing you squarely at 30 years old with a more than impressive career.

Wearing your usual smile, nodding gratefully in her direction. “Oh, you’re too kind. We’re both grateful you asked us to be here.”

Dante chuckles, nodding along with you. He’s fine with standing back and letting you play the schmoozer if that’s what you want. The six of you stand awkwardly for a moment and Clara makes her way toward the head of the long table that occupies most of the space in the room, the rest of you following suit. Dante pulls the chair next to him out and nods toward it.

“All yours if you want it.”

Nodding, you slip onto the seat and put your hands in your lap. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.”

Dante shrugs and sits down next to you, placing his elbow on the table and propping his head up with his palm. 

“You’ll have to get used to me doing that if we’re gonna work together.”

So, this is starkly different from your last collaboration. Clara and your manager hatched an idea for a duet between yourself and an up and coming artist who wouldn’t even stay in the same room as you long enough to have promotional photos taken due to “his schedule”. They had to edit photos of the two of you to make it seem like you were ever around each other.

You work well alone yet the thought of having a collaborator who actually wants to work with you is mighty appealing. Especially someone as talented and respected as the man next to you.

“Alright, no more wasting time. We want the two of you not just a song but the song, for this…”

The flat screen behind the head of the table lights up when Clara presses a button on the bottom of the table. A video starts to play, opening with a black screen and filling gradually into white, empty space. You blink at the screen until you’re surprised by a loud sound that resembles that of an explosion and a tuxedo clad man appears on screen, martini in hand with a knowing smirk.

“So this? This is a spy movie.” Clara looks at the table, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, that spy. Naturally, we want sex appeal and who better to bring it than you two?” The executive points between the two of you, her red painted index finger stopping at Dante. “I mean, he’s the three time Sexiest Man Alive according to People mag,” her finger shifts in your direction. “And you have held a stronghold over the 18-32 year old men demo for almost a decade. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Those shoulders park back up toward your ears, tension evident from your posture. That’s the last demographic you want to be popular with, all too aware they aren’t listening to your music to understand what’s on your heart but this isn’t the time to give an impassioned plea about sexualization. 

Sensing your discomfort, Dante slides his hand across the table and leans in toward you with a brow raised. Despite holding your own for as long as you have been, you feel strangely disarmed by him and that charming and easy going nature and further eased by the boyishly mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Whatcha think? Can we manage that?”

You want so badly to be annoyed and to shrug him off yet heat rises in your cheeks, forcing you to look down for a moment seeking composure. Just a single breath, it’s all you need. One passes and you look into Dante’s eyes, avoiding glancing at his smirking mouth lest he get the wrong idea, smiling back at him.

“Yeah. I think we can.”

Maybe you need to be thinking about your reach with the 33-55 year old demographic next.

“Then book it!” He claps excitedly, making Patty jump in her seat on the opposite side of you. Clara claps along with him and the room erupts in cheers, encouraging you to giggle and clap with an unrestrained shrug.

“If sexy is what you want, then sexy is what we’ll give you. Right?”

This is the moment when you notice Dante is staring right at you, thumbing the corner of his own mouth with a smirk. 

Familiar heat rises in your cheeks once again and you shrug coquettishly, spinning side to side in your chair. “I’m just along for the ride.” 

He chuckles again, a sexy, low rumble in his chest.

“Well, I promise I’ll make it an easy one.”

The chatter of the room picks up around you though it feels totally ignorable when he’s sitting next to you which could prove to be dangerous during this process. Or nothing at all if you choose to ignore that warmth in your face and the blue of his eyes.

[cottonconnielvr]

❥MONDAY — c. springer

seven days a week.

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — both are under influence, spitting, usage of 🍃, hair pulling if you squint, fuck idk i suck at warnings just smut at the end leave me alone i can’t deal rn + i’ll come back to edit

CONNIE has been unfocused more than usual. He has high energy usually and is bouncing from task to task but today, he can’t seem to grasp reality.

“Bro is you good?” Onyankopon says in between a laugh. He had been calling Connie’s name for about a minute. Connie looked up from the counter, multiple packs of weed sitting on the counter. Ony was looking back from his spot on the cream colored couch, his dark green tracksuit making him stand out.

“…Yeah” Connie nodded his head at him, continuing to place weed on a scale. “Yeah ight…i’ve been calling your name” Ony walks around to the kitchen island. “Well I didn’t hear you” Connie snaps back at him.

Ony smacks his teeth, bucking at Connie. “Yo sassy ass be around Sasha too much”. Connie shook his head. “You remember that one drop we did at Marco’s yesterday….” Connie suddenly brings up.

Ony looks up, thinking back to the previous day. The party was big, he gave a couple college girls a 3.5 then left by himself. “Yeah…why?” Ony asked in confusion, now wondering if something happened to make him bring it up. Ony and Connie were like brothers, they had committed to this game together. They protected each other all the time.

“Do you remember seeing Sasha with a girl wearing pink beside her?” Connie specifies, thinking back to his first time spotting you.

“Yeah you talking about Y/N?” Connie nods his head, Y/N

“What about her?”

“Nothing, jus asking” Connie lies to Ony. There was something. Connie’s mind had been suffocated by the thought of you. He remembers how you smiled at everyone Sasha introduced you to. He also remembered how you looked up into his eyes, yours red and low.

He told you his name and you told him his– atleast he thought you did. The music was playing so loud he didn’t hear you. But that was the last thing he was worried about, he was focused on the way you were staring him down.

Since he woke up this morning he’s been thinking about the mystery girl who sucked the soul out of him. The mystery girl who’s pussy was the wettest and warmest he’s ever been in.

He cried everytime he came that night, that’s never happened before. He hoped you didn’t notice, not wanting to creep you out. He also wondered if you enjoyed it as much as he did, and if you were thinking about this particular hookup all day as well.

He’s never felt anything like you before. You had to be a crystal bitch or somethingggg like pussy putting spells onna nigga🫃🫃

He just hopes he can meet you again, for a proper introduction.

❥

You sip on your Starbucks Frappuccino, two small Tiffany and Co. bags in your other hand. You were walking down a shopping outlet, deciding to spend your free time shopping. For the past couple of days, you’ve been straight partying. The most recent one was a bit memorable though. You were pretty cross faded and had some of the best sex in your life. You couldn’t exactly remember who it was with though. He was wearing light blue and white, you can accurately remember. Tattoos all over and he smelled amazing. But his name?…..can’t exactly remember that one. You just brushed it off though, maybe he’ll come around again but you weren’t worried.

Your phone started to vibrate in your back pocket. You grabbed it before reading the contact name, ‘Sash🫶🏾🤍’

You pressed the green icon, Sasha’s face appearing on the screen. “You gotta come to this kickback” She says before you can speak.

“Girlll, i’ve been out for days. I think I still have a hangover” You whined, looking up at the Coach sign before walking in. “Well it’s not like an actual kickback. Jean is just throwing a get together,” You sighed, looking down at Sasha as she was munching on some chips. “Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It’s gonna be like fifty people max” She pleaded, bringing her face super close to the camera.

“Okay fineee,” You groan, sipping the last of your Frappuccino. “What’s the dress code?”

“Mmmm… sexy casual” Sasha nodded her head. “Kk, I’m gonna finish up shopping babe. Send me the addy” You said your goodbyes before hanging up.

❥

Connie laid back on Jean’s couch manspreading. He had a blunt in one hand, the other resting on the couch. He had no tasks for the rest of the day and decided on stopping by Jean’s, a mutual friend.

His eyes were already red and low, he could start to feel his munchies kick in. He smoked the last of the roach before putting it out. There’s a good amount of people here. Maybe about 30 or 40.

Some people smoking hookah in the corner, some outside just chatting. The vibe was calmer than what the house parties he usually attends are.

“Ay Con!” Connie looks back from his spot on the couch. “Come take a shot!” Eren called him over,holding up a shot glass. Connie wasn’t much of a drinker but did every once in a while. It simply wasn’t for him. Standing up and walking over to the island, he hears a familiar voice speaking from the door.

“Wowwww shots without us?!” Sasha walks over from the door, you trailing behind her. Connie can feel his heartbeat pick up. It’s you. Your now standing infront of him, looking 10x more stunning.

“Y’all remember Y/N” Sasha gestured to you while snatching the bottle from Eren.

“Hey” You flashed a smile that made Connie jr harden just a bit. Your eyes wandered around the room. Not too many people, but enough for you to have to raise your voice a little if you’re trying to have a conversation.

