#i did actually have to pause and do a 'wait a second... that's not right... right?'

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. you get me so high ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis during a livestream, dani plays it cool when a comment hints at something between you two, but later it’s clear things aren’t as simple as she lets on.

disclaimer daniela avanzini x 7th member!fem!reader, secret relationship (but there’s actually no relationship), closeted dani, slight angst

currently playing: you get me so high - the neighbourhood

it’s not a relationship, well, not officially. it’s not something either of you ever said out loud.

not when she kisses you in dressing rooms and pretends nothing happened two hours later. just reapplies her lip gloss in the mirror and smiles at the others like her mouth wasn’t just on yours.

not when you wake up with her legs tangled in yours, her head on your chest, and her voice sleepy and low as she mumbles, “this doesn’t count, right?” against your collarbone.

not when she lets you touch her like she belongs to you, but walks three feet ahead of you in the airport.

not when she tells you she thinks she’d fall apart without you, but won’t say a word if anyone else walks into the room.

but you know better.

you feel it. you feel it when her hand finds yours under the table, small and quiet like it means nothing, but her pinky always hooks with yours like it remembers the way your spine arches when she kisses you slow.

you feel it when she waits for everyone to fall asleep and then slips into your bed, curls into your side like it’s instinct.

you feel it when she watches you during rehearsals instead of the mirror.

you feel it when she smiles like she’s memorizing you, like it’s the last time. like she’s always afraid she’ll have to forget.

no one talks about it, but the others know.

manon figured it out first. of course she did. she watches everything. she caught the way daniela looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. like she’s trying not to want something she already has.

lara picked up on it soon after. she doesn't say anything, but her eyes follow the way you shift when dani enters a room, how your shoulders ease when her laugh finds you.

you don’t bring it up. none of them do. you don’t want to ruin whatever it is that’s been building between you and dani. quiet. hidden. careful.

something sacred, maybe.

something no one else is supposed to see.

something that doesn’t survive daylight.

—

the livestream is meant to be fun. it's just the four of you tonight. manon, lara, daniela, and you. you’re on the hotel couch in sweats and oversized hoodies, bare-faced and glowing from the stage high.

the lights are warm. the mood is easy. a bowl of popcorn rests between crossed legs. dani’s thigh presses lightly against yours, like she doesn’t even realize it.

manon’s holding the phone. scrolling through comments. laughing. lara’s leaning into her side, chiming in with answers.

'who’s the messiest member?' “lara, 100%,” dani says immediately. lara shrugs like she can’t even deny it. “i contain multitudes.”

daniela leans into you a little more when she laughs, and you swear no one else notices the way her pinky curls around yours for just a second. it’s featherlight. subconscious. maybe. but it happens every time she’s near.

‘who’s the clingiest?’ manon reads. “oh, that’s you, dani.”

“shut up!” dani laughs, tossing a pillow at her. “i’m not clingy!”

"you literally follow her around like a puppy," lara says, tilting her chin toward you, her tone casual, like she’s talking about the weather.

daniela’s cheeks flush. rosy-pink. she glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. you try not to smile. try not to look too much like you want to press your mouth to her flushed skin.

and then, manon snorts, squinting at another comment. "wait, this one, ‘my favourite lesbians 🙏’"

you don’t even get the chance to smile. don’t get the chance to laugh it off or lean your head into dani’s shoulder like you want to.

daniela cuts in too fast. too sharp. “pause. pause, pause.”

she waves her hand, grinning like she’s playing around, like it’s lighthearted. "i’m straight."

silence.

it lands like a brick.

manon freezes mid-smile. lara’s shoulders stiffen. both of them glance between the two of you.

you can feel the blood drain from your face, but you don’t move. you blink too fast, like that’ll keep your eyes from shining. your throat dries up before you can even think of something to say.

daniela doesn’t look at you. not once.

she stays facing the camera, still wearing that half-smile like she didn’t just gut you with five small words. like she didn’t call your hands home last night.

you laugh, or something like it. a breath through your nose, short and fake. you don’t trust your voice. you don’t trust anything right now.

you shift just barely to the side. enough that your knees don’t touch anymore. you fold your hands in your lap so she can’t reach for them again.

you feel manon’s eyes on you. lara’s too.

they don’t say anything. but you can feel it, they know.

they all do.

but daniela keeps smiling for the camera like it never meant anything.

—

after the stream, you don’t speak. you get up first. slip away without a goodnight.

you go to your room and close the door. you press your forehead to it and breathe like you’re trying to hold the pieces of yourself together.

you don’t cry. you’re used to this. this game. this silence. this pretending it doesn’t hurt when she disappears the second someone’s watching.

twenty minutes later, there’s a knock.

soft. like she doesn’t want to be heard.

you open it just enough to see her standing there in her hoodie, sleeves covering her hands, eyes tired. guilty.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that,” she says quietly.

your heart clenches. “didn’t mean it, or didn’t mean to say it out loud?”

she flinches. your voice doesn’t even rise, but it hits like a slap.

“i panicked,” she whispers.

you stare at her. the girl who’s kissed you like you’re the only thing that makes her feel alive. the girl who touches your skin like she’s trying to stay on this earth. “you panicked and said that?”

her eyes drop to the floor. “i didn’t want it to become a thing. you know how people are.”

your voice sharpens. “yeah. i do.”

you pause and watch her. the hoodie sleeves. the hands fidgeting with the hem. the mouth that knows every inch of your neck, now too scared to even say your name.

she looks up finally. her eyes are soft. watery. she opens her mouth. closes it.

"you get me so high." her voice cracks. "no one else does that to me."

your heart stumbles. because you believe her.

you always believe her.

and maybe that’s the problem.

you close your eyes, grounding yourself. “you said you were straight.”

she breathes out slowly, like it hurts. “i have to be.”

you meet her eyes again. tired. aching. “no, you chose to be. right then. in front of everyone.”

the silence is louder than anything she could say.

you wait.

you wait for her to do something. reach out., pull you close, tell you she’s scared, but not enough to keep hurting you. tell you this means more.

but she doesn’t.

she never does.

and that’s what breaks you.

you shut the door. slow. soft. final.

you don’t cry. not yet. you just crawl into bed and stare up at the ceiling.

you try not to think about how many times she’s held you here. how many times she’s kissed your wrist and whispered things she never says with the lights on.

you try not to wonder if she’s still on the other side of the door, hands trembling, too afraid to love you where someone might see.

she gets you so high. but the fall,

the fall is always yours to survive alone.

a/n: ngl…i thought billie bossa nova or twenties would win…oh how i was wrong

[sevsevteen]

The set was all soft lights and fake laughter.

You sat between Mingyu and Joshua, smiling on cue, answering questions about the group’s upcoming tour. The interviewer - elegant, poised, all teeth and charisma - nodded along enthusiastically.

“Oh, it must be so hard keeping up with thirteen boys, right?” she said sweetly. “They must carry a lot of your weight.”

You laughed politely. “Actually, we all pull our own. They’ve taught me a lot.”

The cameras loved that.

Flash. Cut. Cue applause. Wrap.

But once the red light on the camera faded, so did the interviewer’s mask.

She barely waited for the director to call cut before twisting in her chair, speaking low to her assistant just behind her - but just loud enough.

“God, finally. If I hear the word teamwork one more time, I’ll throw up.”

You froze.

Mingyu's jaw tightened beside her.

“All that rehearsed 'we're a family' crap. Please. Half the group barely talks during breaks,” she scoffed, tossing her cue cards aside.

The assistant awkwardly tried to whisper something, but the interviewer waved her off.

“She’s cute, I’ll give her that,” the interviewer motioned her chin lazily toward you, not even trying to lower her voice now. “Pretty face, decent voice. But clearly riding on their tails.”

The room fell still.

Wonwoo, who had been grabbing water bottles, paused mid-step. Hoshi’s smile dropped. Even Vernon looked up from his phone.

The assistant gave a nervous laugh. “They were trending, though. Their last album—”

“Because of the other producers behind it,” she cut in coldly. “Not because of them. I mean, let’s be real - if they were really that good, they’d be solo by now.”

That was it.

“Excuse me?” Mingyu said sharply, standing.

The room turned.

The interviewer blinked up, all innocent now. “Oh? Did you hear that?”

“Loud and clear,” Hoshi said, voice low with fury. “You don't get to disrespect our achievements like that.”

“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “Don’t get so emotional. I’m just being honest. I figured someone needed to say it.”

Then she stood - heels clicking on the floor - and added with a smirk, “Besides, what are you gonna do? Hit me? You can’t. I’m a girl.”

And then - a shove.

A bold push to Hoshi’s chest.

He stepped back in stunned silence, fists clenching. He didn’t retaliate - of course he didn’t - but the tension in the room sparked like lightning.

And that was when you stood up.

Calm. Controlled.

Until -

"Ah!"

A hard shove right back into the interviewer’s shoulder. Not aggressive. But firm.

Balanced.

Equal.

“I think you're forgetting that I’m a girl too,” you said, stepping between them and the woman. “I have just as much right to speak up when someone crosses a line.”

“You!” The interviewer lunged with her hands up.

Wonwoo was by your side in a second, pushing you behind himself. His arm half-shielding, gaze trained on the woman like a loaded weapon.

Seungcheol was on his feet a second later, stepping forward to catch her wrist in mid-air.

The interviewer staggered slightly, stunned for a beat too long.

“Try me again.” You threatened, gaze unwavering as you pushed Wonwoo aside lightly.

The interviewer opened her mouth - but before another word could leave her lips,

Wonwoo stood beside, voice cold as stone. “Say one more thing about her. See if your mic is the only thing that cuts out.”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol thundered, voice like steel. “We came here as professionals. And we expect the same in return.”

The interviewer scoffed, brushing herself off. “You idols think you’re invincible.”

“And you think hiding behind your gender gives you immunity,” Wonwoo said, voice like ice. “But harassment is harassment. If anyone touched her the way you just touched Hoshi, we’d be calling security.”

The assistant was already tugging her away, murmuring apologies. The woman huffed, storming off, heels clicking violently against the studio floor.

No one spoke.

The staff were frozen.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“This interview’s over,” Jeonghan said coolly, stepping in. “Thank you for your hard work, we’ll be taking our leave now.”

The team walked out together - you at the center, flanked by members who barely blinked now without checking if you were okay.

“Hey,” Mingyu said, nudging your hand gently. “That was a legendary move.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I just… I couldn’t let her say that.”

Jeonghan placed a gentle hand on your back. “You handled it better than any of us could.”

You cracked a tiny smile. “My hand’s still shaking.”

“It should,” Seungkwan said. “You could’ve sent her flying.”

“She should be glad it wasn’t Seungcheol-hyung,” Hoshi muttered.

From the side, Seungcheol cleared his throat, clearly hiding a proud smile.

You met his eyes and smiled - tired, but fierce.

With a reckless action like that, you knew you were in for a lecture when everyone got into the van.

But for now, you knew your members would have your back no matter what - and so would you.

--

[heartbreakgirl67]

So Much More.

summary: after kissing and revealing your feelings, you and bucky started to avoid each other. but, when the both of you get put into a mission that had the other worrying, those feelings start resurfacing again.

pairing: congressman!Bucky x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

content: banter, tension, angst, soft bucky, marriage of convenience, (used to be) enemies to lovers, brief mentions of childhood trauma, oblivious fools in love, protective bucky, protective reader, she looks at him like he hung the moon, he looks at her like she hung the moon

a/n: this is kind of a p2 to this but can be read on its own. someone asked me for a p2 that i wasn't planning on doing so this is it. hope you enjoy it!!!

@starstruckfirecat

You haven’t spoken.

For two weeks, five days, ten hours, and 54 minutes, you haven’t spoken with him.

But who’s counting, right?

Since the kiss, since the confession, not once did you both utter a single word to each other. You were hoping that he would have forgotten what had happened the night before, but when you woke up to an empty bed the next morning, you knew he remembered. And you knew he didn’t mean it.

But now you were both back where you started–in Congressman Gary’s office, in creaky wooden chairs, side by side. Except this time, it was silent. Eerily silent.

The congressman felt uneasiness crawling all over his skin, not used to the room being this quiet when the both of you were in each other’s presence. Usually it was loud, full of vulgarities and fallacious remarks about the other—and he oddly preferred that, missed it, even.

“Alright,” Gary uttered, taking the glasses off his face and wiping it with a small thin rag lying on the table, “I’m not exactly sure what happened here,” he directed his glasses between the both of you, “and I’m honestly not sure if I even want to know–”

“You don’t,” both you and Bucky muttered in unison.

Gary paused. “Right. Anyway, I need you to push that aside because you have a mission, which requires the both of you to work together.”

“Are you serious?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“I cannot work with…him.”

“She is insufferable.”

You gasped. “I am not! You seriously cannot be talking here, Barnes.”

“Well I am, ‘cause I’m right.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“You, um–you just are.”

“Wow, real mature. How the fuck you managed to become a congressman is beyond me,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I heard that.”

“Good. I wanted you to.”

He shifted in his seat to glare at you and you felt time stop. The first time you’ve actually looked at each other in a while. The words suddenly got stuck in the back of your throat, leaving your lips parted and mouth dry. Bucky paused as well, his body frozen and tense, as his eyes stayed glued to yours.

You averted your gaze to Gary, who for some reason had a small smile plastered on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed, “What’s so funny, congressman?”

Bucky turned to face him as well, wondering the same thing. Gary’s smile grew wider as he stood up, the chair screeching against the tiles. He placed his glasses on his face and walked towards the door. “Your mission is next week. I’ll email you the details later. See you, lovebirds!” and the door slams shut.

~~~

“I swear, I’m going to leave without you if you’re not here in the next five seconds!”

“As if. You need me,” you screamed back from your room. You lost it, again. The little gold bracelet. You were trying really hard to stay calm but as the clock ticked further away into the night, you found yourself unraveling.

“I have a metal arm. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you seem to have that for a brain too,” you retorted quietly.

“I heard that. What are you even doing?” you heard Bucky’s voice float into the room as his boots thudded through.

“I lost the…something,” you came out of the bathroom, going to rummage through your drawers for the seventh time.

Recognition flashed in his eyes. He walks over to you and grabs your shoulders to get your attention. 

“Wait, just give me a second!” you tried to turn away but he pulled you back. He slowly lifts his gloved hand before putting it into his pocket, slowly pulling out the bracelet.

“You–” you reach out to grab it but he puts it out of your reach. You look at him exasperatedly, eyes begging him to just give it to you.

Bucky grabs your hand, clasping it back on for you, pressing the clasp slightly harder than you usually would to tighten it. “There. Now you won’t lose it.” 

You didn’t answer, your hand playing with the band as you looked away from him, not really knowing what to say. 

The tips of your fingers stayed in his grasp, like neither of you wanted to pull away. “You know,” his tone was quiet and soft, “you still never told me why it is so special.”

You pulled your hand away. “We’re late.”

~~~

“In and out, okay?”

“I know, Barnes. I’m not five.”

“Well, you never know how to follow instructions.”

You loaded your gun. “That’s ‘cause your instructions suck.” 

Pulling up the mask that covered the bottom half of your face, you walked past him, going into the compound, but you only managed three steps before Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you back. “Why are you–”

“Behind me.” He pushes you behind him as he leads the way. You tried to slip in front of him a couple of times, but he blocked your move each time.

When the both of you successfully entered the compound, you agreed to split up to find any source of evidence. Anything that could possibly be used against Ms.de Fontaine. “Meet me here in 30 minutes. Nothing more. Understood?” he told you. To which, you waved him off and said, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” an answer he didn’t accept. “Understood?” he repeated, not allowing you to move from the space between him and the wall. You then proceeded to nod, and a quiet “I understand.” was said.

You dug through the stacks of papers scattered on the various sleek metal tables that were all over the room. Nothing.

It was like every scrap of possible evidence was removed and burnt off the face of the earth. You continued digging around anyway until you came across something that made you stop in your tracks–a crumpled black and white picture lying on top of a brown file. 

It was a photo of Bucky and Steve–pre-serum– and they were mid-laughing, all smiles and teeth. You’ve never seen Bucky smile like that before. You don’t think you’ve even seen him smile before, and the thought of that brought an uncomfortable feeling to simmer in the pit of your stomach. You quickly folded up the photo and stuffed it into your back pocket. 

You then picked up the file that was placed under it. It had the name ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ scrawled bright and bold in red on the front. Just as you were going to flip it open, a loud shot came from a couple rooms down. 

Bucky. 

You quickly swiped the file off the table and ran into its direction. Your mind was spiralling, panic seeping into your pores and flooding your bloodstream, taking up your thoughts bit by bit. All you could hear was nothing. Nothing. Silence. 