Your eyes stopped on a pair that were only staring right back at you. You could feel your breath hitch. Holy shit no way

❥

The night has been filled with pure tension. Sexual tension at that. You’ve come to find out that ,mystery boy with a huge dick, name is actually Connie. The entire night he’s had his eyes on you, both of you keeping eye contact. A part of you kept wanting to look back from your spot on the couch. You’d only immediately find his eyes. It was as if you were silently conversing. You both wanted more of eachother, but how do you approach your “one” night stand asking for just another round.

“Imma go get a refill” You say to Jean, passing him the hookah. He nodded before continuing to converse with Sasha.

You walked into the kitchen, holding your red cup in one hand. Much to your surprise, Connie was the only one in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, his head down and all his attention focused on the blunt he was currently rolling.

You walk over to where all the bottles were, Connie’s head immediately lifting as he gets a whiff of sweet perfume. You smile to yourself when you feel his stare on you. You pour a little hennessy in your cup before turning around.

Connie’s looking at you with his eyes low and redder than before. You keep eye contact with him as you sip from your cup. Your gloss staining your cup.

Connie watches you closely, focusing on every single detail about you. He’s wondering what makes you so different from any other girl he’s been with.

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You decide to speak first, breaking the ice. Connie can feel his dick twitch at the sound of your voice, a slight rasp from the burning of the alcohol.

Your thighs clench together as you watch Connie lick his lips. “Shit…..guess I was waiting for you to come to me.” His voice coming out low and deep.

The tension in the kitchen is so high right now, even Ony who’s sitting on the couch can feel it.

A lazy smile breaks out on your face, Connie’s too as he licks the blunt. His eyes never look away from yours, dragging his tongue across the wood. You can even see his tongue piercing that was deep in your pus-

“Mhmm, well i’m here now so…” You trail off, walking a bit closer to him. You can smell his cologne from where you stand. Your intoxication was making this no better for you, as well as the PartyNextDoor that’s playing in the background.

You watch as Connie lights his blunt. He brings it to his lips before puffing twice, just to make sure it’s lit. He sucks in a breath before blowing the smoke out. He reaches his hands out, holding out the blunt to you.

You hesitate before moving closer, taking it from him. You reach for a napkin to wipe your lipgloss off but Connie only grabs your wrist. “You don’t have too, i’m okay with it”

“Oh…okay” You bring the blunt up to your lips, the smoke immediately making you cough. “God damn, strong ass…” You can’t finish your sentence through a fit of coughs. Connie lightly laughs as he reaches to grab an unopened water bottle on the counter.

You could already feel like you were baked off of just one hit, your eyes looking a little sleepy. “I’m already high what the fuck…” You blinked up at Connie.

“I guess i’m just used to it” He hits it again. “You’re literally smoking the devils lettuce. That shit came straight from hell” You take a gulp of water.

Connie could tell you were a lot less tense. For some reason you trusted him like a lot… even though you’ve never had a full conversation with him.

“I enjoyed last night a lot” You lean against the counter, head tilting. You know that you’re being bold all of a sudden but fuck, this man was too fine.

Behind his faux chill demeanor, Connie was freaking out. He wanted to feel you again. He never wanted you to stop talking and he could look at you for hours.

“Yeah, me too” He’s fighting his anxiety, trying not to seem to excited to be talking to you. He was praying, even crossing his toes that he would be able to get another look at your naked body.

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on whether or not you should keep making the moves.

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom” You trail off, not giving Connie another word before walking off with your cup.

Connie almost jumps off the counter, fighting the urge to throw his rolling tray to the side and follow you right to the bathroom. He wanted you to keep talking to him. Connie watched you walk up the stairs, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

❥

“Fuck, talk to me mama” Connie breathes into your ear, your hair roughly tangled around his fist. You can feel him in your stomach, punching your cervix over and over.

“Ah-mmph..I can’t” Your hands hold onto the sink, grasping it harder than you can grasp reality.

Connie feels a bit bad that he wishes he didn’t have on a condom right now, wanting to feel you raw.

“Yes you can, you are now —fuck— aren’t ya?” Connie taunts you, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “I don’t want p-people to hear” Your head rests on Connie’s shoulder.

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to know how much of a slut you are?” Your eyebrows furrow, you were pretty sure you saw tears falling down Connie’s eyes the first time you hooked up. You clenched around him purposely, earning a whine from him.

“Oh i’m a slut?” You lifted your head back up to look at him in the mirror. You used Connie’s vulnerable state to push him off of you, giving him no time to be confused before you drop to your knees.

“What the– fuck” Connie groans out. You watch as this grown man literally slaps his hand over his mouth. Your tongue runs up his cock, licking up all your wetness. You rise up, peeling Connie’s hand off of his mouth. He watched you intently. You squished his cheeks together before spitting your wetness in his mouth.

A part of you feels really really slutty. No man has really made you feel like this. Yeah sure you wanted him but you wanted him to chase after you, not the other way around.

You watch Connie swallow with no hesitation. “You’re cool and all Connie, but I don’t even know you. It’ll take a little more than a blunt.” You watch Connie’s mouth open agape.

He was very very confused. He thought you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You let him eat you out before letting him put his dick inside you. Then you suddenly stop him? What the fuck-

“Just letting you know, i’m a bit expensive” You fix your clothes and hair in the mirror.

“Bye Connie” You sweetly say, before exiting the bathroom, leaving Connie with a rock hard erection.

“Fuck i’m too high for this” Connie face palms himself. No way he just let a girl edge him.

@getoscrybaby @ginger4sugar @cybercandy1 @rintcrous @conniesministallion @junevenile @yourrfavzxri @reinerszn @lowkeysumgyall @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @royalty-cashinout @lovelytayy @starpdfs @syarblu @urmotherswhor3 @simp4tenko @emery-333 @hopefuloperaangelnerd @pinkfqiry @donutsrsweetbagels @katymae12344@urivl @mdibby @dezibou @dramaticOflwer @animeloverzx @y3rn4y0n yOn @honeyxluv @jupittterrrrr @iikatsukii @glossygirrll @severenswife @h3v3n1y + many more beautiful people <3

Please message me to be removed or added to my taglist🫶🏾

[puckinghischier]

ok but watching christmas movies and rotting with quinny would fix me

oh he would sooooo be down for rot time and bad christmas movies

he’d help you make a whole set up. fluffy blankets, hot chocolate, matching pjs. he’d help you scroll through and pick the silliest sounding plot before draping the blanket over the two of you, the only lights in the apartment being the tv and the christmas tree.

he’d debate with you about the different scenarios in the movies. why it would never work between a ceo and small town bakery owner in real life, or how it’s unrealistic for these couples to fall in love in a week.

“i’m just saying, if i had just met you a week ago, i wouldn’t be out here buying you this big expensive christmas gift and introducing you to my parents on christmas eve,” he argues, watching the hot shot business man on the tv.

“quinn! you’re saying you wouldn’t fall in love with me in a week if we didn’t already know each other?” you scoff, not really offended, but you don’t dare agree with him, needing to defend the sweet main character on the screen.

“no? you’re saying you would?” he turns his head to look at you like you’re crazy.

you cross your arms for dramatic effect, leaning away from him. “of course i would! and then i’d bake you the best batch of gingerbread cookies you’d ever have and you’d fall in love with me, too,” you huff, turning your nose up.

“oh, c’mon you can’t be serious,” he throws his arms up in exasperation, not believing you’re seriously mad at him over something this stupid. “these movies are so unrealistic! they meet, fall in love in a week, and they expect us to believe it’s a happily ever after? what about when they find out the other one snores? or they leave their dirty socks in the couch? or they pour the milk in the bowl before their cereal?”

you open your mouth to gawk at him. “i can’t believe you’re saying you wouldn’t fall in love with me if we were in a hallmark christmas movie. how dare you,” you, once again, exaggerate the tone of your voice. you make a big deal of fully scooting away from him, not mad, but too committed to the argument at this point.

“y/n, c’mon, none of this is real life! you can’t really tell me you think any of these relationships would hold up in the real world,” he turns his body towards yours, trying to get you to look at him.

you really put on the theatrics at this point, making your voice quiver and lip shake. “i just…i would like to think that our love would be strong enough to last, that we would find each other in every world, even fake ones like this,” you tell him, sniffling and wiping at the welled up tears you forced to spring to your eyes.

quinn sighs in defeat, not having expected his offhanded comment to turn into this.

“no, babe, no c’mere, you’re right, i’m sorry. our love would prevail in any scenario,” he closes the distance you created, scooping you up in his arms, cradling your head to his chest. “i would totally fall in love with you if i had never met you and spent a week doing nothing but arguing and bickering with you. i’d take you home to meet my parents and brothers on christmas eve and i’d give you some priceless family heirloom as a present and we’d live happily ever after. on every holiday. not just christmas,” he assures, softly petting your head to calm you down.

you grin widely, raising up. “ha! so you would fall in love with me in this stupid movie! i knew it!” you’d nearly shout, pointing a finger and wagging it right in his face.

quinn is shocked, mouth dropping open at the sudden switch up in your demeanor.

“i- what? did you just…fake cry to get me to agree with you?” he’d spit out, not believing you’d stoop to fake tears.

grinning, you nod. “i sure did, and it worked. knew you were whipped, just didn’t know how badly,” you state, proud of your acting skills.

quinn would squint his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “oh you sick, sly woman,” he’d grit out before playfully lunging at you, attacking you with tickles and kisses, forgetting all about the source of the argument playing on the tv screen in front of you two.

[munsonsreputation]

am i allowed to cry?

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.8k]

warnings: cursing, allusion to depression and anxiety, reader nearly has a mental breakdown over the stress of work/school/and life, steve comes to the rescue don't worry (honestly just wrote this because seasonal depression combined with school and work and life is real as fuck and we all need some comfort), also semi proof-read, sorry!

summary: it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, something too heavy for you to bear all alone, but you do, anyway. and when you finally collapse under pressure, the last person you want to worry is your boyfriend steve, but he’s your safe space, and all he ever wants you to know is that he’s going to be there for you through smiles and tears.

The fatigue settled under your eyes and in the depths of your bones like a heavy weight pulling you down. There was an exhaustion seeping from the inside out, eating you alive until you were merely a shell of yourself. Your stomach twisted in knots unsolvable even with the help of sleep or tea—you felt beyond defeated with no way out.

It didn’t matter where you were and how ‘fine’ you thought you were. The feeling of dread became embedded into your entire existence and it was getting harder to keep up the act and blame it all on school or work. Perhaps it started there, but slowly and surely did the feeling morph into every avenue you steered towards in order to escape.

Your hangouts with friends suddenly turned into an inner panic attack of sorts, feeling the need to keep up with everyone who was doing so well whilst you were barely making it out alive.

Family dinners then turned into interrogations, where they poked and prodded probably with the best intent to figure out why you were so absent, but it all just felt like an attack coming from left and right.

No matter how hard you tried to keep up the facade of being fine and telling everyone they were making a big deal out of nothing, you knew you were moments away from falling apart. At this rate, you were a machine breaking down piece by piece, rusting and stalling until you couldn’t move anymore.

And the absolute last person you wanted to shrink away from was your boyfriend, Steve.

He was the most supportive and present person in your life you could have ever asked for. He never doubted you in anything, and most times he was the one egging you on to go after your dreams. Telling you to take risks and go for it, because you always succeeded in everything you did, and even when it wasn’t on the first try, he knew you were bound to get a hang of it.

A special trait about him that you adored so much was his trust in you. He knew what it was like for people to always question his worth, to try to make it seem like he wasn’t capable or smart enough to make his own decisions so much so that other people had to step in and save him. But to be fair, Steve Harrington never needed to be saved—he just needed the right people around to show him it was okay to make mistakes and learn from it.

And you did just that.

When Steve didn’t know what he wanted to do after graduation, you never pestered him on to go off to college, committing himself to something he wasn’t one hundred percent certain about. Instead, you encouraged him to find his calling, to scour town in order to find different hobbies that had potential job opportunities. To volunteer and possibly shadow in order to widen his options.

You were always supportive and did your best to guide instead of control—and because of that; he was able to find a job that made him happy, surprisingly enough.

And likewise, while Steve never was the biggest fan of structured school, he guided you through your college path. Providing all the moral and emotional support he could offer you, and at times even going as far as to reading a textbook chapter alongside you to help you understand concepts that were all too confusing.

He never pushed too hard, and never made it seem like he didn’t care. There was a perfect balance between your understanding and his—a sort of tune that always was in perfect harmony…until it wasn’t.

You had been assuring Steve that while school and work were surely kicking your butt, you had it all under control, but that was far from the truth. Date nights were seemingly pushed back…not that he minded since he understood you needed to study and rest—but things were beginning to feel more off.

You avoided having him stay the night at your place or even just stopping by to drop you off some food. When you did spend time together, you were physically there, but not mentally. You listened intently to what he had to say, but when it was your turn, you shared little about what was going on with you, and diverted the questions back to him.

A lot of the time, you just seemed out of it. Too far away in your mind for him to reach you, and while he knew everyone had their off days and even off weeks, yours was becoming imminently permanent, and you were beginning to realize it, too.

You sat hunched over at your desk, eyes welling with tears as you stared down at your notes, then back to your textbook, then back to your notes once again. Nothing was making sense, and your patience was slim to none, batting your eyes as the tears fell onto the pages where you were too fed up to care.

Your mind was scattered all over the place, thinking about how you needed to make sense of the content in front of you, but also about the many deadlines of other assignments you had under your belt. On top of that, you had other responsibilities that needed your full attention, yet you sat there wondering how you were even going to complete one of them.

There was something that snapped inside of you. A guttle cry that you let out as you pushed yourself out of your desk chair and stood with your hands threaded roughly in the roots of your hair. Hot, vicious tears floated down your cheeks while you paced in circles attempting to calm yourself down, but nothing worked.

You needed Steve, even when you didn’t want him to see you like this.

He was at your doorstep not even a whole ten minutes after you had phoned him, asking if he would drop by. It was almost midnight, and usually at this hour your nose was buried deep behind textbooks and assignments, but he could just tell something was the matter.

He had asked rushed and worriedly, if everything was okay, but you refused to give him a definite answer, just sniffling back your cries and humming, telling him to come over as soon as he could. The drive was short, and yet for him it felt like eternity until he was face to face with you on your front porch.

“Baby,” His voice was rigid yet gentle, striding closer to you as his warm hands came down to hold your arms, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” He breathed, half catching his breath from his haste, and half worried out of his mind.

He bent a little at the knees, trying to get a better look at your face in the dimly lit doorway. All the color was drained from your skin, except the red path your tears took down your cheeks and your bitten lips.

You sniffled hard, an unevenness apparent in your breathing, “N—nothing,” you lied pathetically, closing your eyes as you shook your head, “I’m just a little stressed. You don’t have to worry about m-me.”

There was lots to worry about, especially seeing you in the state that you were in. Steve had seen you stressed out many times before. Worried about running late, leaving something behind, nervous about a final exam, but nothing ever to this extent. This was more than stress, and he knew it.

“Let’s go inside and talk, yeah?” He murmured, ignoring your comment and leading you back into your home, hoping to get you to talk some more.

Guiding you to the kitchen, he switched on the lights, pulling out a chair for you to sit at the dining table while he got you a glass of cold water and some paper towels.

“Have some water, baby,” He knelt on the ground, holding the cup of water to your lips.

You sniffled, closing your eyes tightly as you tried to catch your breath before taking a sip, letting him help you, and pulling the cusp away from your lips before you could cough up. You could feel his eyes boring through you, filled with fret wanting to get down to the bottom of the situation yet letting you go at your own pace.

He took the paper towel, crumbling it up into a small ball to dab over your cheeks and under your eyes, doing his best to soak up all the tears that kept pouring. His heart shook and broke in his chest, wondering what had happened to get you to this state of no return.

“Talk to me sweetheart,” He started, letting one of his hands come to hold your trembling one, giving you a firm squeeze. “What can I do to make it better?” He implored, just wanting to make whatever that was hurting you stop.

The desperation in his voice made another sob rip out from chest, face pinching into something painful as you hung your head low and wept as quietly as you could. You felt so weak and helpless, hating that you pushed yourself to the point where you made the one person who vowed to always be there for you feel as though he wasn’t.

“Babe, shhh, hey c’mon,” He murmured, immediately wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you close to him and burying your face in his chest, “It’s okay. I’m right here, baby. S’okay.”

You hadn’t said anything just amounting yourself to a mess of tears and unspoken feelings, not knowing how you could possibly articulate what you had been going through all this time.

“I—I’m sorry,” You muffled against his chest, causing him to pull away slightly, just to look at you and shake his head wondering why you were apologizing.

“You don’t have to be sorry baby—”

“I’m fucked up, I know I am.” You blurted out, a cruelty in your voice Steve could tell was directed towards yourself, not him.