The second you reached what you thought was the room, you kicked the heavy metal door as hard as you could, and it came crashing down, the loud sound echoing all over the room. 

There you saw Bucky on one end and Valentina on the other, and the gun still steadily held in her right hand. You turned to face Bucky–hair strewn all over the place but he seemed perfectly fine. But he was tense, cold eyes burning into yours–angry.

“Well, if it isn’t the other half of my favourite starstruck lovers. And to think that just a second ago your lovely husband was telling me that he came alone,” Valentina said, walking closer to you. Stopping right in front of you, she reached a hand up towards your face.

“Don’t touch her.”

She clicked open your mask, letting it fall to the ground. “Relax. She’s all yours, loverboy.”

Your eyes shifted from Valentina back to Bucky again. He was staring at you–intently–but he wasn’t meeting your eyes.

Valentina’s eyes panned down to what was in your grip. She smiled. “What were you planning to do with that?” 

You didn’t answer, just subtly moving it behind you. 

Her smile widened. She turned to face Bucky, who was still frozen in his spot. “Aww, look at the two of you, being all so protective of each other, just–” a buzz in her pocket.

She reached into it and pulled out her phone. After staring at it for a couple of seconds, she sighed. “Well, I must get going. Responsibilities and all that,” she waved her hand, walking past you. She pointed between the both of you, “Adorable, really. Call me when you finally get your evidence, okay?” she added sarcastically, leaving you and Bucky alone in the room.

It was uncomfortably silent for a couple of seconds before Bucky quietly walked past you and out of the room. You chased after him–his large strides making it impossible for you to walk at a normal pace. “I found this file about you,” you said from behind him. He didn’t reply so you continued, “I think…I think that it’s about you during your Hydra days. And maybe even before? Experimentation, trials, history, and stuff like that. I thought m-maybe you would like to know. Or not. It looks old so I thought it could be the original. And that you could–you know, do whatever you’d like with it. Keep it. Burn it. Or something. Whatever you’d like.” 

You slowly stopped talking, seeing as if he weren’t listening to a word you were saying. The only sound that was coming from him was the loud stomps of his combat boots against the metal tiles and the faint creak coming from his metal arm.

The whole ride back was silent. You sat at the backseat this time, hoping that if he didn’t see your face, he would feel a little less hatred towards you–that you would be a little less of a burden for him to carry. You’ve never really felt like this in a long time, and especially never with him, despite never getting along. He’s always made you feel like an equal, like every step, every move, and every word that comes from you matters. But this time, movements tense, not talking, and disappointment hanging all over his face, you couldn’t help but let it consume you as it did when you were a child.

 So you sat there, with the file held close against your chest, never opening it.

~~~

The apartment door opens with a swing as Bucky speeds through, leaving you to trail behind him. 

You shut the door, placing the file on the coffee table, and following him into the kitchen. He had his back to you, gloves removed, flesh and vibranium pressed against the cool granite of the counter. You could tell he didn’t want to talk to you but you didn’t like him angry–especially when it directed to you. He got annoyed at you, yes, but never angry. But even without seeing his face, you could just feel it emitting from him.

“Bucky, I…” you started carefully, not wanting to push the wrong buttons, “I didn’t mean it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I–” you paused, noticing the way his shoulders tensed. “I don’t totally get it, but if you’re really unhappy about it, I won’t do it again. I promise. Tell me and you won’t have to worry about it again. Just please–please don’t be mad at me, Bucky.”

“Don’t say that.”

You got startled at the sound of his voice–low, heavy, his.

“W-what?”

He turned to face you. His eyes were red–not from crying, but from tiredness–accentuating the ice blue of his irises. “Don’t say that. Don’t beg me for anything. Don’t make me that important to you.”

Your frown grew deeper. He didn’t want you that much? You meant that little to him?

He saw the look on your face and immediately shook his head. “N-no. No. Not because of you, I promise. It’s me.”

“But you are important. To me.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Too bad.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Trying to read you, to see if you were lying–hoping that you were–but all he saw was truth. Laid bare, handed to him, pure and honest truth.

“Why?” he asked, the genuineness in his voice made your heart break. You didn’t like the way he saw himself, but then again, that’s how you noticed him.

You stepped closer to him, head tilting up to meet his eyes. “I don’t need to have a reason, Bucky. I don’t need to have an excuse to have you close to my heart. Because you are, and I want to keep you there forever. Although, I don’t think I’d ever be able to rip you out of it. I’ve tried, I couldn’t, and now I don’t want to. I want you there, stuck, forced to keep it beating till my dying breath. Even if I wasn’t in yours.”

He frowned like that was the most outlandish thing you’ve ever said. “You are.”

You knew he was just trying to not make you feel bad about it so you tried to change the topic. “Why were you mad at me?”

You could tell he knew exactly what you were doing, his eyes said it all, but he decided to let it slide–for now. He sighed, “I wasn’t mad. I could never be mad at you,” he mumbled, looking down at the ground, “I was just…scared, I guess. I told you to meet me in 30 minutes. It had been 32. You weren’t there. And then I saw Valentina, and I freaked. I thought she might have done something to you but then she asked me if you came with me, and I tried to convince her that I came alone. Then she shot the ceiling, knowing that you were going to come. I didn’t. Then you did. And, I don’t know, I hated the idea that you would risk yourself for me like that. But I shouldn’t have treated you like that. To make you think like that,” he looked back up to meet your eyes, “the thought shouldn’t have even crossed your mind. You’re so much more than what you believe you are. So much more.”

You weren’t much for physical touch, and you knew he was worse when it came to it, but almost like it was instinct, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms–tight–around his neck, pulling him flush against you.

Bucky froze, hands hovering over your back–hesitant and scared. Then, slowly, softly, like it wasn’t even there, he held you back. The heat from the fleshed hand penetrated through your clothes, as did the cool of the vibranium of his left hand, making your head spin in a way that made you want to hold him like this. Again. And again. And again. Till your bodies moulded as one and your brains turned to mush.

[literallypyro]

Good day my fellow tf2 enjoyer! Looks like im back again with another request. 👀🌈

Mercs reacting to "would you still love me if i was a worm?" 🥺❤️‍🔥

You are free to ignore me, but thank you again for indulging in my shenanigans 🫶

You have no idea how equipped I am to answer this request. I am not joking when I say I know exactly what to do. So sorry for the wait!

Hope you enjoy

The early bird gets the worm

Scout:

-Absolutely no hesitation "yeah, sure, why not?"

-It's like you asked him if he wanted to go to McDonald's. You could think he wasn't listening to you

-But then if you ask him what you said, he recites it word for word

-Pop quiz nobody knew he was prepared for

Soldier:

-You're kidding, right? The only thing that could make him not love you is if you were a communist

-Bro doesn't give a singular fuck outside of that. You could turn into a lamp for all he cares, and he'd lug you around wherever he goes

-He honestly doesn't give it much thought either. Some things are just simple facts. The sky is blue, snow is cold, honey bees pollinate, and he loves you. That's just how the world works

Pyro:

-Stares at you for a long moment. They're completely unreadable for a moment

-Muffled speech that sounds vaguely like "you're not going to start eating dirt, are you?"

-Yes, they would still love you, but they're mildly concerned now, believe it or not. Do you want to be a worm? What's going on here?

Demoman:

-Doesn't even process what you said at first. It's not that he doesn't understand or is too drunk. It's just that your question came WAYYYY out of left feild

-"Uh? Probably? I mean, you're still you, even if you can't show it, right?"

-Probably lies awake at night, wondering wtf possessed you to ask that

Heavy:

-Sandvich eating has been paused. He just kinda stops working for a second

-The look on your face tells him it was a genuine question, so he just sets his bewilderment aside and says yes

-He's not really sure why you asked that question, but something in his could sense it would affect your self-esteem in some way, and he'd rather die than hurt your feelings

Engineer:

-He actually knows what this is about, surprisingly. Bro's got more PhDs than most people have digits in their bank account. Did you really think how wouldn't immediately guess?

-He just hugs you like "I love you for who you are on the inside. I couldn't care less what you look like"

-Yeah, you're getting pampered for the rest of the day. He's not gonna let you be insecure. He's gonna do everything he can to make sure you love yourself as much as he loves you

Medic:

-Psych evaluation immediately (hypocrite)

-Once it finally clicks, he looks at you with an expression somewhere between pity and empathy. Now you simply have to tell him who made you think he wouldn't

-The next day, he's showing you these cool new organs that definitely don't belong to the last person who made you feel like you didn't deserve everything good

Sniper:

-Immediate and not ironic "yes." That's it. He knows what's going on cuz lowkey he would've asked the same thing if he didn't think he'd sound dumb

-Might not be super expressive, but you can tell he really cares and knows exactly how you feel. That's a big thing about being in a relationship with him, silent understanding

-He probably wakes up a little earlier than usual to make you a nice breakfast you haven't had in a while. He knows it's not directly related, but he wants to show you he values you so so so much

Spy:

-Doesn't understand whatsoever and refuses to answer

-Engie tells him what's up and suddenly Spy feels like a complete and total dipshit. He doesn't go find you immediately, however

-He waits because he has to set something up. A nice little private dinner for the two of you, fine wine, and an apology cheesier than France in the middle ages

[sleepinglionhearts]

It's been a day

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff. post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader, + special guest appearances from the seijoh 4 because i love them. 800+ words.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Oikawa squints at you, then at Iwaizumi, then back at you again. “Something's different.”

“First time we see you in almost a year, and you're already acting weird.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, pulling out two chairs for you both to sit down. “Nothing's different.”

“Glad to see leaving Japan hasn't changed you, Oikawa.” You chime in, sliding into your seat. It was a nice little cafe, not too crowded, but not empty either. The table Oikawa had chosen was tucked away in the back, right by a window overlooking the street, giving you a perfect opportunity to watch the people walking by.

“No.... no, something is definitely off.” Oikawa looks over to the other two occupied seats, searching for some sort of agreement from his companions. “You two see it, don't you? Something has definitely changed since our last meet-up.”

“Our last meet-up was last September. I think it would be weirder if we hadn't changed a little since then,” Matsukawa laughs, waving him off. “I mean, look at Makki's haircut.”

Hanamaki looks thoughtful for a moment, nodding at Oikawa. “Nah, I think he's got a point. You two seem a little—Wait, what do you mean? What's wrong with my hair, asshole?”

“Hey, I didn't say it was bad! Just... different.”

“So, different in a good way?”

“Uh... sure, if that's what you want to go with.”

“You—”

“This isn't about Makki's hair!” Oikawa interrupts, pointing an accusing finger towards Iwaizumi. He looks up from the menu in his hands, glaring back at Oikawa. “It's about them. Something happened between you two, didn't it?”

“Maybe they got engaged.” Hanamaki suggests.

“They have to be dating before they get engaged.” Matsukawa pauses, realization on his face. “Wait, is that it? Did you guys actually start dating? Do I owe Makki ¥2000?”

“You're all imagining things.” Iwaizumi says bluntly. “Now, are we going to order or not?”

Oikawa's suspicion doesn't waver, but the mention of food distracts him enough to begrudgingly let the topic go. He waves over a waitress, ordering drinks and snacks for the whole table. Once she is gone, the conversation shifts to Matsukawa's work, then Hanamaki's lack of work, then everything Oikawa has been up to in Argentina.

Throughout the visit, you sit back and relax, chiming in with your own anecdotes and comments every now and then. For the most part, you keep quiet, content with listening to your friends as they catch up. Ever since graduation, when you all went your separate ways, reunions with all five of you were few and far between, so you were just happy to be together once again.

You barely notice the time passing at all, until Oikawa is five-minutes deep into a rant about his new team. Iwaizumi looks at his watch and balks, standing up from his seat.

“It's already five.” He says, cutting off Oikawa's voice. “I gotta get going soon.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“Already?” Matsukawa groans.

“Both of you?” Hanamaki asks, raising an eyebrow. “You have plans you'd like to share?”

“He's my ride home.” You shrug, gathering up your things. “It was great seeing you guys though. We'll have to hang out again when you're all free.”

After your goodbyes, the two of you leave the cafe and walk the short distance to Iwaizumi's car. Once you're alone, you settle into a comfortable silence, accompanied by the quiet sounds of the city in the background. Without your friends' scrutinizing gaze, Iwaizumi walks a little closer to you, until your shoulders lightly brush. The slight touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you make no effort to move away.

“So, Oikawa seems to think something is up.” You say casually, watching Iwaizumi frown at the mention of his friend.

“He can think whatever he wants to think.” He rolls his eyes, holding open the side door of his car. “We don't owe him anything.”

“We do have to tell them at some point, don't we?” You continue, as you climbed into the passenger seat. “You of all people should know he's not going to shut up about it until we do.”

“Of course I know that.” Iwaizumi grumbled, as soon as he was sat in his own seat.

“So...?”

“So what?” He adjusts his mirrors, glancing over at you.

“Is he right?” There's a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's clear you find it much more amusing than he does. You lean closer, whispering the words like they're a grand secret. “Is something different, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head a little, but can't hide the small smirk on his face. His hand reaches out to grasp your chin, tilting your face upwards so he can press a slow, sweet kiss to your lips. As he leans back, there's a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I don't know. Has something changed?”

You laugh lightly, savouring the taste of his lips on your own. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[shidoglazer]

virgin!reader with a newly found breeding kink x experienced kaiser please please please (im actually sabrina carpenter)

first time

michael kaiser smut mdni breeding kink dumbification

rough sex degradation ＠shidoglazer

you weren’t the one to watch porn, let alone have weird fetishisation or kinks. you were inexperienced, nothing more then getting off at your fingers whenever you were pent up. but one day, when you were scrolling through twitter, you came across a video that for some reason, ignited a spark in you. a man pounding ruthlessly into a girl much smaller than him. then at the end, he’d pick up the phone and flash the girls glistening hole, buckets of cum leaking out of it. shit, you were feeling your clit throb after it.

you were imagining that with your boyfriend— kaiser, him just pinning you down to the bed while he oozes warm, thick cum into your hole without end. you kept rewatching the video with a pillow in between your legs, grinding against it softly.

this went on for days. touching yourself to the thought of kaiser cumming in you, filling your hole with warmth until the only thing you could think about when you were with him was him breeding you. eventually, after a few more weeks of craving him and enduring your urges, you finally snapped.

“..misha?” your head perked into his bedroom as he quickly paused whatever he was watching, turning his head over to your direction and stretching an arm out. “hm? cmover here. what is it?” you quickly scrambled to his side, sitting on one of his thighs as you fiddled with the fabric of your shirt, hesitating.

“i,, wanna try “breeding”, misha,, i know it’s embarrassing but,”

“ah ah ah.” he cut you off. “not embarrassing at all, sweets. tell me, d’you know what breeding means? what else do you wanna try other than breeding?” he sounded more intrigued than you did.

“um well.. it means when the man.. finishes in the girl, right? i don’t wanna try anything else.. just that.” you spoke timidly, as if he’d start laughing at you at any given second, which wouldn’t be surprising considering the type of person he was. but he didn’t, instead, he cupped your cheek and placed a kiss on your lips, one so tender, so gentle-

“hah, what a naughty fucking girl.”

(missionary)

“misha, i ccan’t! t’big, t’big!” you squirmed out underneath him. he was barely in halfway and yet just the tip of him was making you whimper like an idiot!

“mhm? my cocks too big for your little hole? shh, its okay, sweets. take it easy, its your first.” he leaned down to your level and placed tender kisses against your temple, his other hand trailing up to your cheek to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. “i know its hard, it’s hurts doesn’t it? michas got’ya. just a little more, mkay? can you do that?” and despite your hole being split open in half, you nodded in agreement. how could you not when he was being so gentle with you? it was just a little more, just like he said!-

“misha!! yyy-ou said jus a little!” much to your horror, he’s slammed his whole length into you. you were shaking, arching your back, trying to kick him off, whimpering all while his face was plastered with that stupid grin of his. and the worst thing was, it felt so fucking good.

“shuuush. don’t you want misha to breed your little cunt? thats what you wanted right? how do you want me to cum in you if you don’t let me put the whole thing in?” kaiser whispered beside your ear. of course, he wasn’t so mean that he wouldn’t wait for his girl to adjust to his length, he was huge and he knew it. “bbaby, move, please?.” you mumbled out, giving him the “go” signal

“mhm. gonna breed ya, kay?” he moved his hips backwards and slammed back into you, ripping a moan out of your throat.

“gonna make you a mama, kaay?” he slammed into you again.

“gonna ruin this pussy for everyone else, you like the sound of that? ” and again.

“gonna fuck you til you can’t cum without me.” he placed a kiss on your neck before starting to jackhammer his cock into your velvety walls, your arousal and his pre coating his dick that made wet, sticky and slicked noises whenever he slipped in and out.

“ffuck, y’hear that, sweets? your pussy loves my cock.” you were beyond saving at this point, reduced to a whimpering mess and a wet hole for him to use. your brain was practically mush as he kept pounding into you, the pleasure overtaking all your senses. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mouth fell agape but no sounds came out, your body completely limp under his touch; allowing him to move you into any positions he wanted ..

one of his hands trailed up to your cheeks and slapped it lightly, not enough to sting but enough to snap you back into reality. “look at me, dirty whore. you gonna cum soon? feel your pussy clenching around me like a fuckin life line.” his hand gripped on your jaw, squishing your cheeks together, forcing you to look at him straight in the eye.

“g-gwona chhuumm,, miisshaa,, bwreed me, please!” your words came out muffled and slurrish from how hard he was gripping your face. kaiser let out a chuckle, leaning down to capture your lips into a kiss. “yeah baby? dirty fuckin’slut wants me to breed her?” you nodded dumbly to his words, your hands reaching to the bedsheets to grip onto them as leverage, fearing you’d fall off the bed if he continued to fuck into you so hard.

kaiser let go of your face and held onto your hips, steadying himself before starting to slam into you again without hesitation or mercy. his orgasm slowly crept up, causing him to curse under his breath. “shiiit, gonna cum, gonna breed you, g’na- fuck! take it!” both of you reached your orgasms, kaiser held onto your hips and pulled you closer then before as a sea of his cum filled your hole with warm stickiness, mixing with your arousal.

he fell limp against you, still trying to bury his dick further into you as if you’d escape if he didn’t. after a brief moment of silence, both of you came down from your highs slowly as he gently pulled out of you, pulling you up to embrace your body in his broad arms, caressing any patch of skin he could find.

“liebe. you still with me? you ‘kay?” “hnn..” “good.”

★ masterlist

[notiddygothgf]

i.

★ pairings: dante (netflix dmc) x fem reader

★ summary: After a messy breakup with Dante and a year of silence, you've rebuilt your life from the ground up. Now, Dante's back, and one thing is clear — he's determined to make you his.

★ ❝ It's been exactly 365 since I've seen your face ❞

★ c.w.:dante being a little shit, suggestive content. not beta'd, reuploading bc it got taken down?

★ a/n:HIIIIIIIII!!!! okay so i put out a poll asking about how y'all would feel if i posted a dante fic, and omg. so many of you replied. so now here go ahead and take this shit!! damn!!! jk i want him so bad so yk i had to rush to get this done LMFAOOAOA. enjoy besties! if you're from around here, you know the drill. if not, please leave lots of comments, i love the spam and your praise gives me motivation to update quicker!!

★ w.c: 10k

pretty ; chapter index

YOU AND DANTE had a messy breakup. Contrary to how it may have seemed at the time of “The Argument” (as you had begun calling it), there was nothing sudden about it. It didn’t detonate like some sort of time bomb, but disintegrated rather slowly – like water trickling through the cracks in the cement, soft and patient, until one day everything just caved in.

It didn’t always feel that way.

When you had first met Dante, it was… effortless. (Some of which was the rose colored glasses’ doing, you were sure). He was cute as hell, first of all. He was funny, too. He had no problems laughing you right out of your panties on the first date, and… well, practically every night after that. He looked at you like you were everything to him – like a dream come true, like he couldn’t believe someone like you would actually have chosen him. You got along famously.

For a while, things stayed that way. Six months, in fact. Things were good. Simple. You’d wake up to his arms around you, his voice in your ear, calling you names that only sounded pretty falling from his lips – princess, babydoll, sweetheart. His stupid jokes – the ones that always used to make you crack a tired grin. He used to make time.

But, somewhere along the way, his job started taking more and more of him. Late nights began to bleed into early mornings. You’d wait up for him with leftovers gone cold and shows paused halfway through. At first, he apologized. Said he hated missing out on time with you. But then the apologies stopped, and so did the explanations. You’d go days without hearing from him. Sometimes weeks. You’d text—hey, you okay?, can you call when you're free?—and the replies would trickle in too late or not at all.

You tried to be understanding. People get busy, right? Life gets in the way. You told yourself that a strong relationship should be able to weather a few quiet days. But it was more than just quiet. It was absence. It was like he was slipping through your fingers and pretending he wasn’t.

And when you did talk, it was always surface-level. You’d try to tell him how it made you feel—how the silence scared you, how you felt like you were in this alone—and he’d get defensive. He’d say, “I’m doing my best,” or “You know how much pressure I’m under right now.” And you’d bite your tongue. You didn’t want to add to the weight on his shoulders. But the resentment kept building. You weren’t asking for the world. Just a check-in. A sign that he still remembered how to love you when things got hard.

The miscommunications started small. A forgotten anniversary dinner. A vague answer when you asked if he’d be home. But they stacked up like dominoes, one after the other, until the smallest push sent everything toppling. You both stopped speaking the same language. You’d say, “I miss you,” and he’d hear, “You’re not good enough.” He’d say, “I’m tired,” and you’d hear, “You don’t matter.”

Then came the argument. The big one. The one that split the foundation.

You were setting the table when he buzzed the apartment door.

It was 10:18 PM.

You stared at the intercom for a second before pressing the button to let him in. No words. No "I'm here" or "Sorry I'm late." Just the click of the door unlocking and silence.

You opened the door before he could knock. Dante stepped in looking like hell—literal hell. Blood on his sleeve, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, hair damp like he’d tried to rinse off whatever mess he’d walked through before coming to you. He smelled like copper and smoke and exhaustion.

Still, your heart lifted for a beat just seeing him. Stupid, soft reflex.

“Hey,” you said.

He nodded. “Hey.”

You stepped aside and let him in. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t touch you. Just dropped his duffel by the door like he was clocking out of something. The sight of him like this—tired, distant, barely standing—it tugged at something in your chest.