“I-I’ve been so caught up with school and work that I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend, but I swear—”

“Hey stop it.” He didn’t let you finish, furrowing his brows, determined to make you understand the words you were saying about yourself weren’t true.

“This isn’t about you not being a good girlfriend. You’re so good to me, baby and I promise you whatever it is that’s going on, isn’t because of that. Talk to me. Don’t be scared.”

He assured you with warm circles rubbed over your back, just wanting you to focus on your feelings and not on what you thought you were making him feel. The only thing that mattered to him was understanding you, and how he could fit himself into the puzzle to make it all better.

“I’m just so tired,” You broke down once again, “I don’t feel like myself anymore, and even when I look at myself…I don’t see me.” You croaked, voice breaking in between words.

“All I want to do is relax, but my brain is just on a live wire where I can’t stop thinking and then I start spiraling. If it isn’t school, then it’s work, and if it isn’t work, then I’m thinking about all of the others things I don’t have time for in between school and work.” You heaved, just feeling the panic and frustration arise at the mere conversation.

He hated how he could see the contempt you had for yourself. Fingernails biting into the palm of your hands and a deep-seated frown over your lip, as if you wanted to crawl out of your skin to be someone completely different. But there was no one like you, in his eyes. Whatever it was that you were going through he was going to stand beside you and help you get back to feeling like yourself, the girl he couldn’t imagine living without.

“I’m here for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” He murmured, pushing the tear soaked strands of hair out of your face. “You work so hard all the time, you deserve a break.”

“I can’t,” you cried, shaking your head, rubbing exhaustingly at your eyes, “I physically can’t. I can’t fall behind when I already am.”

You wanted to listen to his advice, the knowing that deep down he was so very right, but you couldn’t look past the idea of letting people down and falling behind when you knew it was impossible to play catch up.

Steve knew how you operated on a one track mind to get things done and out of the way, which was obviously ideal. However, the amount of physical, emotional, and mental strain the work ethic had put you in was enough confirmation that he needed to step in before it got worse.

“Listen to me, hon,” He said tenderly, grasping your face in his hands, “You need a break. I’m not saying you have to abandon everything, but you need to take it easy on yourself. Learn how to step away and breathe. You’re going to work yourself to death if you keep this up…and you know I can’t live without you.”

His sentiment was true and sweet, something he was able to be at all times, even at times like this.

“I’m not going to let you fall behind, baby.” He promised you, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks, pressing a chaste kiss over your lips before he continued, “I’ll help you and we can take it on together, but you can’t keep stuff like this from me okay? The last thing I ever want you to feel is like you have to do it all alone.”

You sniffled, nodding as you swallowed back the lump in your throat, hiccuping slightly, “I-I know, I’m just usually so good at taking on everything, but I don’t know what happened.” You admitted with a shrug.

He nodded understandingly. “You might not feel it, but you’re overworked and that’s okay. I’m going to be here to help any way I can. With school, with work…with breaks.” He smiled softly.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” You stared up at him apologetically, wishing you hadn’t waited so long to tell him, knowing that he was always your number one confidant and supporter through everything.

Still, he shook his head, caressing your cheeks, “Don’t apologize, I’m here now and I promise it’s going to get better.”

He held you in his arms a little longer, letting you cry the rest of your tears into his chest, before suggesting to head up to your room. Agreeing, he grabbed a fresh cup of water to keep at your bedside before following you up the stairs and into your room.

Books and papers were sprawled out across your desk, hinting to him what had gone down before you called. He knew that school was beginning to take a toll on you with bigger projects and finals approaching, but had no idea it was getting worse and worse as the days passed by—but no longer, not with him around.

“Let me just…” You spoke under your breath, heading towards your desk to get everything cleaned up, now that Steve was spending the night and not wanting him to deal with the mess.

But he was quick to stop you, grabbing you gently by the wrist before you could even close the textbook, causing you to follow his lead to your bed.

“Hey…” He murmured, setting the cup down on the small table beside your lamp, “we’ll figure it out in the morning okay?”

“Hmm,” You hummed with a nod, letting him situate you into bed before toeing off his shoes and getting in beside you.

You turned to face him after he switched off the lamp, encasing you both in complete darkness. Eyes adjusting to the light, enough for you to make out his face, eyes closed peacefully, as his arms went instinctively around your frame, pulling you closer into him—the feeling you had been missing so desperately, wondering why you ever even thought to push it away.

“You know I’ll be here whenever you need me, all the time okay?” His voice broke the silence, nuzzling his face closer to yours, hoping you knew how true every word was.

“I know,” you promised, jutting your chin up to press a kiss to his lips that he smiled into, kissing you back a little harder wanting you to remember the feeling and that alone.

All the stress still lingered in the back of your mind, but the feeling that consumed wasn’t the fear or the exhaustion that had been weighing you down. It was the knowing that you were allowed to feel your feelings around Steve, and the security to know he was your person, rain or shine—and that in itself was enough for you to know it was going to be okay.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: very short one shot in honor of seasonal depression doing its big one on me...but don't worry im surviving through my safe space fiction characters!!! i hope you are all doing well and thank you again for sticking around!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[kyeomkuppie]

Me? Jealous? Pfft!

Pairing: Minghao x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a tinge of angst

Synopsis: in which you were jealous but your boyfriend knew how to exactly comfort you.

Why has he standing with her for over 10 minutes?! It wasn't like it mattered to you. Pfft! of course not.

You've known your boyfriend to be very respectful, so it wasn't like you didn't trust him, I mean he clearly carried the Victoria's secret shopping bag that obviously belonged to you. It was as if 'I have a girlfriend' was written in his forehead. But it didn't help that some thoughts were starting to invade your mind.

She was refined. Her back straight, making you suddenly aware of your posture. Her voice quiet, making you too conscious about you naturally outgoing nature.

And most importantly, she embodied everything you wish you were. But this wasn't the time to go through internal monologue of how you think she's better than you! She has been talking to your boyfriend like she has known him for 30 years.

You were starting to go over 30 ways to commit murder without getting caught but your boyfriend finally made his way to you, after, in your opinion, a conversation that has been going on for too long.

"I'm sorry if I made you wait." He smiled guiltily.

"It's fine." Your sudden quietness caught him off-guard, and for someone as perceptive as Minghao, it wasn't hard to guess that something was off.

The store names in the mall were suddenly very interesting and it was painfully obvious that you were avoiding his gaze.

"Baobei, are you upset?" He knew you were weak for that nickname and it was apparent from the rosy tint of your cheeks, but you were giving one-word responses, which wasn't like you at all.

"No, Why would I be?" You manged to fake a smile which pretty much looked like a grimace.

You scoffed "Me?Jealous? Pfft!"

"Did anyone bother you while I was talking to [girl's name]?"

Oh, so he also knew her name?

Unfortunately for you, he noticed the furrow of your eyebrows when he said her name.

"Or is it me?...Are you jealous?"

He raised an eyebrow at how defensive you suddenly got. You two were back to his car and as soon as you closed the doors, you knew he had something to say.

"Baobei, talk to me. You know I don't like leaving things unresolved." His tone was serious but still gentle.

"No- No, It's not something to resolve. It's silly and I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing." You bit at your fingertip.

"It isn't nothing if it makes you upset, please tell me." He grabbed both your hands.

"She was just so...you. She is everything I want to be and that just made me a bit insecure and it really isn't your fault and the fact that I didn't know what had you so focused on what she said made me feel...I'm sorry I'm being childish." You look down at your hands.

He raised your chin with two fingers and slowly pulls you closer. "First of all, she is the choreographer of our new comeback. She wanted to ask about my input for the choreography. And what do you mean she's so me? You're a part of me that could well enough define who I am. No other person could ever replicate whatever you could do to make me feel how I do."

At this point these words were too much for you, and how he described you so romantically wasn't helping in how red your face was getting.

"Yes- I mean no and um you know-" You could no longer make sense of what you can say. You were too hyper-aware of the distance between you two.

He smiled knowing the buttons he pushed and decided to pull the final move.

He pulled you in and his lips landed on yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders and started kissing him like it was the last time. The slow yet desperate rhythm of both your lips was too much for you and when you suddenly pulled away a realization dawned upon you.

He could talk to a thousand girls and only you could get to devour his lips that way. You smiled to yourself at the thought but you instantly snapped out of it at your boyfriend's voice.

"Was it that good?"

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[mono-dontidae]

linger

c/w: situationships, no fluff, not proofread at all

a/n: half-assed i dunno lawl. do ppl still write & read haikyuu fics?

pairing(s): (!timeskip) suna, bokuto, kenma x !fem reader

suna

it was intoxicating. it was like a drug; addicting and horrible for your health. you both knew the consequences of getting into a relationship with one another. thus, why you both opted for a situationship. no full commitment was needed, it was casual, stress-free and cheating wouldn't be a problem. so, why did it hurt when he would see you smile at a guy after he compliments you? why would it keep him up at night when you'd look at a random dude the way you look at him? since when was it a problem that his roster wasn't filled by you enough? when were other women so irrelevant? he's never uttered these questions out loud before. it's casual afterall. dare i say he knew the answer to all of these; he's grown attatched. he didnt need an answer on how your pressence lingered with him to this very day and to make him constantly think this way. he grew even more distant when he found out how attatched you were. arguments arose on why he stopped wanting to hangout or go forth with how it's always been. then you grew tired of it. he wonders how was it so easy for you to say, "hey. i think we should end this." after finding some other random guy to date, to commit to, to love instead of him? something deep within him resonates and he knew he overdosed on you and the withdrawal symptoms are kicking in.

bokuto

loud and upfront. that's how it's always been with him. every moment together with him was forever an adventure. truly expressive with himself, he was a firework. he was bright, splashes of colour painting a dark night sky and always noticable by a well-known "boom!" in a distance. much like a firework however, he was quick to dissapear when the moment's over and proceed to reappear again, bright as ever. that's how it's always been. as amazing as it felt to be in his pressence, it was odd of you to forget how much of a big carreer he has. the kou you know has always been a sweetheart, not a famous volleyball player. you've always cared more about how he was when it was just the two of you. he'll always light up your world at first and then back up at the mention of a relationship, excuses about how his life-long passion comes first. thus, that's how it'd always be. the cycle repeats and the both of you go back into your situationship mishap. he never thought of it as a problem, he never understood why you wanted to make such a commitment to someone as busy as him. neither did he understood why, one day, you just dissapeared. why he felt so empty inside, so desperate to see you, so crestfallen at the fact you blocked his number alongside with every social media account he has and ever so confused at why you were leaving a lingering feeling onto him when volleyball has only ever been his focus. you're the firework of his night sky now, a thought of you igniting at a sudden and thinning when he remembers what had happened.

kenma

he was always busy. either it was with planning on filming and editing his youtube videos, checking with his stock-trades or uni, he was always busy. you were nothing but convenient to him though; a distraction, breath of fresh air or even a change of pace. he was never ready for commitment however, with how busy he is. but he hates it. it's always been boring and repeptitive. he's never liked 'boring'. he hates how typical his day can be and that's where you come along! a day together doing whatever, watching movies in his living room, laughing at random videos on his phone, doing self-care before heading to bed or even cuddling in bed with occasional kisses, he was always happy to hangout with you. but outside of his apartment? never. he doesn't want people to spot him with you and ask if you were his girlfriend. he didn't want to deal with the allegations and go through the trouble of making posts to clarify it either. he knew you thought of him as someone special and he couldn't bear the thought of letting this go on. he let you go and tried other women to fill his mundane schedule. yet, none of them could compare to the way you'd smile, the sweet kisses you'd press onto his forehead whilst being in each others arms, the pure ecstasy that he gets when he hears you laugh or the way your hands comb through his hair as you massaged hair oil during self-care nights. your entirety lingered onto him like a haunting memory. he'd never forgive himself for not taking the risk but after seeing your post the other day with another man, smiling the same way you used to smile at him, was enough. he had no one else to blame.

(ill keep it a buck, idek i just felt like making this & im sooooo lazy pffhahahahgagaja. lmk if i should make more & request me thx love u)

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Past the Finish Line: Into the Chicane [MV1]

Amidst the glitz and chaos of the F1 world and a very tense 2024 season, Max Verstappen and (Y/N) Sainz relationship faces a pivotal challenge. As racing pressures mount and emotions run wild, a moment of heartbreak leaves them questioning if love and ambition can coexist.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, So much Angst. Commitment Issues. Allusions to sex but nothing explicit. No happy ending.

A/N: Hi, Xim here. This is my first published fic and I hope you enjoy it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. This is pt. 1 of a three part mini series but can be read as a standalone.

Part 2. | Part 3.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

How did we end up here?

It was a question without an answer, one that lingered in the silence between them, thick and suffocating like the humid Budapest air pressing against the hotel windows. The suite was bathed in golden light from the city outside, reflecting the neon glow of the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

Max stood with his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. (Y/N), across from him, arms crossed over her chest, blinking back the sting of tears that she refused to let fall.

Love was supposed to be a partnership.

It was supposed to be about growing together, supporting each other, facing life’s uncertainties as a unit. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much history two people shared, no matter how deeply they had intertwined their lives, love alone couldn’t bridge the gaps that formed between them.

It had started with something small. It always did.

A simple question, an offhand comment.

She had been scrolling through her phone at the hotel, the post-race adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. The results had been disappointing, and she knew Max was frustrated—knew the weight of the season was pressing down on him more than ever.

But then she saw the article.

Verstappen Focused on Career, No Interest in Settling Down Yet.

She laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how absurd it was. The media speculated all the time, twisting words, exaggerating things—but this? This wasn’t an exaggeration. This was him, in his own words, saying everything she had feared.

“You could’ve at least warned me before telling the world you have ‘no interest’ in a future with me,” she had said, tossing her phone onto the coffee table.

Max had barely looked up from where he was unlacing his shoes. “What are you talking about?”

She grabbed her phone again, shoving it toward him. “This.”

He skimmed the article, expression unreadable. “It’s just media nonsense.”

“Max.” She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “It’s your quote.”

He exhaled sharply, tossing his shoes aside before leaning back against the couch. “I told them what I’ve been saying for years. My focus is on racing. Everything else can wait.”

Her stomach twisted. “Everything else?”

He looked at her then, brows furrowed. “You know what I mean.”

Did she?

Because standing here, listening to him say it like that—like their future was something to be indefinitely postponed, something unimportant—it didn’t feel like she knew anything at all.

“Do I?” she asked, voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like I’m just supposed to keep waiting while you decide if I fit into your perfect little plan.”

Max ran a hand down his face, already exasperated. “Why are you making this a big deal? You know how important this season is.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I know how important racing is to you, Max. I’ve always known.”

It was the unspoken part that stung.

But do you know how important I am?

His silence answered that question for her.

φ

AUSTRALIA, 2015

The first time she met Max, he was just a boy with sharp blue eyes and a cocky grin, standing next to her older brother in the paddock. She had been fifteen, barely old enough to understand the world she had grown up in, but something about him had intrigued her.

Carlos had been the one to introduce them, laughing when Max—seventeen and already making a name for himself—had barely glanced at her before shaking her hand with a distracted nod.

She had rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and muttered something in Spanish under her breath. Whatever it was, it had caught Max’s attention, and for the first time, he had really looked at her.

“You speak Spanish?” he had asked.

“She’s my sister,” Carlos deadpanned. “Of course she does.”

Max now had a flirty smirk. Carlos had groaned, but (Y/N) just laughed, not knowing then that this arrogant Dutch boy would become the love of her life.

φ

They had fought before. God, they had fought. Stubbornness was ingrained in both of them, but this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t an argument that would end in tangled limbs and whispered apologies in the dark. This was something breaking—cracking apart at the seams, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it together.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper—something that made her stomach twist painfully. “You think now is the time for this? Right now, when everything is going to shit?”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, nails digging into her palms. “I think now is the time because I can’t keep waiting for a ‘right’ moment that never comes.”

Max scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, already damp from the heat. “So what? You want me to deflect from the championship with this? With fucking marriage and kids?”

The words were a slap.

She staggered under the weight of them, blinking as if that would somehow make them disappear. He didn’t mean it, she told herself. He was angry. Stressed. But the way he was looking at her—like she was asking for something outrageous, something unreasonable—made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“I’ve been with you for eight years,” she whispered, voice shaking despite herself. “Through everything. I have given you everything, Max. And you act like I’m some… inconvenience?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, and suddenly she was drowning in memories.

φ

SILVERSTONE, 2019

The energy at Silverstone was electric, the summer air thick with heat and anticipation. The race had been brutal—wheel-to-wheel battles, aggressive overtakes, and tensions running high.

(Y/N) had been in the paddock, watching the post-race interviews, still grinning from the chaos on track. Max had fought like hell against Charles, the two nearly colliding more times than she could count.

Carlos, standing beside her, let out a low whistle. “That was some proper racing.”

“Some proper reckless racing,” Lando chimed in, shaking his head with a smirk. “I swear, those two act like they have a personal vendetta.”