“I made dinner,” you said, a little too hopeful. “It’s probably cold by now, but—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut in, already moving toward the couch.

You stood in the kitchen for a second, hands still resting on the back of one of the chairs. Watching him. He sat with a grunt, elbows on knees, head in his hands like gravity was pressing harder than usual. You knew that posture. It meant don’t ask questions. Don’t start anything. Just let him sit in the silence.

But tonight… you couldn’t.

It had been a week. A week without him. A week of one-word texts, unanswered calls, and too many nights alone, replaying old conversations in your head trying to figure out when exactly he started slipping through your fingers.

“I waited,” you said softly. “I thought you were coming at eight.”

He didn’t look at you. “Got held up.”

You waited. Hoped for more. An apology. An explanation. Something that showed he realized this mattered.

Nothing.

You took a slow breath. “Dante… you can’t keep doing this.”

That made him lift his head, eyes hazy with irritation. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Ghosting me for a week. Showing up in the middle of the night like it’s nothing. Acting like I’m just supposed to—what? Pretend we’re fine?”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been working.”

“I know,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I know you’ve been working. Risking your life. I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care when you disappear. I can’t keep sitting alone in this apartment wondering if you’re alive.”

He blinked, like the words didn’t land right. Or like he didn’t want them to.

“You think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “You think I like being stuck in some sewer for three days bleeding out while some freak tries to tear me apart?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping forward. “But I know what it’s like in here. Waiting. Checking my phone every five minutes. Making excuses for you. Pretending this doesn’t hurt because I’m scared if I say the wrong thing, you’ll just disappear again.”

He stood then, sudden and sharp. “You think I want to be like this?”

“I think you don’t know how to let people in,” you said, quieter now. “And I think I’ve been trying so damn hard to hold onto something that doesn’t want to be held.”

He stared at you, breathing hard, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said finally.

“I didn’t cook for someone who wasn’t going to show up,” you said.

The room went still.

He looked away first. Scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Your voice cracked on that last word, and he looked at you again—really looked this time. And for a second, something in him softened. Like he saw the version of you that wasn’t angry or nagging or dramatic. Just hurting.

But he didn’t reach for you.

Didn’t say I’m sorry.

Didn’t say I missed you.

Just ran a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe this isn’t working.”

Not working?

Not working?

“You can’t be serious,” You huffed out a bitter laugh. Dante reached for you. You swatted him away. “You… We’ve been together for six months. What the fuck do you mean “Maybe this isn’t working”?”

He stood before you with his arms crossed, white hair still disheveled from his day, eyes narrowed, jaw ticked. “I mean that this…” He answered, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Isn’t working out. I don’t think– I can’t…” He swallowed, “I can’t be the man you need me to be. Not right now.”

“You’re gonna give up on us? Just like that?” You continued, still, with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Then, you stepped forward, raising a hand to reach out for him, “I love you, Dante. You’re not gonna fight for us?”

“This isn’t love,” He spoke, tone final, but the slightest trembling breath beneath his words betrayed his true feelings. His fingers slipped into his hair, trembling as they carded through his white locks and tugged at his roots. “Look at you– you don’t even see the problem. You shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not your boyfriend is gonna come back alive. You shouldn’t have to put your whole life on hold for me. You still have the whole world to see. I don’t want to have to live a double life anymore.”

“Then let me in!” You hissed back. Your arms were crossed, too. “Do you think I like feeling as if I don’t know the man I love? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders, Dante, if you just–”

“Enough,” Dante sucked his teeth. “I don’t want you wasting your life away worrying over me,” After a lengthy pause, he continued, “All we ever do is fight and fight and fight– I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore, not with you. You’d be much happier without me.”

He was probably right.

“Oh, fuck you,” you shouted, your voice cracking with fury, but even then, it wasn’t enough to hide the way your heart was shattering inside your chest. When your eyes finally met his, you knew he felt the heat of it—anger and hurt and betrayal, all coiled together like fire licking at his skin.

“You’re not going to decide what’s best for me.”

“Yes, I am,” he snapped, cold and absolute.

You took a step forward, trembling, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break. “You don’t know what’s good for my well-being,” you bit back, chest heaving. “You don’t even know what’s good for your well-being.”

That hit him. You saw it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, how his teeth caught the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on the guilt. Then he said the words that broke you:

“You could be so much happier without me.”

And just like that, everything inside you stopped.

Something in your gaze must’ve shifted then—something that startled even him. Because the anger didn’t burn quite as bright anymore. The fire was still there, but it flickered lower, smothered by something glassy, something wet clinging to your lashes. It was hurt. Real hurt. Deep, bone-deep heartbreak that swelled until your chest couldn’t contain it.

“Baby…” he sighed, and for the first time, his voice wasn’t sharp. His shoulders dropped like the weight of his decision had finally started to crush him. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. I just… I can’t live with myself knowing that one day I might not come back to you.”

You didn’t say it back.

Not this time.

Even if you wanted to. Even if your love for him still pulsed through every inch of your body, even if it begged for a reason to stay—how could you keep loving someone who was walking away from you like this?

Your lips parted, dry and trembling. You licked them slowly, like maybe the right words would come if you just gave them time. But all you could manage, hoarse and raw, was: “Take your shit…” You swallowed hard. God, it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could’ve done. “And go.”

He froze.

“What?” he asked, stunned, like he hadn’t expected you to mean it. Like he thought you’d plead. Cry. Kiss him one more time just to remember what it felt like. Like you’d make it easier for him to leave you.

But you didn’t.

“I said…” You looked up at him, every inch of you on fire, your arms folded so tight across your chest they ached. You could feel yourself shaking—fists clenched, breath shallow. “Take your shit… and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

And you meant it.

Even if it destroyed you.

You saw the pain in his eyes then. The flicker of disbelief. The way his entire world seemed to crumble at your feet. Two years. Two whole years. Twenty-four months of laughter, late nights, shared secrets, and silent apologies. A thousand soft I love yous whispered between sheets. A thousand more unspoken.

Was he second-guessing it now? Did he finally realize what he was throwing away?

YOU

|  Guys we’re going out tn.

When you reached the bar, it was still early. There were a few people here, but not too many. The low murmur of voices and clinking glasses provided the background noise that you desperately craved.

You grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, the burn in your throat just sharp enough to make you feel something—anything, really. It felt like you were drinking to forget, and the first sip seemed to help, dulling the edges of the ache, if only for a moment.

Your friends noticed you as soon as they walked in. They must have heard the difference in your voice when you answered their text. They could tell something was off, but they didn’t press. Not immediately.

The first drink turned into another. And another. You weren’t trying to get drunk; you were just trying to escape. To lose yourself in the clinking of ice cubes, in the low hum of the bar, in something that wasn’t him. But as the minutes passed, the alcohol didn’t do much to stop your thoughts from spiraling back to him.

You thought about the night before. The argument. His face, so conflicted, yet resolute. The way he walked away without even a second glance, as if he knew the decision he was making was the right one. How could he be so sure? How could he leave you like that?

“Another?” one of your friends asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She was smiling, but there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

You didn’t even think about it before nodding. “Yeah,” you said, a forced smile on your lips. "Just one more."

You didn’t want to talk about Dante. Not yet. You didn’t want to explain to anyone why you felt like the world had been yanked out from under you. But it didn’t matter. Your friends could see it in your eyes. They didn’t need you to say a word.

No, a year ago, your life changed.

So, you can imagine how it felt to walk home from a day spent at the grocery store, bags tucked beneath your arms, and see him standing there.

Dante.

It had been a year since you’d last seen him, and you were doing just fine. Really. A little grocery shopping to get your mind off the usual stuff, a bag of chips here, some pasta there. You didn’t need Dante in your life anymore, and if you were being honest, you were doing better without him. You had a boyfriend now, someone who didn’t make you question your sanity. Things were... uncomplicated.

That was until you turned the corner and saw him.

Dante. Standing there across the street, looking like he’d just stepped out of a scene from some movie you hadn’t signed up for. There he was, all messy hair and that familiar red coat, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You froze for a second, staring at him as if your eyes were playing tricks. Was he actually here? In your world, in your life, right now?

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? The universe had a sick sense of humor.

You immediately felt that familiar wave of annoyance—was it even annoyance? Maybe it was exhaustion, or some mix of both. You adjusted the grocery bags under your arms and took a deep breath. You were doing just fine. He was not about to mess with your day.

But Dante, being Dante, didn’t just stand there. No, he was coming toward you now, his long stride eating up the space between you with an unsettling familiarity.

Great, you thought, shifting the weight of your bags to one side as if they were the only thing that mattered right now. But in truth, you were already calculating the best possible escape route. The crosswalk? Too far. The alley to your left? Maybe, but the sidewalk was too narrow. Okay, girl. Focus.

You picked up the pace, shifting into a power walk as though your life depended on it. Sure, you looked a little ridiculous, but it was a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet. You weren’t looking back. Not now.

Behind you, you could hear Dante’s footsteps closing in, his voice trailing after you, “Hey, wait up!”

But you didn’t wait up. No way.

You’d moved on. You had a boyfriend now, someone who would never make you feel like a damn emotional rollercoaster. Someone who didn’t show up after a year of radio silence with that same unreadable stare, acting like nothing happened. No, Dante. No thank you.

Still, you could hear his footsteps, gaining on you. It was like an unspoken challenge. You had to admit, he wasn’t slow. But neither were you. You adjusted the bags once again—damn, this was turning into a workout—and picked up the pace.

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. You weren’t even going to acknowledge the way your heart still remembered his presence, the way it beat a little faster the closer he got. You weren't going to let yourself get sucked back into that mess.

His voice was closer now. “Come on, just—”

A sigh. You were really doing this, weren’t you?

A glance over your shoulder, just a quick flick of the eyes to see how much ground he’d covered, and what do you know? He was right behind you now, practically breathing down your neck. “I’m just trying to catch up, alright?”

Catch up? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or groan at that. This wasn’t a race, Dante, and you didn’t need a personal trainer chasing you down the sidewalk. You could already feel the annoying tightness in your chest. The one that had always been there whenever he was around, the one that reminded you of how difficult it had been to move on in the first place.

He was getting too close for comfort now, and you could already tell this wasn’t going to end well if you kept this pace. So, against every instinct telling you to keep walking, you slowed down just enough for him to catch up. You didn’t want to, but here he was, breathing like he’d run a marathon just to get you to stop. And for what? So he could talk?

He stopped beside you, his eyes searching your face with that all-too-familiar intensity. His chest heaved slightly, probably from the exertion, but you’d be damned if you showed any signs of weakness.

For a second, he just stood there, catching his breath. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes straight ahead, acting like you hadn’t just sprinted for your life.

“Alright, listen,” he said, voice softer now, “I know I messed up. But can we at least—”

You didn’t even look at him as you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I can’t. I have to go.”

And that was that. You didn’t need to say anything else. You couldn’t afford to.

You were done.

That night, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hair tied up into a neat little bonnet. The faucet was running – lukewarm water trickling out – but you weren’t washing up. No, you were standing there, letting the water drip down your eyes, your cheeks, your neck. You were staring at your tired reflection.

You should’ve been washing away the exhaustion of the day, but instead, you just let it fall over you, droplets slipping down your face, down your chest, almost as if you were trying to wash away the past.

But you couldn’t. No matter how much water hit your skin, how much you scrubbed away at your tired reflection, you couldn’t erase him. Dante. He was there, in the back of your mind, in the way your pulse quickened when you saw him again, after all this time. It had been a year, and yet, when you looked at him across the street, the world seemed to stop for a moment. It was like stepping back into a dream.

You hadn’t realized how much of your heart you’d given to him, how much of yourself you’d let him take. And then, nothing. No texts, no calls, no explanation. Just silence, stretching on for months, the gap between you two growing wider, until you started to convince yourself that maybe that was for the best. Maybe you were better off without him, your life finally starting to take shape without the constant ache of waiting for him to come back, to acknowledge the mess he left behind.

Cupping your hands beneath the faucet, you splashed some more water onto your face. God, I need therapy.

But, being that your current rent situation didn’t exactly permit a visit to the psychologist at the moment, you threw your favorite fuzzy robe over your satin cami and shorts, popping your feet into your beat up pink slippers. You shuffled right over to your bedroom and plopped down onto the bed, limbs falling uselessly to the mattress.

Kill me, you thought.

That wasn’t viable, though. So, instead, you reached into your nightstand (past the vibrator you had bought eight months ago during the worst part of your dry streak) and pulled out a sheet mask. Biting into the package, you opened it and pulled the slimy thing out. The serum melted into your skin as you laid it over your face, leaning your head back against the pillows and relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages.

Your head was blissfully empty. There were no thoughts of men with precarious jobs and swords and… devilishly handsome faces. No, it was just you. You and your favorite pajamas and your favorite skincare routine.

You flicked the TV on. You didn’t have to change it back to your favorite channel. No, that was the glory of having a shitty little apartment in the city to yourself. It was on the same channel you left off on – your favorite drama.

The characters buzzed to life. You set the remote down and watched.

The characters on screen started a new conflict, one that you knew would keep you hooked for the next hour. You sank deeper into the couch, letting the familiar warmth of your apartment wash over you. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only comes when you're truly alone.

Then, the sound came. A soft knock at the window outside your room, followed by a long, drawn-out silence. Your heart skipped, the peace broken. You froze, eyes still locked on the TV, the characters' voices fading into the background as your mind reeled. It was too late for anyone to be outside. Too late for anything normal to be happening. Another knock, louder this time. A rhythmic tap that sent a shiver down your spine. You slowly turned your head toward the window, your pulse quickening.

Oh, God, you thought. I’m going to die.

Still, because you couldn’t exactly ignore the sound, you slid out of your warm, comfortable bed and into your slippers once more. Then, hesitating every single step of the way, you snuck into the living room, glancing around in search of the source of the sound.

Another knock. This one louder. You held your breath, hand hovering just above the blinds. It was coming from outside. No one else came to your apartment at this hour. You knew who it had to be.

You glanced down.

There, crouched on the balcony just below your window, was Dante. His face was half-lit by the streetlights, a little smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he waved at you. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn’t disappeared for an entire year. Like you hadn’t spent every sleepless night wondering if he was dead or alive, missing his presence as if your heart had been torn in half.

The audacity of it. There he was, grinning like nothing had changed. His hair was messy, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark that used to drive you crazy. The same spark that made your chest ache, even now.

“He cannot be serious,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it, his grin widening.

You could almost feel his eyes on you, waiting, daring you to say something. But you couldn’t. What could you even say?

All you could do was crack the window open.

“Sorry,” He huffed out a laugh. A familiar one. One you… kinda missed, actually. “I tried calling, but I think you blocked my number.”

“I got a new phone,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make this situation any better – as if you would open your eyes and he wouldn’t be here.

But he was. 

“What the fuck are you even doing here– I mean– the balcony, Dante, really?” You threw your hands out, eyes full of exasperation. “You could have knocked at the door like a normal person.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked. “If you knew it was me?”

“Probably not,” You replied honestly. “I should leave you out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, right, about that,” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head abashedly. The entire encounter was so absurd that a part of you firmly believed you were dreaming. “I found out I’m, like… half demon. Crazy, right? So I don’t think I would freeze to death. Demon stamina, or whatever.”

Demon stamina. You thought. Right. Definitely awake right now.

Still, that would certainly explain his… endurance.

“Okay…” You had many, many questions, but that was the only thing you could muster, “Should I be… scared?”

What the fuck is going on?

In all honesty, if he told you that the world was ending tomorrow, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nah,” He waved your concerns away with the back of his hand. “I’d never hurt you. Except for… well, when I broke up with you. That’s why I came here, actually. Sorry about that. I’ve done some reflection and I…” Suddenly appearing rather nervous, he trailed off, “I fucked up. I was a real asshole to you back then. God, this is hard.”

Your arms dropped to your sides as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“I know,” Dante said, hands up like he was surrendering. “But hear me out—”

“No, no. You don’t get to just Spider-Man your way onto my balcony, confess your demon heritage, and then act like this is normal,” you said, pointing to him like you were trying to make sense of a hallucination. “You broke up with me out of nowhere. Then you vanished. For a year, Dante. Not a word. Not even a shitty text.”

“I didn’t have a phone,” he replied, offended. “I was on a mission. I was in Hell.”

You snorted. “Oh, please.”

He blinked at you. Then, very seriously, he hissed out, “No, I was literally in Hell. For a year. You can’t imagine what that was like for me.”

“Oh my god.” You pressed your fingers to your temples. “You’re insane. Hell? Really?”

“I’m not making it up! You think I wanted to ghost you for twelve months?”

“Well, you kind of did. You broke up with me, remember?” You crossed your arms. “Said I should forget you. That I should move on.”

A pregnant pause.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he muttered.

“Well, congrats. I moved on. I did the whole crying on the bathroom floor thing, I got a therapist, I drank my sorrows away, I bought this plant—” You gestured wildly at the lonely fern in the corner. “His name is Rico. And he’s thriving. Without you.”

Rico was not, in fact, thriving. He was an exotic plant. One you had purchased on impulse at a farmer’s market that you definitely should have researched prior. He wasn’t doing too well cooped up inside of your apartment in New York City. Who would?

Dante crouched down, tilting his head, squinting at Rico. “Looks a little dehydrated.”

You glared. “So do you. What do you even want, Dante?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down for a second, suddenly quiet. “I want a do-over.”

You stared at him.

“I didn’t have much control over the whole… trapped-in-hell thing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, “but I wasn’t happy with how we ended things. I could’ve been better to you. I kept rehearsing what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again, but I wasn’t expecting it to actually happen.”

He’s not being serious

… Is he?

One look at him, and you knew he was.

You let out a long, flat breath. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

You raised your brows. “Because we can’t,” you said again, quieter this time. And this time, it hurt.

“Why?” He asked, as if you hadn’t made yourself perfectly clear. “I’ve changed, honest. The past year I spent without you, I realized how good you were to me. How I took you for granted – I don’t wanna let you go. I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice.”

Aw, you thought, That’s… kinda sweet, actually.

No. Stop that.

Instead, you propped your hand up on your hip, “Does that mean you won’t be here on my balcony ever again?”

He paused, pursed his lips. “Okay, maybe I would,” He finally admitted. “But if you would let me in–”

You cut him off right then and there, rolling your eyes. “I can’t, Dante. I have a fucking boyfriend.”

That hit its mark.

His mouth opened, then closed again. The silence that followed made you uncomfortable in a way only Dante could manage—equal parts awkward and guilty. He looked down at the floor of the balcony like maybe it had some hidden message for him.

“Oh…” he murmured. “Oh. You… You really moved on.”

“Something like that.” You shrugged, trying not to sound as tired as you felt. “That’s what happens when you disappear for a year. Life goes on.”

“Not for me,” he muttered, lips curling downward into a pout that would’ve been funny if it didn’t come attached to so much damn history. “Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest.” Then he added, almost too fast, like it slipped out before he could filter it, “I could probably fuck you better, too—”

He probably could. Honestly, your current sex life with your current boyfriend wasn’t the greatest. Still, he was consistent. He didn’t leave you hanging for nights in a row, wondering if he would come home. Not to mention the fact that, when you were with Dante, well…

You had some of the loveliest orgasms you had ever had. On the bed, on the floor, on the kitchen counter. The kind of orgasm you hadn’t achieved once since he had left. Not with your vibrator, and certainly not with your new boyfriend.

Your stare could’ve burned through glass. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

He had the decency to look vaguely ashamed, but not enough to shut up. “Did you come here just to ask for a do-over?” you asked, already backing toward the window.

“No,” he said, and then paused. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”

You almost respected his commitment. Almost.

You didn’t respond right away, just stared at him— hair as white as starlight, red leather coat, sword still strapped to his back, ridiculous expression like he genuinely thought charm could undo the year-long hole he’d left in your life. The silence made him fidget, scuffing the toe of his boot against the concrete.

“What do I have to do to convince you?”

You sighed. You really sighed this time, long and from the chest, because there was no point in even pretending this wasn’t exhausting.

“Goodnight, Dante,” you said.

Then… you shut the window.

The next day came with no promises of peace.

You were behind the counter at the diner, hair tied back, apron smudged with flour, oil, and maybe a little bit of your sanity. The coffee machine hissed in protest as you filled another mug for a trucker in the corner booth. Your feet hurt. Your head hurt. But at least it was a different kind of ache than the one Dante stirred up last night.

And then, like the universe had a personal vendetta against your emotional wellbeing, the bell above the door jingled.

You didn’t have to look up.

You felt him walk in—like some twisted sixth sense. The air shifted, and you could practically smell the cologne he always wore, something smoky and leather-soft. A second later, a voice followed.

“Damn. This place got a lot prettier since I was last here.”

You looked up anyway. Because of course you did.

There he was. Dante. Leaning casually against the host stand, all devil-may-care charm and a ridiculous leather jacket that made him look like he belonged anywhere but this greasy spoon diner. His eyes found you immediately.

You blinked slowly, then turned back to the coffee pot. “I swear to God,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

He strolled right up to the counter, pulling up a stool like he hadn’t trespassed on your balcony twelve hours ago. Like he hadn’t cracked open an old wound and kissed the air with apologies.

“You look good in that apron,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t bother looking at him this time. “You look like someone who doesn’t tip well.”

“I tip amazing,” he argued. “Just like I–”

“Do me a favor and don’t finish that sentence,” you warned, grabbing a towel and wiping down a clean patch of counter for the hundredth time. “Have you always been this petulant or is it something in the air?”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said, shrugging innocently. “I’m a man of many talents. Want me to prove it? I’ve got time.”

Oh my god.

You finally turned to face him. “Do you not have demons to fight or… hell dimensions to get trapped in again?”

He laughed. “You remembered.”

You deadpanned, “How could I forget? It’s not every day your ex disappears into Hell without a cell phone.”

Dante lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. But look—I just thought we could talk. Maybe over some waffles? Syrup fixes a lot.”

You were already shaking your head. “No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you. Not here.”

“I’ll be good,” he said, drawing an imaginary halo over his head with his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you replied flatly.

“And you were never this mean to me,” he said with mock hurt.

“You were never this annoying. Go piss off somewhere. You had no problems leaving me alone for a year,” you shot back. Then you waved down one of your coworkers—a sweet girl named Lila with a bright smile and no idea what kind of emotional tornado she was about to serve.

“Hey, Lila?” you called. “Can you take counter stool three for me?”

She blinked. “Uh, sure. You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said, handing her a menu. “He’s all yours.”

Dante blinked as Lila approached with her notepad, looking confused and a little betrayed. “Wait, seriously?”

You leaned over the counter slightly, voice low. “You want waffles? Order them. You want closure? Write a poem.”

And then you walked away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. The ache in your chest was enough to tell you exactly what kind of expression he wore.

The living room was dark, lit only by the bluish haze of the TV screen flashing between killstreaks and loading screens. Your boyfriend was sunk deep into the couch, legs wide, controller gripped like a lifeline. He hadn’t looked at you in over twenty minutes, completely absorbed in his game, spewing half-hearted trash talk at some twelve-year-old with better aim and a louder mic.

You shifted beside him, stretching a little, brushing your leg against his. Nothing. So you leaned over, nuzzling your nose lightly against his neck, just beneath his jaw.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet. You let your fingers slide down his chest, slow and teasing. “Want to take a little break?”

He flinched—not from desire, but because someone on screen shot him. Again.

“Babe, not now,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the game. “I’m in ranked.”

You pulled back a bit, blinking, mouth falling open in disbelief. “Seriously?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept clicking buttons, dead focused on the screen. “Yeah, just like… fifteen more minutes. Can you make dinner or something?”

You stared at him, chest hollowing out in quiet, stunned offense. You’d offered him your body. He asked for food.

There was a moment of silence. Your hand dropped from his chest.

You sat back against the cushion, a little colder now, teeth pressing into your bottom lip. And that was when Dante’s voice—his voice—echoed in your head from the night before.

“Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest. I could probably fuck you better, too—”

You closed your eyes briefly, scoffing under your breath. God, he was ridiculous. And yet…

You pushed yourself off the couch wordlessly, heading to the kitchen without a sound.

Behind you, your boyfriend called out, “You’re the best, babe!”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. Just slammed the fridge door a little harder than necessary.

And in the back of your mind, Dante's voice lingered like a splinter.

You turned the stove on, lips pressed into a thin, tired line. Maybe later you’d lie down and try to remember what it felt like to be romanced by someone who didn’t treat Call of Duty like a second girlfriend.

One incredibly sexless night later, you took the evening to decompress. That is, you lit up some candles, had a few slices of the pie you’d kept in your fridge for days just like this one, and blocked off an hour for the sole purpose of masturbation. 

What? You needed it.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, perfectly still. You’d even put your phone on Do Not Disturb, because tonight was about you. Your fingers itched with anticipation as you laid out your night like a ritual: the robe slipping lower on your shoulder, the cool sheets turned down, your favorite toy already waiting on the nightstand like a promise.

God. You needed this. You were wound tight. Between work, the complete lack of passion from the man you were dating, and that absolutely deranged balcony visit from Dante… you were more than pent up. You were practically vibrating with unmet desire.

You let out a long, dramatic exhale, sinking down into your mattress with the kind of grace usually reserved for tragic heroines. Just you, a flickering candle, and the fantasy of literally anyone but your boyfriend.

You reached for the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Knock, knock.

Your hand froze.

You stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone had the wrong door.

Knock, knock. Louder this time. Three slow raps, followed by silence.

You sat up slowly, groaning into the air. Then, begrudgingly, you stuffed your vibrator back into the drawer, kicking your feet over the edge of the bed and walking into the living room. It was dark, of course, so you flicked on a light. When you stared into the peephole of your front door, it took all of the strength you had to not bang your head against the door.

It was Dante. Again. No leather jacket this time, just a black hoodie, hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You blinked, then groaned into the back of your hand.

Another knock, like he heard you. And then, muffled through the wood, his voice.

“I can hear you in there. Demon hearing, remember?” He brought his head up to the peephole, staring right back at you. “I know it’s late, Just… let me talk to you? For just a second? Please?”

You pulled the door open.

Dante stood there in the dim hallway light, hair windswept, hands in his pockets like he’d been pacing outside for a while, working up the nerve. His gaze moved over your face with a kind of stunned reverence, like he hadn’t really believed he’d see you again.

“Hey, princess,” he said.

There it was. That nickname. The one you hadn’t heard in a year.

You stepped aside without a word. He walked in like the place still remembered him. Or maybe you did.

The door clicked shut behind you.

You didn’t speak. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over your chest, watching him watch the room like it had changed without him. It had. You had. But he still looked at you like he saw the girl you were a year ago. That girl who let him ruin her, and smiled while doing it.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “I tried.”

“Did you?” You answered.

“Okay, not really,” He looked at you again, more serious now. “I keep thinking about you. All the time. You’re in my head constantly, like—fuck—I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll see something and just need to tell you about it.”

You laughed. Just once. It came out bitter and exhausted. “Keep it to yourself.”

“I missed talking to you about anything,” he said. “Everything.”

You shook your head, pushing off the wall, pacing just a little—like if you kept moving, you wouldn’t fall for this again. “You don’t get to come back after vanishing for a year and say shit like that.”

“I know. I know I don’t,” he said quickly, stepping toward you. “But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve been trying to act like– like I’m not completely in love with you still, and it’s killing me.”

Your breath caught.

After all of this time?

His hands reached for yours before you could stop him. You let him take them.

Okay… what the fuck is going on?

“You deserve someone who sees you. Someone who treats you like you matter every second of the day,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t take you for granted. I could be that. I want to be that.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Because you’d heard those words before, from people who never meant them. From the person you’d curled up beside just last night, feeling more alone than ever. And yet here Dante was, saying all the right things—but he hadn’t even asked. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how long it had been since someone had touched you like they meant it.

Your voice came out hoarse. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” he whispered. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I think about you when I’m trying to sleep. I think about your laugh. Your stupid, shitty taste in TV. Your coffee order. The movies you like. I want that back. I want you back.”

You yanked your hands away, jaw tight.

He’s got a lot of fucking nerve.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “Don’t show up and say these things and make me feel like this again. You don’t even know what you left behind.”

He looked at you, eyes open and raw. “Then tell me. Let me make it right.”

“Go away, Dante.” you snapped.

Silence fell between you like a slammed door. You turned your back to him, trying to catch your breath.

Then he stepped in behind you.

Not touching, not quite—but close enough that you felt the heat of him. Close enough that your body remembered every inch of him like a phantom limb. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “I know I fucked up. Can you be… like, not so mad? Just for two seconds?”

His hand slid to your hip, turning you gently toward him. You let him, still trembling, still so full of everything you never got to say.

“I’ve been in love with you this whole time,” he whispered. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words were genuine. Genuine enough that you felt the tears begin to prickle at your eyes all over again – emotional at the mere thought of him, because truthfully?

You missed him, too. You just didn’t want to admit it. You missed the late nights and later mornings. You missed waking up next to him, hearing him talk about his crazy adventures as a demon hunter. You missed his kisses, the smell of him, his everything.

And, God, the sex… The sex was great.

He was taller than you. Always had been. But in that moment, it felt impossible not to notice how much he towered over you—how his shadow swallowed yours, how the air itself seemed to dip around him. You didn’t want to look up at him, but you did.

You stood frozen, breath shallow, pulse racing in your throat. You didn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. But here you were, locked in place, every part of you screaming to walk away, and every part of you still craving the comfort of his touch.

“Please…” You whispered, trying to fight the overwhelming tide of emotion. “Please, Dante. Just go.”

His expression softened, like he hadn’t expected that—like he was expecting something more. You felt his fingers on your waist now, and they were warm, pressing gently into your skin. There was no escape now. You weren’t sure you wanted to run anymore, not when it felt like your body was already betraying you.

“I shouldn’t be here, I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. The distance between you seemed to vanish with each word. “But I couldn’t stay away. I tried to forget about you, I tried so damn hard, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Don’t, Dante. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

His eyes searched yours, the guilt and longing mixing together in a way that made your heart ache. He was close now, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t stop him. Not yet.

“I know I fucked up,” he whispered again, more softly this time. “But I love you. I never stopped. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I just—I can’t be without you.”

And then, without waiting for another word, he leaned in.

His lips touched yours, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. You didn’t stop him. For that moment, for that brief, heart-stopping moment, you let yourself fall back into the pull of him. Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

God, I missed this.

You melted against him, a wave of relief crashing over you as his kiss deepened, more urgent, more desperate. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you responded without thinking, your body moving instinctively against his. He groaned low in his throat, his hand sliding to your neck, the other pressing you closer.

You kissed him back like you were starving, like you had been dying for this. And for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered—like the last year of silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it faded away in the heat of his mouth on yours.

But then, just as quickly as the warmth had started, it turned cold.

You pulled away, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with the sudden rush of emotion. You couldn’t do this. Not again. Not after everything. Your hands shook as you pushed against his chest, creating just enough space to break the connection.

“No,” you said, your voice breaking as you stepped back, wiping at your eyes. “No. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

He blinked at you, stunned, his face pale, but he didn’t move. His eyes were full of confusion, pain, and something darker that you didn’t want to see.

“I can’t,” you repeated, voice steadying with every word. You took another step back, hand reaching for the door. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry, Dante,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I really am.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the briefest second, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes – something devastating.

But then, he nodded. The motion was slow, almost resigned, and he took a step back. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed you, he stopped for a moment, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

And then, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

You were sitting on the couch, the faint sounds of your boyfriend’s video game drifting from the other room, mingling with the hum of the refrigerator. You hated that noise—hated the sound of him so effortlessly immersed in a world that wasn’t yours, that didn’t care about the growing tension between the two of you. You tried to focus on the TV, tried to let the sitcom's canned laughter drown out the gnawing discomfort in your stomach. But it wasn’t working. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Dante had said.

I could treat you so much better.

Those words. God, they kept coming back to you. You didn’t want them to. You didn’t want to feel them pushing into every corner of your mind, making you question everything you thought you knew. But they did. And you were alone with those thoughts now. Alone with your insecurities that you usually kept locked away.

You huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around you as if it could protect you from the storm of doubt forming in your chest. You shouldn’t be thinking about him—about Dante. You should be thinking about how your boyfriend had been in and out of your life, barely there, barely present, always distracted. But the longer you sat there, the more it seemed like it was all just a reflection of the way you felt inside: disconnected, hollowed out, drifting.

And then, as if fate was timing it just perfectly, he left his phone on the counter.

Your breath caught, the phone staring at you like a challenge, like an invitation. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You promised you wouldn’t invade his privacy like this. But your fingers itched to touch it, to confirm the sinking feeling in your stomach that something—someone—wasn't right.

You pushed yourself off the couch, the decision feeling both slow and inevitable as you walked toward the kitchen. The phone sat innocently on the counter, waiting. You took a breath, a shaky, hesitant inhale. You could walk away. You could pretend you didn’t see it.

But you didn’t.

You picked it up, unlocking it with a simple swipe. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline kicking in as if you were about to do something reckless. The phone screen lit up with messages from some unnamed number. And when you saw the first message, your throat tightened.

"I miss you so much. When can I see you again?"

It hit you hard. Like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t even had time to react before your eyes were scanning the next message, then the next, your stomach sinking deeper and deeper with every word.

“Last night was incredible. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A sharp, painful gasp escaped you before you could stop it. You clutched the phone tighter, staring at the words, and then—bam—it all crashed into you. You hadn’t been wrong. You hadn’t been imagining the distance, the emotional coldness that had settled between you and your boyfriend. There it was, in black and white—proof of his betrayal.

You felt like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of it all. This wasn’t just about the messages. It was about everything. About the endless late nights when he came home late from “work,” about the weekends when he’d disappear into his own world, leaving you to figure out where you fit into it. And now this—this confirmation that the man you had been with for so long wasn’t who you thought he was.

You could almost hear Dante’s voice again in your head. I could treat you so much better. The words felt like salt in a wound you hadn’t even realized you had, their presence almost suffocating in the quiet of your kitchen. Were you settling? Were you really going to let this happen? Let yourself get swallowed by someone who couldn’t even give you the decency of respect?

You exhaled sharply, your pulse quickening as the next message flashed on the screen.

“I can’t wait to see you again, babe.”

Babe.

The word made you sick, twisting your stomach into knots. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—maybe because it wasn’t meant for you. Maybe because it was meant for someone else. Someone who got his attention, who got his time, his affection. It wasn’t you. You were just the woman he settled for, the one who wasn’t good enough for the effort.

The room felt too small, the air too thick, and you suddenly hated everything about this moment. The phone in your hand, the pit in your stomach, the way you had let things go on for this long. You could feel the tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You weren’t going to cry over this. You weren’t going to let him have that power over you.

But just as quickly, the rush of hurt was replaced by something else—a sharp anger that burned through you like fire. You weren’t going to keep doing this. You weren’t going to keep letting him make you feel small. You weren’t going to keep standing by, pretending that nothing was wrong when everything was falling apart around you.

You weren’t going to be the backup. The woman who stayed even though she knew she deserved more.

The sound of footsteps from the other room snapped you out of your thoughts, and you shoved the phone down onto the counter, just as your boyfriend entered the kitchen. His voice was casual, too casual, as if nothing had changed.

“Hey, babe. You alright?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You didn’t respond right away. You just stared at him, your chest tight with all the words you didn’t want to say, the emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The raw anger, the aching disappointment—it was all building up inside you, suffocating you. You stood there in the kitchen, phone still in your hand, his lies echoing in your mind. Every text, every word, had become a blade, slicing through your trust, through your relationship. And now, standing face-to-face with him, it all came to a boiling point.