(Y/N) laughed, arms crossed as she watched Max approach from the media pen, Charles a few steps behind him. The Monegasque caught her eye first, giving her a knowing look. “You should keep your boyfriend in check. He drives like a lunatic.”

Max, overhearing, scoffed. “And you don’t?”

She stepped between them, rolling her eyes. “Are you two seriously arguing again? You just got out of the car.”

Charles smirked. “It’s called passion, Dolcezza.”

She shook her head but smiled, glancing at Lando, who was already pulling out his phone to film whatever chaos was about to unfold.

Then she felt Max’s arm loop around her waist, pulling her into his side. It was natural, instinctive—like muscle memory.

She looked up at him, arching a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding Charles that you’re mine,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway.

Lando, never missing an opportunity, pointed his phone at them. “Aww, look at you two. So cute.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s go debrief before you and Charles start throwing punches.”

As the group walked off, she stayed behind for a second, looking back at the track. The adrenaline, the heat, the pure joy of racing—it was everything Max loved.

And she loved him.

Back then, she had believed that was enough.

φ

“Do you remember Silverstone?” she asked suddenly, voice thick with emotion breaking the silence.

Max blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“2019. After the race.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Because back then, you wanted me by your side. You wanted a future with me. And now…” She gestured helplessly between them. “Now I don’t even know if I fit into your life anymore.”

Max stepped forward, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair, Schatje. You know I want you with me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Do I? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man who only prioritizes me when it’s convenient.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve built your entire life around racing, Max. And I’ve let you. I’ve supported you through everything, sacrificed parts of myself just to be what you needed. But when do I get to be a priority? Do you even think about a future with me anymore?”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Max exhaled, shaking his head. “I can’t do this right now.”

She flinched.

Not I don’t want to lose you.

Not We can figure this out.

Just I can’t do this right now.

And that was all she needed to hear.

She looked out the window as the sun set, trying to hold on to the remaining pieces of their relationship.

φ

BARCELONA, 2016

It happened in Barcelona, after the race. It wasn’t anything grand or cinematic. No fireworks, no dramatic declarations of love—just two teenagers who had spent months circling each other, neither willing to admit what had been obvious to everyone around them.

They had been walking through the Red Bull hospitality area late at night, the paddock nearly empty. (Y/N) had teased him about his race start, and he had nudged her shoulder in response, grumbling about how she and Carlos always ganged up on him.

Then, suddenly, the air shifted.

She had looked up at him, at those sharp blue eyes, and for the first time, there had been no hesitation. No fear.

He had kissed her like he had been waiting to do it forever.

And maybe he had.

φ

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head as if trying to take back his last words.

She let out a bitter laugh, stepping away from him, away from the suffocating weight of this argument. Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face, furious with herself for letting the tears slip free.

“I was there when you won your first race,” she said, voice quiet now, laced with pain. “I was there for your first pole, your first championship. I put my career—my life—on hold for you because I believed in us. I believed in you.”

Max flinched, just barely, but it was enough. Enough for her to see that he knew—deep down—she was right.

And yet, when he spoke again, his voice was cold. “I can’t afford distractions right now. Not with the way this season is going.”

φ

ABU DHABI, 2021

She had been in the garage, hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The final lap. The final chance.

And then—Max had done it. He was an F1 World Champion.

She had barely had time to react before he was running toward her, before she was in his arms, laughter and tears mixing as he spun her around.

“You did it,” she whispered against his shoulder.

He had pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers, grinning like a madman. “We did it Schatje.”

At that moment (Y/N) felt as if they were in heaven, as if with Max everything was possible. Nothing indicated otherwise, she was in heaven and nothing could have prepared her for the fall.

φ

Now she felt like a fool. 

His words echoed in his head like torment.

Distraction.

That was all she was to him.

She had loved Max since she was sixteen. Supported him through every win, every loss, every moment of doubt. And now, when she was finally asking for something in return, he was acting like she was asking for the impossible.

“I’m not saying we have to get married and start having kids tomorrow,” she said, voice tight. “I’m saying that after eight years, I need to know if there’s a future here. If I even matter to you beyond being someone who follows you around from race to race.”

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You know you matter to me.”

“Do I?” she challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Max. It feels like I’m just another part of your career, like I exist to be there for you but never the other way around.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stared at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and suddenly it was so clear. There was no answer to the question that had haunted her since the fight started.

How did we end up here?

She took a step back, then another, and Max didn’t move. Didn’t reach for her.

And that was it. That was all she needed to know.

“I hope you win,” she said, her voice hollow. “I really do. Because if you don’t, then you’ve lost everything for nothing.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving behind the man she had loved for eight years and the life she had built around him.

As the door clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the ghost of her presence and the sharp scent of her perfume in its wake, Max remained motionless. The silence in the hotel room felt suffocating now, pressing against his ribs with the weight of unsaid things. I hope you win. The words rang in his ears, curling around his thoughts like a vice, and for the first time in his life, victory felt like a consolation prize rather than a triumph. 

He exhaled, slow and measured, running a hand through his hair as if to steady himself, but the ache in his chest remained—something raw, something unresolved. He should have stopped her. He should have said something. But all that remained was the quiet hum of the city outside and the space where she had stood, her absence louder than any of the words they had spoken. What had he just done?

φ

MONACO, 2024 – ONE WEEK LATER.

(Y/N) moved through their apartment with practiced efficiency, collecting the last of her things. The space was eerily silent without Max’s presence—no sound of him pacing while on the phone with his agent, no distant hum of the simulator running late into the night.

She had always loved this apartment. It had been their home together, the place where they had grown from teenagers in love to adults navigating life side by side. Every corner held a memory—a lazy morning spent tangled in bed, a quiet evening watching the sunset from their balcony, a passionate night lost in each other's bodies, the scent of Max’s cologne lingering in the hallway.

But now, all those memories felt like ghosts.

She moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer. His shirts were still there, neatly folded. She hesitated before picking one up, pressing the fabric between her fingers.

It smelled like him. Like home.

Her breath hitched.

She had fought for them. She had given everything.

And Max… he had let her.

She placed the shirt back, smoothing it down with trembling fingers before shutting the drawer.

There was nothing left for her here.

Her clothes were gone from the closet. The photos of them that had once decorated the walls had been packed away. It was as if she had never been there.

And maybe that was fitting.

Maybe, in the end, she had always been a ghost in his life—something present but never permanent.

She exhaled shakily, picking up her bags. The apartment door loomed before her, the final threshold between the life she had built and the unknown future waiting beyond it.

As (Y/N) stood in the doorway one last time, she hesitated—just for a second.

φ

MONACO, 2020

The apartment smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the living room in golden afternoon light, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly beyond the balcony. (Y/N) stood in the middle of the half-unpacked chaos, a cardboard box in her hands, watching as Max struggled with assembling a bookshelf. His brows were furrowed in frustration, lips pressed into a thin line as he fumbled with the instructions.

"You know, for someone who drives at 300 kilometers per hour, you’re really bad at putting things together," she teased, biting back a laugh.

Max shot her a glare before tossing the manual aside. "I don’t need instructions," he huffed.

(Y/N) arched her brow. "That’s exactly what someone who definitely needs instructions would say."

With a sigh, Max slumped onto the floor, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this already."

She set the box down and moved to sit beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Maybe if you let me help—"

He turned his head slightly, eyes softening as he looked at her. "You’re really here," he murmured, as if the reality of it was only just sinking in.

She tilted her head, amusement fading into something more tender. "Of course, I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

The pandemic had changed everything. Racing was postponed, the world had slowed down, and in the stillness of it all, they had found themselves craving something more permanent. She had just finished her literature degree, unsure of what came next, but when Max asked her to move in, the answer had been easy.

"Are you sure about this?" he had asked her a week before, voice hesitant over the phone.

She had smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. "Max, I’ve basically lived in airports and hotel rooms with you for years. At least this way, I finally get a closet of my own. Besides, I can't spend another minute with my brother and Dad while on lockdown." She said with a laugh, Carlos protests could be heard in the Background.

Now, sitting in their new apartment, surrounded by boxes of their intertwined lives, she reached for his hand. "I think we’re going to be really happy here," she said, squeezing his fingers.

Max exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too Shatje. Me too."

And for a long time, they were.

φ

How did we end up here?

The truth was simple. She already knew.

She had loved him more than she had loved herself.

Love wasn’t always enough.

People grew, evolved, sometimes in different directions. Some fights were worth having, but others—others only proved how much two people had already lost.