You couldn’t help it.

You walked up to him, eyes burning with fury, and before he could even open his mouth to explain himself, your hand shot out. The slap echoed through the small apartment, sharp and loud, breaking the tense silence between you.

His head jerked to the side from the impact. He didn’t even seem surprised. But you could see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Too late for that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your voice trembled with rage as the words spilled out. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’m some kind of idiot, just sitting here while you lie to my face?”

He reached up, touching his cheek, and for a moment, he looked almost confused. “What the hell are you talking abou–”

“No.” You cut him off, stepping back, trying to breathe, to stop the angry tears from spilling over. “Don’t even try. I’ve been here, okay? I’ve been here, giving you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

You could feel the walls around you closing in. The kitchen—the place where you had made so many meals together, laughed together, fought together—it suddenly felt suffocating. This wasn’t your home anymore. It wasn’t the place you thought it was.

“I trusted you,” you spat, your voice cracking. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back. All this time, you were texting her—her—while I was sitting here, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.”

His eyes widened, but then he scoffed, trying to brush it off. “Come on, it’s not like that. She’s just—”

“Don’t!” You interrupted again, shaking your head, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what excuses you’ve got. I don’t want to hear how you’re ‘sorry’ and how ‘it wasn’t like that’ because it was. I saw the texts. I saw everything.”

There was a cold silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He was quiet now, eyes downcast, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he had no idea how to fix it—because there was no fixing it. Not this time.

“Do you even care?” You whispered, feeling the heartbreak seep into your bones. “Do you even care that you’ve been hurting me this whole time?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to form the right words, trying to make it sound like he cared, like he had some kind of reason, but it was too late for that.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I’m done.”

He froze. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Wait—what? You can’t—”

“Don’t try to stop me.” You took a deep breath, the anger dissipating just enough to feel the weight of the pain. “I’m not staying here. I’m not going to keep putting myself through this. I’m done.”

His face fell. You could see the regret in his eyes, but you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you’d just found out.

You turned your back on him, heading for the bedroom to grab your things. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You could feel the tension in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not anymore. You were done.

You grabbed your bag—your jacket, your wallet, your keys—and made your way toward the door. Every step felt heavy, like you were walking away from something you had invested so much of yourself into, and yet, there was a strange sense of relief settling in your chest. You were leaving behind a lie, a hollow version of something you had once wanted to be real. 

You were leaving him.

“Wait,” he called out, his voice strained. “Please, don’t go. We can fix this. We can talk—”

But you didn’t listen. You opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and closed it behind you. The sound of it was final. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You didn’t want to be with someone who could betray you like this.

Still, weak thing that you were, you began to cry.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

As you walked down the hallway, your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You didn’t want to look at it. 

But then, your fingers moved of their own accord, slipping the phone out of your pocket.

And there it was: Dante’s old number.

The one you’d saved with the naive hope that he might have called. You hadn’t thought about it in a while. You hadn’t dared to reach out to him—hadn’t dared to even look at his name on your phone. But now, standing there in the hallway, your heart pounding, your chest tight from everything you’d just left behind, you thought about what he’d said to you.

I could treat you better. 

I’ve always been in love with you.

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought. You could still hear his voice in your head, still feel the weight of his words.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, uncertainty swirling inside you. You didn’t know why you were doing this. You didn’t know what you hoped to get from it, but you couldn’t shake the pull. You wanted—needed—someone who saw you. Someone who cared.

So, in a moment of weakness, you typed the words.

YOU: I need you.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. The words felt foreign, too raw, too vulnerable, but you couldn’t take them back now.

a/n: ok so whenn i say this is gonna be short... i MEAN IT THIS TIME LOL..... maybe. anyway! part two is almost done, so comment what you thought, let me know what you'd like to see, what you loved, etc! until next time, my loves x not sure why this got deleted? but ok

I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa

wanna join the taglist? | pretty ; chapter index

[randompiecesofwriting]

Wrong Name (Part 2)

Summary: Part 2 of Wrong Name ft. an accidental proposal

Pairing: Jack Abbot x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning: None! Just super cute!

Author’s note: And I present a part 2 I honestly never thought I would write! Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who left likes reblogs and comments they all mean that absolute world to me I love hearing about your favorite parts it absolutely makes my day and I hope you like this part too!

Check out part one here!

He thought he had learned to stop being so surprised to see you just show up at the hospital.

It was always with an excuse, dropping off food for the staff, meeting him after a shift to walk home, giving him something he had forgot at home, but he thinks you actually just like being around, and the rest of the doctors of the Pitt certainly felt the same way. He was pretty sure they just texted you, asking you to come when they needed you, and you never hesitated to follow through.

It was nice to have someone outside of the Pitt. It was something he learned early on with you. Nice to have someone with what felt like objective eyes on the good and the bad, who could give perspective from a point of view other than a medical professional. And somehow, you’ve become that person for the people in the ED still too new to have that network yet.

So maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised to see you sitting on a bench across from the hospital, drinking a beer from a familiar looking cooler, surrounded by familiar looking young doctors.

“Have my med students kidnapped you” a part of him relished the way everyone in the group but you jumped a little at his voice, their immediate reaction to try and hide the beer as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

All except you who grinned up at him from the bench, tilting your neck back eagerly to give him a quick kiss in greeting with a hum of approval. “Kidnap? Please, I think I could take them”

Mel’s head tilted slightly to the side as if trying to figure out whether you were joking or not while Javadi’s eyes go wide and bounce rapidly between the two of you still trying to figure out if she was somehow going to get in trouble for this.

It was Whitaker who pipped up to fill the silence “Well Santos knows Krav Maga”

You looked at the intern with a raised brow, watching as she tried to bite down and hide her proud smirk behind her can. “That’s okay she’d be on my side”

“Damn right I would” she responded immediately, clinking her can against yours in a toast as you chuckled.

“Well now that your white knight is here what do you say we head home” he cut in putting a hand on your shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

“And that kiddies is my cue” You gave a dramatic groan as you stood up, raising your can in front of you to address them “to my favorite doctors in all of PTMC who work under Dr. Abbot” you gave a pause for dramatic effect “who I am incredibly proud of and did amazing work today”

Javadi gave a snort at that “you weren’t even here to verify that”

“Oh those weren’t my words” you assured her quickly “those came directly from Jack”

“Now hold on” he tired to interject but you steamrolled ahead.

“Goes on constantly about how proud he is of you guys”

“Wait a second”

“How you are the best residents he’s ever had”

“I certainly didn-“

“And that you’re all getting raises”

Jack tried to swallow back the chuckle that ruminated in his chest “And with that we are leaving”

You chuckled fondly at him, Jack beyond powerless to do anything but smile softly back at you.

“Alright I will see you all…probably fairly soon you’re kinda stuck with me now”

Mel pipped up just as you started to retreat “we’re still on for Friday right?”

“Yes” You responded eagerly, making your way over to Jack and not hesitating to take his hand in yours, giving the fingers a reassuring squeeze “your sister’s okay with it right?”

“Of course she is she likes you” Mel rolled her eyes like it was obvious only making your grin widen.

“Good I like her too. But I wanted to check. You can’t just crash a King sister tradition without checking” Pulling softly on his arm you started to lead Jack away from the benches, still calling out back behind you “text me if she doesn’t want me to come, no hurt feelings got it?”

Mel gave you a thumbs up in response, you just about to finally turn around and leave with Jack before Whitaker called out again.

“Goodbye Mrs.A-“

“Whittaker you finish that sentence I’ll sic Santos on you”

And finally, finally Jack had you all to himself. A comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you started to make the familiar trek home.

“You’ve met King’s sister?”

“You haven’t?”

And all Jack could do was laugh because of course you have. Of course you knew all about how she spent her time outside of work. Of course you had gotten yourself invited to their family tradition.

But still his mind was stuck on one particular part of that conversation. Unable to stop himself from asking even as he felt he shouldn’t. “Have you ever thought about it? Being Mrs. Abbot”

“Of course” you answered so quickly, so thoughtlessly, as if those two words hadn’t made his heart stutter in his chest “that’s why its written in pink glitter pen on every page of my diary”

And maybe you noticed the way his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes, or the way his laugh didn’t live in his chest as it normally did, but something made you pause before giving a more honest answer.

“Yeah I’ve thought about it”

He let the answer hang for a bit, let you enjoy yourself watching him squirm before he spoke “and?”

Like he knew you would you grinned back at him. Giving your interlocked hands a little swing “and I think I could go either way”

“Really?” he asked with a raised brow “you have no opinions?”

You shrugged in response “I think I’ve decided my priority is you.”

And truthfully he didn’t know what to say to that. In all the ways he had envisioned this conversation going, all the possible answers you could have given that was not one he had prepared for.

“I like what we have going” you shrugged, giving his hand a soft squeeze “we’re good. I like the idea of making it official, I don’t need it though” And finally you looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips, nothing short of complete devotion in your eyes “at the end of the day I’m going to spend my life with you Jack Abbot and there’s nothing you can do about it”

That finally pulled a real laugh out of him, the kind that rumbled deep in his chest, as he forced the two of you to stop, an action you didn’t seem at all surprised by.

He brought his palm up to cup your cheek, fingers threading lazily though the hair behind your ear as he rubbed softly back and forth on your skin, taking a moment to truly look at you, appreciate the beauty of the person he was so unfathomably lucky to call his. “You promise?”

“For you my dearest Jack Rabbit” you declared with a grin, going up onto your toes until your nose touched his, finishing on a whisper “I vow it”

-

“You know you two aren’t being subtle” Jack hadn’t even bothered to look up as he said it, had in fact spent the better part of the day avoiding their gaze as much as possible.

“Well I wasn’t going for subtle. Dana?” Robby stated matter-of-factly, glancing over at his charge nurse as he said it.

“I was going for overt” she shrugged.

And Jack knew exactly what their expressions would before he looked up, could guess the mixture of barely contained mirth and disappointment that would paint their features without needing to confirm.

“Well if you could keep your overt stares to yourselves that would be great”

“What is it Jackie-boy is it the ring?” Dana ignored him, leaning forward onto her forearms from across from him, bending down and seeking his gaze just as he usually did with people “I told you the ring’s perfect. It matches all of the stuff she already has well”

“No it’s not the ring” Jack cut her off with an annoyed look, keeping his head pointed down at the charting he had abandoned long ago “now if you excuse me some of us have a job to do”

“Well if not the ring then what?” Robby jumped in, mirroring Dana’s stance as he did so, the two doing their best to present a unified front, a fact that almost had Jack chuckling despite himself “You know when I told you she was too good for you I was mostly joking”

With a dramatic sigh Jack finally straightened and looked at the two across the desk from him, resigning himself to the fact that there was no escaping this conversation for much longer “no it’s not-“

“Dr. Abbot” Mel King his saving grace appeared next to him effectively catching the attention of all three of them, Jack more than happy to distract himself with whatever case she needed him on than withstand anymore grilling from his two so-called friends.

“Yes Dr. King”

“I just wanted to ask if-“ and he spoke too soon.

“No” Jack effectively cut off the line of questioning, turning back to his chart physically putting an end to the conversation

“But I just think that-“ Mel tried again

“No”

“Have you considered-“

“Still no”

“Dr. Abbot” Robby finally cut in, raising a brow at his friend as he put on his best teacher voice that only succeeded in pulling an eye roll from Jack “I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is a teaching hospital”

“It sure is” Jack responded in a similar tone “and teaching is exactly the thing I would love to be able to do today but thanks to some of us who have decided to be nosey and ‘overt’” he pointedly glared at the two of them “the rest of the staff have gotten it in their heads that they should get to be there when I propose”

And though he hoped that would be enough to get everyone back to work Jack was never that lucky, Robby immediately jumping in with “so it is for sure a when not an if then”.

Jack only glared at his friend, pointedly ignoring the shit-eating grin he wore as he stared unflinchingly back, Mel deciding this was the perfect opportunity to plead her case again “I just think that when it happens I-“

“Okay everyone listen up” Jack cut her off with a loud clap of his hands, effectively pulling the attention of anyone in the center of the ED.

“Dr. Abbot” Dana tried to call his attention, but he steamrolled ahead.

“I’m only going to say this once”

“Jack” Dana tried again as Jack once again pointedly ignored her.

“It will be done in private, just the two of us, at a time when I feel it is right alright?” He challenged the ED with a raised brow, his audience, despite his words, looking almost giddy before him.

“Sweetheart” Dana again tried to cut him off but Jack was too deep into his speech now.

“I appreciate your help with the ring and everything you all have done for the two of us but you need to stop pushing”

At this Dana had no more to say, little more than a deep sigh coming from the nurse as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter behind her.

“When I propose it will be on my own terms got it?”

The ED went silent around him, his students eyes wide as they did little more than stare up at him with rapt attention confusing Jack slightly.

“When you what”

Jack froze. He knew that voice. He knew that voice all too well. And even if he didn’t one look at the shit-eating grin on Robby’s face was more than enough to confirm it.

Jack spun in place quicker than his feet could really keep up to see you standing just a few feet behind him, frozen in place staring back at him with a wide-eyed gaze making Jack curse under his breath.

For the longest time no one said anything, the two of you frozen before one another as Jack’s head desperately reached for absolutely anything to say, finally settling on a defeated “what are you doing here”

“When you propose?” And God help him the way your lips twitched up at the corners as you said it made him nearly melt on the spot, Jack unable to fight the smile from growing on his lips in response as he took a few steps closer to you until he was almost chest to chest.

“Okay fine yes, when” he conceded with a soft chuckle, stooping his head slightly to fully meet your gaze as he drove his next point home “which is not this moment”

“But it’s going to happen?” Your question came back quick, your smile quickly growing to a full on grin that Jack wanted to be exasperated at. It would’ve been so much easier to shut down this conversation if he could remain stoic but the unbridled glee in your eyes had his resolve crumbling.

“In the future yes but I cannot stress this enough, not right now”

“Yes I say yes, or I will say yes” you eagerly grabbed at his forearms as the words all but spilled out of you. Jack helpless against the warmth that radiated within his chest at the action, his hands reaching forward to grab your face between them as a laugh threatened to bubble out of him.

“I am not proposing right now”

You all but ignored him, pulling his hands off your face but keeping them captured in your own as you continued on “have you already bought a ring? Can I see it?”

You were like a dog after a treat, oh so eager to barrel on ahead despite everything and Jack was finding it much too hard to be mad about it “I don’t have it on me because I refused to get engaged in the Pitt while I’m in scrubs”

And finally you seemed to properly take in the scene around you, the florescent lights ahead, the beep of machines all around you, the much too eager eyes of his coworkers who watched the scene before them unfold with rapt attention. “Alright fine”

Jack nearly sagged in relief at that, glad you were finally seeing things from his point of view before you cut him off again.

“But can I see it when we get home?”

A shocked laugh spilled out of the man as he shook his head, raking an exasperated hand over the lower half of his face “will you let me do it properly? Get on one knee, recite a speech I’ll pretend I didn’t spend hours writing. The whole nine yards” Never in his life did he think he would have to beg his fiancé to let him properly propose.

You pretended to think it over, the grin on your face telling him you were getting entirely too much enjoyment out of torturing him like this “Can we do dinner first? My favorite restaurant?”

He rolled his eyes at your response, unable to fight the fond smile from his lips as he did so “this isn’t a negotiation”

But you only stared up at him through your lashes, bottom lip pinned between your teeth, and Jack was putty in your hands, throwing  out the last resemblance of a plan he had with a sigh “we have reservations this weekend”

He barely got the words out before you were wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your lips up against his, Jack grinning happily into the kiss as he pulled you by the waist deeper into him, finding that he didn’t much mind this part of this catastrophe of a proposal.

But like usual the ED chimed in at the perfect time, an abrupt cheer from his friends around him pulling the two of you apart as you were swarmed by his med students, the kids eagerly pulling you into their own set of congratulatory hugs.

But with a grin like that on your face Jack still found he couldn’t be too mad about it.

A hand clapping his shoulder pulled Jack’s attention away from the excited conversation happening between you and his students, Robby sliding up next to him with a smug smile on his face “You know I’m honored you’d want me here today to witness-“

“Shut the fuck up” Jack cut him off sharply but with a chuckle, not hesitating to pull him into a hug, Robby whispering into his friends shoulder “I’m happy for you brother”

[eraserbread]

MEAN NANAMI, I BEG. He's so annoyed with his wife!! I'm talking hair pulling, (loving) slaps, all of it. I need you to write this I think It'll save me

i'm taking any reason to make kento call u nanami baby, im not sorry. also... who let her out of the house? (≖_≖ )

kento's in from work, exhausted to the bone, and thoroughly peeved. it's a long story, and he doesn't want to think about it anymore, so the first thing he does is phone his savior.

"dear?" he calls when you aren't at his beck and call immediately. the house was quiet... a bit too quiet for his liking. there isn't any comforting music playing, no comforting smell of dinner on the stove, and more gravely -- there's no you.

but, he gives it another try.

"nanami, baby?" silence. he's fuming.

that's all it took, now the straw is broken over the camel's back.

in your defense, you didn't think he'd be home right at 6. he usually takes his time on his commute back, but he got off a bit early today and didn't tell you. it's your biggest mistake to date. you failed at the one thing he expected of you.

so, you are definitely thoroughly surprised and a bit flustered when you come back home in the car he bought you, flushed from rushing home from a friends place, to see him right in the entryway, fist tightened against the handle of his briefcase.

"ken, i'm so sor-

"hope whatever kept you so long was worth it."

"it was just-" you pause, turning around to click the door shut and locked. with your back turned you make a small, pained face. he drops his briefcase.

"i'm waiting for the excuse..."

"i just got caught up at my friends, we started watching a show and I... i wasn't paying attention to the clock. i should've been home hours ago, I know. I'm so sorry, I'll get right to working on dinner, let me just..." you're all over the place, sliding off your own shoes and shedding your outside clothes. the only thing on your mind was 'what can I make him that takes the least amount of time?'

salad? no. ken would be even more pissed if you handed him a plate of raw vegetables and called it dinner.

omlettes? stew? chicken?

a million options come to mind, and you're not even thinking when you pass right by him and into the kitchen to begin. he just... watches you, shifting so he can keep a constant, deep glare on your back.

"hope you're not forgetting anything." he bites, then drops his briefcase, making quick work of his tie.

then, it fucking dawns on you and you're scurrying over your feet to help him shed his day away. but, you're too late. he already has his fingers tangled in the buttons on his shirt and isn't even looking at you anymore.

yeah, you're an idiot.

so, he has you by the hair, huge fist wrapped tight as he walks you to the bedroom. it's hard -- impossible, really, to keep up with him, so he's doing most of the dragging.

"i hope you see just how upset i am with you." though he's seemingly upset, his voice is still as soft as a whisper, clueing you into the fact that he doesn't actually hate you, but he'd fuck you like he did.

"i know, i'm so sorry. so-

"shut up." he doesn't even flex the single arm that sends you stumbling into the bedroom, needing to steady yourself across the footboard. it's still unmade from this morning, too. your stomach drops.

"just what have you been doing all day?"

he wants an answer. he expects an answer.

"I just - I..."

he waits, raised eyebrows and expressionless. you swallow back a lump, holding your breath as you try and gather your thoughts.

"surely you weren't at her house all day?"

"it was a high school friend, I had to." now, you're begging. for him, for mercy, for more. all of it. ken never gets too mad at you -- not like this. you can see it in his once-kind, welcoming eyes. they're shadowed.

"present yourself to me over the side of the bed." he begins, looking down as he pulls his belt off, whipping it through the loops and letting it drop in a shattering clang.

you don't move for a second, staring open mouthed at him like a fish out of water.

"need i repeat myself?" his tone goes completely left, treating you like an annoying student who wouldn't take no for an answer. he's holding it a bit louder, breathing heavily through his nose. "chest to the mattress. Now."

that gets you going in 2x speed, heart hammering cruelly in your chest as you rush to the bed, keeping your clothes on as you rest your front against the mattress. it's instinctual when you bury your face into the sheets, not wanting to see his disapproving face anymore.

you'd let him do anything to you if it means he'd wipe that look off his face.

"you remember, don't you?" he starts, unbuckling and letting his work pants pool around his thighs once they fall. there's no waiting for a shaky answer, he continues. "few weeks after I proposed, I told you what I needed from you... the one thing I always needed. what was it?"

it's like a fucking quiz. you suck at tests, and he told you a lot back then. "uh-

"you're not stupid." suddenly he's behind you, taking a grab of your ass under your loose cotton skirt. it's too long to pull up like he wants, so he waits. "the one thing."

"dinner?" then, he spanks you and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to choke out a surprised cry. he's never shown you this side before... you love it.

"shit! i'm sorry, so sorry."

"i work five days a week, nine hours a day... everything you ever glanced at, I've given you. cars, this big house, this fucking skirt on your ass... it's mine. the one thing I've always wanted in return is your comfort after my long day."

you could cry right now, you're so mad at yourself. "so sorry, ken... i'm so sorry, i knew that."

"sorry is nice, but it won't make me feel better." he decides, then leans down to yank your ankle length skirt high above your waist. somewhere inside of him, he debates gagging you, but wouldn't want to miss your pretty cries. so, he decides against it.

he reaches, dragging two fingers through your cunt, swimming in the fact that you're already so wet for him. he was afraid his mood would turn you down, but if anything, you're weeping for him.

now, kento would never hurt you, really. but, he will and is about to fuck you black and blue. after all, you're the naughty one -- just you. he won't tell you his shitty day filled him to the brim with unkempt angst and he had to expel it.

you're whining under his touch, rising to your tippy toes to try and chase it once it pulls away. little did you know, you're trying to chase the quick little slap he lands right over your needy cunt, sending you crying into the mattress.

you're so turned on, it's scary.

but, when you try to turn around to see if ken's just as affected, he closes his hand around the top of your head and pushes you back into the bed. he's got a socked foot pressed into the mattress next to your hips, giving him the perfect alignment to ease inside of you ever-so-kindly, not giving you any clues to the way he's about to,

ravage you like a beast.

"oh, thank you. god, thank you. thankyou, mm."

"hate when you annoy me... just don't be annoying - fuck."

"this 's why i married'u... gonna -- mmf, fuck. I'm gonna make you limp, 'f you're not pre-mgh-gnant now, u're gonna be."

"need to hear you say... lemme hear it, n-nanami, mm, sweet girl."

"iloveyou." you squeal into his hand as he pierces you fully on his cock, feeling the throb and ache of him flooding your insides with him. it leaks and drips as he takes you through it, sneaking a few fingers in your mouth to play with your tongue.

he's panting like a heathen behind you. it's the most you've heard him speak in one sitting in... forever. it's the most expression he's ever showed.

if you could hear his thoughts right now, all you'd hear is s symphony of:

lovelovecomfortprettycomfortingbeautifulselflessselfishinterestinglovingcomforting

you're his everything. but most of all, you're his entire idea of comfort and safety personified. even when he's fucking you halfway to death, he stops to kiss your tears away and tell you,

"'m sorry for bein' so rough. thankyou for takin' it. love you s'much.."

lucky you

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Out of frame 4/4

Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know they’re a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.

Genre : angst, SMAU

Faceclaim : @suanbeiii

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Group Chat: URGENT

Zak Brown : Everyone. Wake up. Emergency situation. I want you all on this NOW.

PR team : I’ve seen it. The Instagram post...

Marketing team: We’ve already hit global trending. "Lando Norris cheated" is number 1 on Twitter.

Zak Brown : Has anyone confirmed who the girl is?

PR team : I’ve checked everything. No tag. No follow. Y/N wasn't in Japan so it can't be her.

Andrea Stella : This can’t be real. After everything that happened in Japan? He goes and does this?

Marketing team : We’ve already been contacted by two sponsors asking for clarification. If he’s publicly cheated on a high-profile girlfriend, that’s serious brand damage not just for him, but for the team.

PR team : Y/N was his emotional leverage with the public. People loved her. He barely acknowledged her, and the fans still supported her. And now he’s replaced her with a mystery girl?

Digital team : Our comments are a war zone. Fans feel betrayed.

PR team : It’s the worst-case perception: him posted his new girl 48 hours after blowing Y/N off on live TV, and now he’s silent. Not even a clarification.

Andrea Stella : He’s destroyed his image.

Zak Brown : I’m calling him. Alone. Do not flood him with messages. Not yet.

The vibrating of Lando's phone had been relentless, like a jackhammer behind his eyes. Lando groaned, dragging a pillow over his face.

The name barely registered through the haze, but instinct had him answering, "...Hello?"

"Tell me you didn’t just post your new girlfriend to your public Instagram in the middle of a media firestorm."

Lando winced at the sheer volume of Zak’s voice in his ear. “Wait, what? I don't hear you well.” he mumbled, rubbing his face.

"The 4AM post you did Lando, while the internet is still screaming about your breakup with Y/N. Are you completely insane?!"

"Breakup? We didn’t break up. We're just in a... difficult moment"

"Don’t split hairs, Lando. She unfollowed you, deleted tagged photos, skipped Japan, and the entire fanbase has declared you single. You might think you're 'working through it' but from the outside, and from your last Instagram post, you’re very much done."

Lando sat up, the room spinning wildly. "I... I don’t even remember posting. What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb, Lando. It’s still up. We can see you kissing and dancing with a girl in the club. No tag. No explanation."

Lando's headache pulsed behind his eyes, each word from Zak crashing like thunder in his skull. “Wait, what? A girl?” he echoed, frowning. “What girl?”

“Don’t act clueless. The girl in the photos you posted on your account. Romantic captions, it looks like a damn engagement shoot. After everything with Y/N? Are you trying to commit career suicide?”

Lando blinked, nauseous, his whole body clammy with cold sweat. “I don’t remember… I don’t remember anything after the second round of shots,” he admitted. “Wait. Oh God. Did I...”

He cut himself off. The blood drained from his face. “Did I sleep with someone?” he asked, voice small. “Did I cheat on her?”

“Is that your actual question right now? You don’t even know?!”

“I don’t know, Zak!” Lando snapped back, panic flaring. “I remember feeling horrible. I was drunk. I was missing her. I swear I didn’t mean to...”

“You made it look like you replaced the girl fans loved with someone else. Overnight. And you made it public. We’ve had to pause social media scheduling because your name is being dragged through the mud.”

Lando could barely sit upright. His hands were shaking now. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

“You humiliated Y/N on TV, and now you’ve humiliated her online. If you actually spent the night with someone and then posted her? This isn't just scandal, Lando. This is career-killing shit. Sponsors are already reaching out.”

“I didn’t mean to post anything,” Lando muttered. “I swear I wasn’t thinking. I don’t remember opening Instagram. I just… I remember feeling like I messed everything up.”

“Delete it. Now. Delete the post. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Lando rubbed his eyes. “Wait. No. Wait.”

He looked up suddenly. The pounding headache didn’t matter anymore.

“I remember now”

“What?”

Lando’s voice cracked. “It’s not a new girl. It’s Y/N. It’s her. Those are old pictures. From my birthday last year in Monaco.”

Silence.

“You’re telling me you posted your ex-girlfriend at 4AM, drunk, with no tag or explanation, two days after making a public joke about having multiple girlfriends?”

Lando’s throat closed. “ For the second time not ex-girlfriend, we haven't talk yet.  And I know it's not an excuse but I was sad, I was drunk...I thought she’d know it was her. I thought it would mean something. I just missed her so much.”

“Well congratulations. You’ve successfully convinced the world you’re both a cheater and an idiot.”

Lando collapsed back into the pillows. “Fuck.”

He covered his face with one hand, feeling bile rise in his throat.

“I didn’t cheat,” he said, barely a whisper. “But I think I just made her believe I did.”

"Delete the post. Text her. Clarify. Immediately.This is your only shot."

Lando nodded numbly. “Zak?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to ruin everything, really.”

Zak sighed, sharp, tired, but quieter now. “Then prove it. Start fixing this. And we will talk about it in team meeting on Wednesday.”

Texts messages

Lando: Y/N I didn’t cheat on you I would never do that Not now, not ever Those pics are of us. From my birthday party last year I posted it because I missed you and also because I was very drunk But mostly because I miss you

Lando: It was supposed to be a gesture I thought maybe you’d recognize it And know I was thinking about you

Lando: I didn’t tag you because I didn’t know if I should After everything After the fight

Lando: I wasn’t trying to hide you God, you’re the last person I’d ever hide I was trying to say I still cared Without pissing you off more Clearly I did the opposite and I’m so so sorry

Lando: I woke up to a furious call from Zak and still seeing your texts made me feel even worse Because you thinking I cheated on you? That’s hell I’ve done a lot of stupid things but not that

Lando: I know I act just as shitty as someone you could do that, so it's my fault I'm sorry Y/N I know I’ve said it so many times it might sound empty now, but I swear I am I understand if you hate me now

Lando: Please answer your phone Let me explain properly

Lando: I miss you so bad And I fucked everything up But I didn’t cheat

Lando: I don’t care about privacy anymore I don’t care about timing or soft launches or who’s watching I want you back

Lando: Please Text me Call me Anything

Y/N: Lando...

Y/N: I just saw your texts The girl in the photos… is me?

Lando: Yeah… I thought you’d recognize yourself

Y/N: Oh my god Lando

Y/N: You absolute fucking idiot You just soft launched me like the worst boyfriend on earth Everyone thinks you’re cheating

Lando: I thought they’d get it… I don’t know. I just wanted to try. I didn’t know how

Y/N: Oh Lando… You really are terrible at this

Lando: So bad??

Y/N: So bad.

Lando: Can we talk please?

Y/N: Of course, call me, we have a lot of things to tell each other...

@landonorris

My bad I forgot to post her pretty face @your_usurname❤️ It was her, always been her, I love you Y/N, forever thankfull for these 3 years with u even if I'm the worst bf ever sometimes

@_user1

WAIT WHAT I WASN'T READY FOR THAT 😭

@_user2

this the softest hard launch I’ve ever seen

@_user3

“forgot to post her pretty face” is crazy when she’s literally THE face

@_user4

I was about to fight you after that last post but you’re safe now. barely.

@_user5

SHE’S GORGEOUS AND YOU’RE LUCKY. DON’T FORGET IT AGAIN

@_user6

we almost lost it thinking you were soft launching someone else 😭

@_user7

She deserves 1 post per week MINIMUM. Set a reminder.

@_user8

ngl this is cute but you had us STRESSED

@_user9

so you finally understood the assignment 🔥👏

@_user10

soft launch panic turned into hard launch 😮‍💨 thank you for the emotional rollercoaster

@_user12

she’s literally the moment and you forgot??? don’t ever do that again.

Texts messages

Lando: Did I fix it? Be honest. Am I still in trouble?

Y/N: You were in so much trouble You caused global panic My friends were ready to slash your tires

Lando: I deserve that I panicked!! I wanted to post something and forgot the golden rule: Always show off the face of the goddess I get to love 😔

Y/N: The caption was cute But we still have work to do to get past this I want this to work, but that means you need to change the way you are seeing this relationship

Lando: I know I fucked up, and I acted like an idiot Because I was being too stubborn to realize you were right And I treated you terribly So I will do better every single day, you have my word

Y/N: I literally thought you moved on 💀

Lando: I would never You're the one thing I don’t want to keep private anymore I want to learn. To do better. Really To show you off the way you deserve

Y/N: You’re lucky I’m soft for you

Lando: I’m lucky for having you Always have been

Y/N: I'm touched by your efforts I'm sure if we both make efforts to communicate more it will be possible

Lando: I know we will get past this I will do everything for it Can I call you? I miss your voice

Y/N: Yeah. Call me, you disaster romantic ❤️

Lando: Also, I return in Monaco in 2 days, please let me see you and say sorry properly

Y/N: Of course, I actually have a gift for you too

Lando: Wait, what? You have a gift for me?

Lando: Didn’t I mess everything up like… epically?

Y/N: You will see...

@landonorris 📍Monaco

She bought me a tee-shirt. Loving it 😌

@_user1

He really went from “privacy is key” to “LOOK AT MY HOT GIRLFRIEND” in 3 business days 😭

@_user2

He’s obsessed as he should be

@_user3

She’s the one that bought the tee… I love their dynamic actually

@_user4

Not to be dramatic but this healed something in me

@_user5

This is Lando’s soft launch redemption arc and I’m here for it

@_user6

He said “let me overcorrect real quick” and did 🫡

@your_username

📍Monaco

Beach days are the best days with him (he insist on last pic) 🐚

@_user1

THE CAPTION? The last pic ? you know Lando BEGGED for her to add it

@_user1 Wasn't ready for Lando peek-a-boo on last pic

@_user2

Okay but how did we go from soft-launch panic attacks to this? we’re so back omg

@_user3

Not Lando going full soft boy era after almost losing her 😭💗

@_user5

She’s glowing so hard it’s blinding he better treat her right FOREVER

@_user6

I need this kind of beach day or i’ll cry

@_landonorris

You’re unreal. Please never stop looking at me like that ❤️

@_user7 OH HE’S OBSESSED NOW @_user10 I swear if he ever fumbles again we’re rioting. LOOK AT HER.

@_user11 Omg Lando you’re so handsome I want you in my boat too 😩

@_landonorris Ma’am… I am very much taken. Back up 💀 @_user17 NAH THE WAY HE SAID THAT? He’s down BAD

@your_username

For those who don't get it : mine.

@_user1

The “mine” is so personal I actually need to lie down

@_user3

This post just healed me

@_user4

Not Lando going from no soft-launching to being owned in public 💀

@_user6

HIS BACK WITH THE KISSES??? MOTHER IS WINNING

@_user7

He is officially hers and he looks so happy to be

@_landonorris

Happily taken. don’t test me. 😘

@_user8

Lando I just wanted to say you look so good

@_landonorris No. She said I’m hers. Go away

🩶 The End 🩶

The series is officially over, I hope you liked it and enjoyed the journey!

Did you see the ending coming? And if you were in Y/N’s position would you forgive Lando?

Thank you for reading 💛 feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

@angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh,@tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw,@strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty

[tender-rosiey]

lock jaw — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: when I said silence, I meant it literally btw <3

it starts the way it always does—with him talking.

satoru loves to talk. he thrives on it, really.

his voice fills every space he enters, a mix of cocky and teasing remarks, words tumbling out of him like they were just waiting for an audience.

he has no problem being that audience himself, either, monologuing even when no one’s listening.

and right now? right now, he’s very much talking at you.

“—so obviously, I had to step in, because nanamin was totally going about it the wrong way, y’know? I mean, the guy’s got skill, sure, but zero flare. no pizzazz. no—hey, are you even listening?”

you are. technically. but you don’t give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

instead, you tilt your head up at him, one brow raised in that way that always makes his grin twitch wider.

satoru doesn’t like being ignored. that’s why you do it.

and, sure enough, he scoffs. “oh, I see how it is. you think you’re cute, huh?”

you hum, noncommittal.

his fingers drum against the table, restless energy leaking into movement. “it’s a good thing you’re married to me, ‘cause—”

you lift a hand.

it’s not much. just a simple flick of your wrist.

the moment your fingers move, his words catch, cut off like someone pressed pause on a song mid-verse. his mouth is still open, brows furrowed like he can’t quite believe it.

oh, but he believes it.

your technique has always been a thorn in his side. you don’t know what makes it work, just that it does.

no one else can silence him like this—literally silence him, rendering every word, every noise, completely null the second you decide you’ve had enough.

it drives him insane.

you let a few beats of silence pass before you drop your hand. his voice snaps back into existence, mid-word.

“—ain’t no way you just did that again,” he grumbles, like this is somehow the first time.

his mouth pulls into a pout, the corners twitching with the threat of a smirk. “y’know, most wives enjoy hearing their husband talk.”

“I do,” you say, because it’s true.

satoru leans in, one hand propped beneath his chin. “so? why do you keep shutting me up, then?”

you lift your fingers again, just slightly, and watch the way his whole body stiffens in response. he goes silent before you even activate it, eyes narrowing.

“I swear—”

your fingers twitch.

nothing.

his mouth slams shut anyway, like muscle memory has kicked in. his whole face scrunches up, torn between irritation and reluctant amusement.

it takes him a second to realize you never actually used your technique, and when he does, his eye twitches.

“oh, you suck.”

you smile. “I know.”

satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “how’d I get stuck with you?”

you just hum, pretending to think. “bad luck?”

he snorts.

and just like that, whatever annoyance he was pretending to have dissolves into something else—something warmer. his head tilts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing hum. “or maybe good luck.”

you don’t let yourself react, but a wave of warmth rushes through you anyway. his eyes gleam behind his glasses, sharp and knowing. he feels it, too.

it’s always been like this with satoru—this push and pull, this game of who can get under whose skin first. he hates being shut up. but he loves being shut up by you.

that’s probably why he keeps trying.

the next time he catches you alone, it’s in the kitchen.

you’re getting water, half-distracted, when arms loop around your waist from behind, a chin dropping onto your shoulder.

“whatcha doin’?”

“getting water,” you deadpan.

“oooh. riveting.” his arms tighten just slightly, like he’s trying to keep you there. “y’know, I was thinking.”

“that’s new.”

satoru gasps, scandalized. “rude!”

he nuzzles closer, all dramatic offense and fake hurt. “as I was saying—I was thinking about how unfair it is that you get to shut me up whenever you want, but I can’t do the same to you.”

you sip your water, unimpressed. “sounds like a you problem.”

“exactly! and since we’re married, your problems are my problems—so really, we should fix this together.”

you know where this is going. you don’t like where it’s going.

“…no.”

“but I didn’t even—”

“no.”

his arms squeeze tighter, his voice dropping into that saccharine lilt. “c’mooon. just one little pact—no more silencing me, and in return…”

“in return what?” you ask, humoring him.

“in return, I’ll—uh—” he pauses. “I’ll try not to annoy you as much?”

you turn your head just enough to squint at him. “you could just not annoy me in the first place.”

“pfft. impossible.”

you roll your eyes, setting your glass down. “then no deal.”

satoru pouts. “you’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun.”

“not to me.”

you lift a hand.

his mouth clamps shut instantly.

“…I hate you.”

you drop your hand. “no, you don’t.”

his pout deepens. “no, I don’t.”

and because he’s satoru—because he’s infuriating—he suddenly dips forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

it’s quick, but deliberate, with his lips lingering just enough to tease you. by the time you turn to scold him, he’s already slipping away, whistling like nothing happened.

the sneaking doesn’t stop.

if anything, it gets worse.

he tests you in public now, dropping snarky comments just to see if you’ll silence him mid-sentence.

he tries to get the upper hand, too—kissing you without warning, murmuring things low enough that only you can hear, things designed to throw you off balance.

and it works. sometimes.

but the thing about satoru? he talks a lot.

he always has.

and that’s exactly why you win.

it happens in front of his students.

which, really, is something he should’ve seen coming.

you’re standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching as megumi practices his stance. nobara is stretching. yuji is bouncing on his feet like he’s ready to fight someone on the spot.

it’s peaceful. quiet.

and, naturally, satoru can’t have that.

he claps his hands together. “alright, kiddos! who’s ready for an essential, life-changing lesson?”

yuji perks up immediately. “ooh, what kinda lesson?”

“the most important kind,” satoru declares, straightening his posture like he’s about to reveal the secrets of the universe. “a lesson in style.”