Love wasn’t enough for them. No matter how much they had tried, no matter how much she had wanted to fight for them, it wasn’t enough.

And with that final thought and one last breath, she stepped forward, closing the door behind her, and walked away.

[kyber-crystal]

red thread || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and it’s made no exception for you and hangman. you’ve grown up together; there's not a day that goes by in which you aren't glued to each others' sides. as kids, you promised each other that if you were still single at 30 you'd get married. but when that day finally arrives, you wonder just how much things will change.

words: ~2.3k

warnings: nothing. unless you’re like me and commitment scares you, then yeah lmao. hangman is an absolute gentleman in this though :) biggest TW is my writing...sorry. idk what happened. some slight mentions of angst and injury but nothing graphic :)

a/n: mannn my writing has gone downhill idk how yall other talented writers do it. i wish i could write that well 😭but, i’m proud of this...plotwise, at least! (my fics are doing so bad for some reason while everyone else seems to be blowing up??? idk) btw, the first part of this fic takes place two years before tgm

It was 1:30 a.m, and you couldn’t fall asleep. 

It seemed that Hangman had the same idea as you as he told you to meet him outside the Hard Deck in five. The coastal air and Jake Seresin was the perfect combination to help you unwind, so of course you said yes. 

“There she is,” he grinned as he offered a helping hand. “My favorite fellow insomniac.”

“Nightmares keep you up, Jake?” you teased. “What’s the matter this time?”

“Same as you. Don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Hangman answered. “Can you believe it? We’re awake, and Fanboy and Payback aren’t.”

“Now that’s a first,” you laughed. “Thought I’d never live to see that day, but here we are.”

“We’re making history day by day.”

“You know…sometimes,” you breathed out as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I wonder what it’d be like if we never met.”

“Didn’t you ask that same question fifteen years ago?”

“We were much younger back then. It’s different now.”

“Well, then…I don’t like to imagine it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“It’d be weird. You’ve always been a big part of my life, so to think you almost could’ve not been in it…it’s weird. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” your voice trailed off as you lingered on the thought. You’ve always done everything together. How different would your lives be now if you hadn’t become friends; hadn’t stayed in touch through college? “But don’t be sad, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Hangman gave you a light punch in the arm. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

“You know, Y/N…there’s one more thing.”

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out,” he started. “Remember that deal we made when we were kids?”

“The one about helping each other bury a body if needed, or getting married?”

“The second one…I thought the first was a given since the day we met. That’s something all friends are supposed to do for each other, right? Bury bodies, hide their trails…all that good stuff.”

“What about the second one?”

“We’re turning 30 soon,” he recounted. Any and all traces of cockiness were completely wiped off his face. “And we said that if we’re both still single by the time our 30th birthdays roll around, we’d get married.”

You smiled as you revisited the memory: wide-eyed and curious, and so blissfully unaware with the only worry in the world was whether you’d grow up together or not. “You still remembered all that?”

“Of course I did. You still in, or what?”

“I guess so…I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

The two of you fall back into your comfortable silence, and he wraps you up into his arms. 

TWO YEARS LATER

As usual, the base is busy and rather chaotic: day after day you’re busy filing reports and training. This causes you to become prone to forgetting the littler things in your life, so you assign Bob to keep track of them for you. He had the best memory of anyone you knew—that man kept mental notes of everything. 

“What do I have to do today, Floyd? Any events…”

“Uhhh…” Bob thought for a moment as you took a long drink of water. “Dinner with Phoenix. Do laundry. Don’t get yelled at by Cyclone for the 19th time (You’re only one point behind Bradshaw, he’s at 20). Grocery shopping. And most importantly…yours’ and Hangman’s birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I completely forgot,” you swore under your breath. “How could I forget…”

“You have some time, so don’t worry. Five days.”

“Only five days?” your eyes widened. “I have to run through four more simulations over the next two. I can’t plan everything in the remaining three.”

“If you pay Garcia in Doordash deliveries, he’ll help out. You know he minored in art.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

After you finish your final exercise that week, you pass out, but luckily, Hangman’s right there to catch you so you don’t get a concussion. Bless that man—he always seemed to be around wherever you went and you were very grateful for it. 

You were delirious and couldn’t walk straight, so as much as you claimed you were okay, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“I’m taking you home because you’re in no condition to be wandering around by yourself. The birthday planning can wait. You’ve tired yourself out enough as it is and you don’t want to make things worse.” So you let him help you get into his car, then drive you home and lead you inside. Then, he forced you to go upstairs to take a hot shower and relax while he cooked up dinner for you. 

Though Hangman admired your determined spirit, it scared the hell out of him because you wouldn’t know when to stop yourself. 

“I got that from you though! Who’s the one I spend the most time around?” you’d claim in response to that  argument. You weren’t wrong—it was a quality you picked up from him many years ago.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of French toast and jam, which lessens the tension in your shoulders right away. Amidst the early morning light drifting through the windows he stands out like a priceless work of art in a museum. You struggle to tear your eyes off him. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you rested your chin on his shoulder and exhaled. “Hey.”

“Morning. You sleep okay? How’s that headache of yours?”

“I’m alright.” You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar. “This smells nice.”

If Hangman was tired, you couldn’t tell. “Woke up at 6:30 to relearn the recipe for you. It’s been a while, it took three burnt batches to get the hang of things.”

“You woke up an hour early to cook for me?” 

“Why else? Of course I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat down at the kitchen island together and ate your breakfast in silence. Something about this moment feels more domestic than all the others you’ve shared in the past, and you can’t help but smile. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity like this...

“Y/N, there’s some honey on your chin.”

You blinked, trying to find it. “Where?”

“Hold on a sec.” Hangman took his napkin and rubbed gently at the corner of your lip to wipe it off. For a brief moment, you could feel his warm breath fanning across your face. You stayed as still as possible. “There.”

If anyone looked in from the outside, it was another simple day in the life of a longtime couple. But for you and Jake, it’s always been like this. Showing up at each others’ place wasn’t unusual for either of you; if anything, it was quite normal. 

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah. You got any ideas in mind? For the big day.”

“Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Funny enough, that’s what I was about to tell you,” he replied.” 

You locked eyes with each other and laughed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.”

Less than three days until everything as you knew it would change forever...if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified. What if he changed his mind and left you in the dust, all alone? You weren’t ready to face the cold truth. 

Hangman offered a simple celebration: food and drinks at the Hard Deck with the crew, then some karaoke if you were up for it after. He starts it off by serenading you at the bar, reaching a hand out to you as he sang your favorite Billy Joel track. You let him lead you out to the dance floor and spin you around, and he’s equal parts addicting as he is entertaining. 

Thirty candles, and you agree on blowing out fifteen each—somehow, by some miracle, you manage to do exactly that, and it’s perfect. Then Fanboy yells that he and Rooster want a rematch with you in Just Dance…so you go at it for two hours straight, until sweat is dripping down your face and your sweater grows hot. 

You’re burnt out, and he can see the look in your eyes as you step aside to let Phoenix play. “You want to head out? There’s something I want to show you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gives Maverick a look, and the captain shoots him a subtle nod in return. He takes this as his signal to put his hand on the small of your back and lead you out the door. 

You can’t help but laugh a little as you get outside. “Is this Mav’s motorcycle?”

“No…” Hangman shifts from foot to foot, feigning cluelessness. 

“Did you steal it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s his, isn’t it.”

“Look, he let me borrow it for the night. It’s not stealing if he says it’s okay…besides, he never noticed when I did steal from him last week—”

“What did you—do you even have a motorcycle license?”

“Got it a year ago. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll take my best girl on a ride someday, so who knows if it’ll come in handy’. So here we are now.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Alright, now come on.” He swung his leg over the side and motioned for you to sit behind him. The cushion was not in fact, cushiony, and you found yourself growing colder by the second.

The bike burst forward without warning. You let out a small yelp and immediately wrapped your arms around Hangman’s waist—which was ridiculously firm…had he been working out more lately?—as you went speeding down the road. 

“If I die, I’m gonna kill you and haunt you in your sleep,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Even in death, I’ll stick to you always.”

“That sounds both morbid and weirdly romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes later you found yourselves by the cliffs, standing high over the ocean, and deja vu hits almost right away. After we go on this make up date, he had said, I’m going to find that guy who messed you up and mess him up. Then we’re going to go home, I’ll let you wear any of my sweatshirts you want, and we’ll watch true crime. One where someone like that jerk dies. Okay? Okay.