megumi exhales sharply. nobara groans. you don’t even have to look to know they’re both already tuning him out.

but he’s not done.

“you may think you know fashion, but you don’t. not like me. there are levels to this—depths of drip, if you will—like an expertly curated wardrobe of absolute perfection.”

he gestures grandly to himself. “and lucky for you, I am both your teacher and your fashion icon.”

nobara shoots you a look. “this is every day for you, isn’t it?”

“unfortunately.”

satoru hears it. of course, he hears it.

he places a hand over his chest like you’ve wounded him. “unfortunately?” he echoes, all faux devastation. “sweetheart, you wound me.”

yuji chokes on a laugh. “wow, sensei. that was fast.”

“you don’t get it, yuji.” satoru points at you, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

“this woman right here? my beloved, my precious, my better half? she is cruel.” he sighs, tilting his head dramatically.

“every day, she shuts me up without a second thought. do you know how unfair that is? the strongest sorcerer in the world, silenced—just like that.”

megumi, who has absolutely witnessed this before, doesn’t even look up. “sounds like you deserve it.”

satoru gasps. “et tu, megumi?”

“yeah,” megumi deadpans. “et me.”

satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “see? this is what I deal with. betrayal. disrespect. my own wife using her technique against me at every turn.”

yuji raises a hand. “wait, wait—so she actually can shut you up?”

“oh, she can,” satoru grumbles. “and she does.”

nobara perks up, eyes gleaming. “no way. prove it.”

satoru freezes.

you see the exact moment realization dawns on him—what he’s just done, the challenge he’s issued on your behalf.

you see it in the way his jaw shifts, the way his weight shifts ever so slightly on his heels.

you raise a brow. “you want me to prove it?”

satoru narrows his eyes. “don’t you dare.”

you lift your hand.

“don’t you—”

silence.

satoru’s mouth is still open, but no sound comes out. nothing. not even the beginnings of a protest. his lips move, forming words you can’t hear, before he snaps his mouth shut entirely.

the silence stretches.

then—

“oh my god,” nobara breathes.

yuji loses his mind.

megumi simply nods. “good.”

satoru’s eye twitches. he points at you, accusing, but there’s nothing he can do. you smile sweetly.

after a long beat, you drop your hand.

“—believe you just did that in front of my students,” he huffs, voice returning in the middle of a sentence.

his sunglasses slide down his nose, revealing wide, scandalized eyes. “my own wife, betraying me in front of my kids.”

“they asked me to.”

“yeah,” nobara pipes up. “that was amazing. do it again.”

satoru splutters. “hey! whose side are you on?”

yuji is grinning. “I mean, sensei, that was kinda cool.”

“it was humiliating!”

“you deserved it.”

“I did not!”

you hum, faux thoughtful. “you kinda did.”

satoru stares at you, horrified. “et tu, my love?”

“yeah.” you smirk. “et me.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @dindjarins1ut @candy-s72 @lulumi1u @yoko7658 @c4xcocoa @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @llawlietluv @bluebell33 @enouche

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i throw cat hair on your black clothes

check out my buy me a coffee!

[x--sinner--x]

I love the concept of coincidental rape. Like just imagine being neighbours, but we found each other on a dating app. We talk and flirt for days, and eventually we reach the point of exchanging selfies and other spicy pictures.

And then one day I noticed something. In one of the pics you sent me, I could see my own house in the reflection. You took one right by your window and that's how I realized it.

With this newfound information I had to act upon it. I eagerly knock on your door, and you don't disappoint as you answer the door quickly.

"Hey, we haven't really met but I am your neighbour," I introduce myself, "and this is my house behind me. Can I come in? I would like to get acquainted."

I didn't know such a bombshell was talking to me on a dating app while being my neighbour.

"Yeah, sure. Please come in." The funny part is, as I am walking into the hallway of your house, you are texting me on the dating app. "Sorry daddy, but I have a visitor. I'll talk to you later. 💋💋"

And my phone pings with the notification you just sent me. While I know the cause behind the ping, you have no idea as it's just a normal notification in your eyes.

"Thanks for letting me in. You have a gorgeous house." I pause for a moment to take in the view and proceed to talk again. "And here you go. I wanted to bring you a gift to introduce myself."

"Thank you for the compliment... and for the gift as well. What is it?" You ask curiously.

"It's a pretty rare vintage wine bottle. My dad had a wine cellar and was an avid wine collector. When I moved here, I brought some of his collections with me, and I thought you would enjoy it. Wanna drink with me?"

"Aw that's lovely. And yeah sure, we could have a drink." But little did you know, I had put in a little substance to knock you out in a matter of seconds.

We both make our way to your living room, where sofas are arranged around a small glass table with some glasses. You use a bottle opener and pour some for both of us. We take seats opposite each other and I take my glass of wine and bring it up to my mouth, but I don't drink it. I waited patiently until you took the first sip and it wasn't long before that happened.

"Do you live here alone? Seems pretty big for you." I ask you a simple question, just to break the ice until you fall unconscious.

"Well, this is my friend's house actually. She has moved abroad with her family, and I was searching for a house and she rented it to me a year back." You take another pause to take a few quick sips and then continue. "Damn, this wine really tastes good. Great choi---- huh.. what's happe--"

The wine glass shatters on the ground as you pass out on your side of the sofa. I placed my glass back on the table as I had accomplished what I was hoping for.

I carry your passed out body to your bedroom and place you down gently on the bed. I whip out my phone and take some pictures of you - for keepsake purposes.

I slowly proceed to take off your clothes and look at you in all of your glory. You look much more pretty than the pictures you keep sending me in a teasing way. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I come on top of you and mount my cock next to your entrance and start thrusting it inside you.

Your pussy feels so tight even as you are passed out. Your breasts flop up and down with each thrust and when I look up at you, you look just like a dainty little flower. People might always look at your cute and demure side of you, but what I'm seeing now is a whole another side of you.

Your glowing skin puts infectious thoughts into my brain, forcing me to act upon them. I give into my desires, violating your supple skin and leaving marks as I go. I smell the perfume on your hair and it only makes me all the more feral. Your breasts are so milky that my hands sink in with every squeeze.

I take your breasts into my mouth and suck on it like a baby and it feels so good. I was picking up the pace with which my cock was moving inside your pussy. I grab onto your hips as I thrust harder, reaching further parts of your pussy with subsequent thrusts.

I think I overestimated my own resistance to cum, because it didn't take me too long, combusting all that pent up cum straight up her womb. I pull my cock out and see some of it dripping out onto the sheets - and it made me only want to continue. I pushed my cock back in her hole - in every hole in fact, taking turns - until I unloaded my cum several times in each one of them - and watching my cum drip out of every hole was very satisfying to see.

I took some more photos of you in that state, and sent you those pictures in the dating app.

"No worries baby. Here are some souvenirs of our first encounter with each other. Thanks for the return present. It was really lovely. Hope you liked all of my presents.

- Your visitor. 💋💋💋"

[starktonyx]

Would you still love me if I was a worm? - John Walker x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word count: 1.1k

Description: You hit John with a stupid question, he takes it too seriously.

Note: I swear this man is so intense he’s so fun to write, enjoy🫶🏼

Masterlist / Bucky’s version

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

The question caught him off guard.

He was piloting the team's jet to mission site, big hands gripping the controls steadily. You were in the copilot seat, feet relaxing on the dashboard, enjoying a little too much the way he looked controlling the aircraft.

His eyes were locked on the sky ahead, with a tense jaw and those furrowed brows of his... lord, concentration looked good on him.

Almost too good.

So, naturally, you had to stop it before you jumped on top of your man and gave a free show to everyone on the jet.

John just blinked twice. What on earth was that question?

He didn’t glance your way, or even bother to give it a second thought before he replied.

"No."

You opened your mouth offended, and straightened up in your seat.

"John! You didn't even think about it" You whined, a soft laugh followed.

"Please tell me I didn’t hear you right, did you say a worm?" He asked, not even trying to hide the most bewildered expression you'd ever seen on him.

"You heard me, John" You squint your eyes at him, and insist, “would you still love me if I turned into a little worm?"

He sighed this time, taking his hand off the dashboard to rub his face like he just lost multiple brain cells.

"Honey, why would you ever be a worm?" He said, softer now, like he needed to understand the root cause before proceeding.

You roll your eyes, here we go again. Of course he needed it to make sense, his brain didn’t function right if there wasn’t a logical reason behind everything.

"I really don't now, babe. Some sort of mutation?… maybe witchcraft? … a gone wrong experiment Val does on me?”

“I would never let Val experiment on you” He denied, shrugging like why would you ever consider that as a possibility.

You pause for a second and tilt your head to the side, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest from his comment.

No, no, focus. You can kiss him breathless later, after he answers the worm question.

“Alright Walker that’s fair, love that, nice move” You nodded, squinting playfully at him.

He just smirked and shrugged, smug bastard.

“Not the point, though. Do you really think it would be so crazy that I could be a worm when we have at least two superheroes named after bugs?”

He looked back to the sky, considering it for a second, but quickly turned to you again with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, actually, spiderman is technically an arachnid so ... not a bug honey" He corrected, not even trying to hide his maddening little mansplaining smirk.

"Oh shut up, John" You rolled your eyes, slapping his arm, he chuckled. "Uh huh, whatever smartass, you still have to answer. What if I was a worm, then?"

He groaned, placing his thumb and index fingers in the dent of his closed eyes, shaking his head in defeat.

He could at least try to make some sense of it.

“Okay, we’re doing this” He muttered, and you nodded enthusiastically. “Is it still you, but worm shaped? As in … do you still have consciousness? Can you communicate with me? Would you have powers, or is it just …”

He just went rambling on.

You leaned back in your seat, chuckling as you watched the gears turning behind those handsome, stressed out eyes. He was running through scenarios, possibilities, variables.

At least he looked cute while losing his mind over it.

But then, he stopped rambling, like an idea just popped in his head.

"Wait … what kind of worm?" He tilts his head to the side.

I’ll be dammed, you thought, this man didn’t know how to go halfway about anything in his life, ever.

He was fully invested by now.

"What? what do you mean?”

Now it was your turn to furrow your brows.

"What kind of worm, honey? an earthworm? marine? are you symbiotic? regenerative?… This is crucial information to know" He said, listing types like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

How did he even care this much about worm lore?

“You are the most intense person I know” You groaned, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you are the most unserious one I know, honey, don’t get me started”

You just huffed. How did your stupid question get this far?

"God I don't know John, just like a basic worm… in the dirt"

He thinks for moment, like he wasn’t exactly pleased with the answer.

"So then, biologically, you’d lose everything. You would have no brain, no higher reasoning or communication. Technically, you wouldn't even know I exist anymore"

You glared at him.

"But you would know it’s me" You quickly justified, but it didn’t seem to convince him much. "Oh my god John ... just answer the question babe. Would you still love me?"

He tapped his chin a few times, eyes darting around the jet’s cabin, still trying to find a somewhat logical answer in his head. Making you wait for it.

You knew that little asshole was just having fun mocking you.

"Uhm, I guess I could keep you safe … yeah” He nodded. “Build you a little enclosure with some nice quality dirt. It would have to be temperature controlled, for sure. Maybe even ask Val to build you a reinforced travel case? something I can clip to my gear.”

You blinked a few times, before nodding. A win is a win.

"...Thanks?"

But he was quick to shake his head.

"Although honestly, sounds like a lot of emotional labor. Don’t you think our relationship is complicated enough already?" He protested, like it'd be too much fuss.

"Hey!" You laughed, smacking his shoulder.

You both fall into a chuckle. He shakes his head again, but there's a grin in his face now.

From the back of the jet, you heard the unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter.

"Even if she was a brainless worm, she’d still be more emotionally mature than Walker" Bucky whispered to the group.

Muffled laughter followed, like a group of schoolgirls gossiping.

"They are the weirdest, I swear to god" Ava muttered, watching the way you giggled at something John said like he was the most charming idiot on earth.

"Ah captain romance … don’t you see it? he’s worm nerd and she’s worm he takes care of" Alexei chimed in.

“Shh!” Yelena hushed him, snorting. “Honestly, it tracks guys. He gives off strong ‘I talk to my houseplants’ vibes”

“Yeah, watch him hang a ‘Worm Boyfriend of the Year’ plaque next to his service medals” Bucky sneered.

More giggles. At this point they weren’t even trying to be quiet.

John turned halfway in his seat. “You guys know I can hear you, right?”

“That’s the point” Ava said, flipping him off.

“Oh no” Yelena deadpanned. “What are you gonna do, worm boy?”

“Shh! He’s gonna clip us to his belt too.”

That set them off again.

John just rolled his eyes, turning back to the controls. But you noticed the faint hint of a smile on his face.

And then almost under his breath, only for you to hear.

“I’d still love you” He muttered.

You looked over at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Eyes on the sky.”

You smirked.

This time you did jump on his lap to kiss him breathlessly, while your teammates threw disgusted grunts and gagged sounds at you.

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[verstappenverse]

Revved Up

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max grows jealous after your Instagram post attracts unwanted attention, including from an ex.

Authors Note: Do I actually believe Max posts on his own instagram these days... let alone would post with a 'scandalous' caption...no? but this is fiction so it's all good 😂

1.4k words / Masterlist

Max is sat on the plush leather couch in your shared Monaco apartment, flipping through TV channels with all the enthusiasm of a man waiting for a commercial break. He glances at the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stunning Mediterranean view, but even that isn't enough to distract him. It isn't the usual race strategy or upcoming practice sessions that has him restless, it's something far more personal.

You.

More specifically the photo you had posted on Instagram earlier that day, a simple mirror selfie, a little scandalous, but nothing crazy. You looked radiant, sure, but that was normal for you. You were always beautiful to him.

What had caught his eye was the flood of comments, the notifications popping up every few seconds as he scrolled through your post. He kept scrolling eyes narrowing as the likes kept ticking upwards. That's when he saw it.

Your ex.

The guy who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that you were Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, because no one with any sense of self-preservation would’ve dared to leave a flirty comment that would instantly set Max on edge.

'Looking sexy as always' it read, with an obnoxious little winking emoji at the end.

Max’s fingers tightened around the remote as the thought of some guy, especially your ex, thinking he had any right to compliment you in that way made his blood boil. You were his. The world knew it, but apparently some people needed reminding.

He didn’t say anything when you had walked into the apartment earlier, cheerfully oblivious to his growing annoyance. Instead he had kept quiet, but now it was simmering just under the surface.

Jealousy wasn’t a feeling Max was used to, on the track he's calm, confident, but when it came to you, his cool, collected exterior faltered. Especially when some idiot tried to act like he still had a chance.

You entered the living room now wearing a loose sweatshirt and leggings, a casual look that contrasted with the glamorous image you had posted earlier. Max glanced at you his jaw tightening, and you could instantly sense something was off.

“Max is everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head as you grabbed your phone from the counter. You didn’t even have to unlock it before he spoke.

“That picture,” he said abruptly, his Dutch accent thicker than usual, which tended to only happen when his emotions were running high. His fingers tapped on the arm of the couch in an impatient rhythm.

You furrowed your brow. “What about it?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and you could see the tension in his posture. “Your ex commented on it.”

“Oh,” you said, blinking in surprise. “I hadn't noticed.”

Max didn’t like the idea of you looking at that idiot’s comment again, but you opened the app and scrolled down anyway finding the offending message almost immediately.

You rolled your eyes and let out a laugh that was more like a snort. “Seriously? He’s such a loser. I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

Max didn’t seem to find it as amusing as you did. His frown deepened. “Yeah, well, he still thinks he can leave comments like that. Like I’m not here.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his grumpy tone. “What? Are you jealous?”

His reaction was immediate. “Jealous? Me? No.” He paused. “I mean... you know how many people liked that picture?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused by how serious he looks. “Max, it’s Instagram, I think the point is to like pictures," you laugh, but his expression doesn't change, "Max, come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, though he still sounded more irritated than actually angry. “Everyone’s drooling over you in the comments. And then there’s him.”

You can't help but chuckle again as you slide onto the couch next to him, pressing your hand against his knee. “Are you worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

He gives you a look, his lips twitching upwards at the edges, betraying the smallest hint of a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his cheek.

Max sighs, dramatically throwing his head back against the cushions. “Maybe I should just post a picture with you, remind people who you belong to.”

“Oh, who I belong to?” you tease, poking him playfully in the ribs. “That sounds a little possessive.”

There's a mischievous glint in his eye now, but you can still feel the underlying jealousy. “Can you blame me?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing harder, you can't help but enjoy how worked up he was getting over something so trivial.

Seeing him this riled up over some stupid comment was kind of… adorable. You secretly loved when he got all possessive, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“No, I guess I can’t blame you,” you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But you know I don’t care about those comments right? Especially not from my ex. I didn’t even notice it.”

“Maybe you should block him,” Max mutters, back to sounding grumpy.

You laugh again, unable to stop yourself. “Max it’s fine, if it’ll make you feel better of course I’ll block him, but I need you to know I never think about him.”

He softens a little at that, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders. “You better not.”

You smile and nuzzle further into him, the warmth of his body calming. “Besides, none of those guys commenting are Max Verstappen now are they?”

“Exactly,” Max says, and there's that cocky smile you love so much. The mood lightens as his fingers brush through your hair. “None of them stand a chance.”

You smile up at him. “And neither does my ex, so you can relax.”

He seems to settle after that, his hand lazily stroking your arm as the tension eases out of his shoulders. “Good. But still…”

“Still what?”

“I think I should post a picture with you. Just to make sure everyone knows.”

You snort. “You just want an excuse to show off.”

“Can you blame me?” he repeats, his eyes glinting as he reaches for his phone. “Come on, one picture. Let me remind everyone you’re mine.” he says as his hands move to grip your waist.

You roll your eyes, squirming under his grip, but a smile tugs at your lips. “Fine. Just one.”

Max scrolls through his phone finding the perfect shot of you two together, arms wrapped around each other tight, he quickly types out a caption and hits post. Not long after, your phone buzzes with notifications. His fans are quick, already liking and commenting on the post.

You glanced at it over his shoulder, chuckling at the caption:

Just a reminder she’s mine.

“Oh my God Max,” you groan playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “What? It’s true.”

You laugh and shake your head, leaning into him once more. “You really are something.”

“I know,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And don’t you forget it.”

The rest of the evening passes in a much lighter mood. The TV hums in the background, but neither of you pay much attention to it. Instead, you spend the evening teasing Max about his jealous streak much to his dismay.

“You know I never thought I’d see the day when Max Verstappen got jealous over a social media comment.”

He rolls his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m not jealous. I’m just… protective.”

“Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little jealous,” he admits, pulling you closer. “You are kind of amazing.”

You beam up at him, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “Well good thing I’m all yours, huh?”

“Good thing,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss you, slow and sweet. When he pulls away, he adds with a laugh. “What about... no more selfies without me in them?”

You laugh and nudge him playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

But deep down, you don't mind.

You'll never mind the way Max gets protective, a little possessive, and sometimes even a little jealous. Max has always been known as a fierce competitor on the track, but when it comes to you, his heart is just as fierce, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.