You’re miles away from Top Gun, miles away from your jet and your uniform and everything you’ve ever known, but you’ve never felt more at home than now. It’s in this moment in which you realize all you really need in the world is Jake, the sky above you, and the sea below you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that he’s getting fidgety. He can’t stop stuffing his hands in and out of his pockets or running them through his hair—he’s restless. The action takes you by surprise a bit. 

“Why are you all tensed up?” you questioned. “It’s just me and a nice sunset. We’ve done things like this many times.”

“But it’s not just you and a sunset,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be asking you the most important question of our lives. That’s a big deal, sweetheart.”

Your heart spluttered to a stop. “Are you…”

“Let me finish,” Jake cut in. “If you could be quiet for a few minutes…that would help. I’m nervous.”

“Jake Seresin, nervous?” you teased. “That’s a first.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Give me a break.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice…for now.”

“I haven’t slept at all in the past week. I went to eleven different jewelry stores around San Diego but nothing seemed to scream ‘Y/N’. So, I decided to take a trip out of state.” He cleared his throat, and reached into his jacket pocket. You saw his hand shake as he did so. “Out of the country. That mini mission I went on while you were training? I was in Canada. Victoria, to be specific. Maverick and Rooster came along to help out.”

Now in his hand was a small velvet box, and inside was the most breathtaking ring you’d ever seen. “Diamond and ruby. They don’t sell plain red strings for rings…so I had them design this. The red thread of fate…the one that brought you into my life. We were kids when we promised to spend our lives together, if circumstances permitted. And I know we might’ve been young, but I’d be lying if I said I could imagine myself with someone that wasn’t you. There was a part of me that wished you wouldn’t find anyone before this day came along. It’s you, Y/N. It always has been.

“I’m not going to get down on one knee. I’m not going to give you a long, cheesy speech about divine power and soulmates. But I’m going to tell you this: you’re my forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s getting cold out so I’ll cut to the chase: what I’m saying here is that I’m asking you to marry me.”

The world fell silent as you replied with a shaky nod, holding out a trembling hand as Jake slid the golden band onto your ring finger. Neither of you made a sound, and you swore you felt time stop and the ground crack wide open beneath your feet.

tags, including those who may be interested: @callsignbarb @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @dilfsandtherapy @purelyfiction @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @newlibrary @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @thisismypointofview @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @lunamooncole @coastingline @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @midnightdevotion @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @cosm1cfae @tallrock35 @uwiuwi @elenavampire21 @aerangi @hoedameronsworld @whotfatemywaffles @littlebadariell

[deathmetalangel]

HARDLY SEEMS FAIR

robby keene x fem! reader

warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty

“in what world is that fair robby?"

oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(

Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 

It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 

She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."

He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.

"I kissed Sam Larusso."

Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.

"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"

A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.

"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."

He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."

Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."

"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."

Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.

Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."

"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.

"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."

Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.

She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.

"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."

He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.

Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.

He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.

Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.

[goodgirl4daddy4evr]

Hypnotized lesbian sucks Priest off before her wedding

Tw: religious abuse. Are you gay? Have you been told you're going to hell for being gay? Does that trigger you?

I was given this prompt by @kingofobsidian 🥵

I was getting ready for my big day. I wasn't sure it would ever come. Or include me in a dress, marrying another woman in a dress, in her family's church. Her parents took her to a very open and affirming church that my soon to be wife felt safe coming out in when she was a teenager and now felt joy to return to so we could celebrate our love. I hadn't been to church in a while but we'd been doing counseling with the priest in preparation for marriage. He was so nice, I really felt like I could be open with him about my fears and insecurities. It helped us talk about them as a couple. We each would have our own recordings to listen to about marriage and the commitment we were making. I would always zone out listening though so I'm not sure how helpful they really were. My finance felt the same.

I was in the recreational area bathroom when I asked my maid of honor and friends to give me some time alone to reflect. My strapless dress was not staying up over my titties that well, we had to use some tape and I was fiddling with it when I noticed it in the mirror again. I'm startled out my headspace of frustration at my chest's incompatibility with strapless tops when there's a knock at the bathroom door. "Hello, Becki? It's Father Tom. I just wanted to check in on you. May I come in?"

I look at myself in the mirror, my bleached blonde hair half up, and share a confused look with myself before turning towards the door. Father Tom looked like he always did, all in black with his white collar poking out. Now that I think about, I don't remember if he has to change too. He smiles and chuckles, looking at my chest.

"Oh Becki, your dress is a little lopsided."

"Ugh, is it really that noticeable?" I turn back to the mirror and inspect the dress while I notice my worried look. Father Tom comes up behind me and I don't notice he's reaching out to touch me until he is. I look up in the mirror to see him tower above me and his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are starting at my titties in the mirror.

As if his stares could cause it, the tape finally unstuck on one side and most of my left titty popped out.

"Oh my God!" I cover my nipple. I look at him. I turn around. "Oh my- my- ah I'm sorry Father! I'm sorry I just- I'm just sorry!"

His hands came to lay on my back now and he's smiling again. "Oh Becki, sweet girl, you have nothing to apologize for." He looks into my eyes very intensely while mine are searching his face for an answer as to why.

"Remember, Becki? Remember?"

And that's when I drop my hand. I do remember. I look into Father Tom's eyes. They look so deep.

"Don't you remember, Becki? From your recordings? You know what marriage between two women is about don't you? Don't you remember, Becki?"

"It's about serving cocks together. It's when lesbians become a package deal for superior men. Women can't satisfy each other's needs. Only cock can."

"Ohh yes, you do remember, Becki."

That's when I feel myself pushed to the floor on my knees looking up at the first man I would ever service. In my wedding dress. Waiting for him to marry me to another woman.

He's unbuckling his belt as he speaks. "Now Becki, this will be just your first taste of cock. You'll be coming back every week for your sacrament, Becki, I want you to remember." His thumb rubs on my lower lip. "Now Becki, remember those recordings? I want you to think back to what they said, Becki."

"Start slow first. Lick all up and down. The wetter the better. Suck on the head. Suck on the balls. Use your hands. Open your throat."

He pets my hair before taking out his cock. I can't believe it. It's so much bigger than I thought they could be! It's like big tits! Big cocks only exist in porn! But I have big tits. Oh my god, do regular men have big cocks?

"Becki, remember..."

Father Tom moves his cock closer to my face I can't stop staring at it, it's so beautiful and I want it in my mouth so bad. I wanna suck and slobber all over it and suck his cum out so he put it all over my tits. I bounce and grind as I move forward and grab the base of his cock to lick all over his cock and get him nice and wet for my mouth.

"Oh! Becki I'm so glad your training took. I'll have to talk to your new wife after I marry you. Make sure her training took as well. You're both so beautiful. Made for taking cock. To marry you both would be sin if I did not claim you for my own. You thoughtless women denying your purposes. You should be grateful that I've saved your souls. I'm going to bless you with my holy seed and you'll need to receive this sacrament daily."

I look up with my big eyes, "Thank you, Father." and I take him in my mouth. I suck on the tip of his cock with my hand rubbing the base. I swirl my tongue around his head, tracing the part right where the head meets the shaft. When he puts his hand on the back of my head I suck him deeper. And deeper. And then my hand doesn't fit. I bob my head sucking from as close to the base as I can get to the bottom on the head and up and down and up and down. And hold. And up and down and up and down and up down. And hold.

It's when I start to juggle his balls that he grabs my head with two hands and begins to thrust in earnest. I finally understand what facefucking is. He's just using my mouth. Using my mouth to cum. He thrusts and thrusts and slows down and rolls his hips and thrusts and thrusts. Both my titties have fallen out of my dress and drool is dripping onto them from my mouth. My eyes are starting to water and it's starting to hurt. I'm making all these noises choking on his cock, looking up at him. He's staring at me.

"Look at me, Becki, look at me. Look at the man that has saved you. You will be blessed! Ohhh I'm putting it on your tits! I'm putting it on your tits!"

He lets go and I cough and gasp and catch my breath and look at him as he rubs his cock and lines up his cock head in the middle of my cleavage.

"In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, take your daily blessing, and may it cleanse you."

He unloaded his milky gooey white cream all over my flushed red titties. Spurt after spurt came out, more than I thought was supposed to happen. After he finished milking his cock I held up my titties to show off to him and he put his cock between my titties and rubbed his cum around.

"Ohh Becki, my child, I'm so glad I saved your soul for the Kingdom of Heaven."

He takes a step back and pulls out his phone from his pocket. I'm a little dazed when I hear the camera sound.

He chuckles "Now we can clean you up for your bride. Let's fix that dress."