#SOLELY. down to his appearance. and nothing else.

[readingiskeepingmegoing]

I am so happy to see these two nincompoops back.

“Lyd, I was just about to…” “What the hell did you do, Kat?” she interrupted.

Oh good, Lyd will talk some sense into her.

When I reached the open doorway to his dressing room, the sight I found stopped me in my tracks. He was smiling down at Anika as she leaned in and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

Shiiiiiiiiit!

Dieter: I was hoping we could talk today.

🥺

Things started off well enough, breezing through the details regarding our performance for this week. They had us doing the fucking Lambada.

Joe and Stacia are getting pretty blatant now.

Lana chuckled, “No. No guilt at all. I did Kat a favor. Alec is an asshole. She deserved better. Besides, you know how this show works. I’m only doing what I’ve been paid to do. That’s why I’m here alone. Stacia and Joe want an update on what I know. I’m happy to say that Alec Balaska will be nothing but an afterthought as soon as the season is over.”

I have never 108'd so quickly as I have gor Lana!

I vaguely registered Anika jumping slightly from my appearance, mumbling out an, “oh shit,” under her breath. My focus, however, was solely on Lana. She sat confidently with her legs crossed and a shit-eating grin on her face. She knew I was there the entire time.

I nodded, “Thank you. I mean it. I do need to ask you for one more favor though.” Her brows arched, “Name it.” I smirked, “Fuck him up good. Please?”

Can't wait to see what's gonna happen. He deserves everything that is coming to him.

He sighed, turning back to the camera. His brows pinched together as he spoke, “We miss you.” As if on cue, Zee turned to the camera and meowed loudly, like she was agreeing. Dieter chuckled quietly, giving her another scratch on the chin before reaching to shut off the stream.

Zee wants her mama home, now!

I hoisted myself up on top of the stone wall and threw my legs over, “Ugh, this seems a lot higher than I realized…”After a centering breath, I twisted to carefully lower myself down. Not that it did any good because I lost my grip and fell into the shrubbery below with a loud, “Ooof.”

I fully expected it to be Dieter going over the wall 🤣

No one has ever had this kind of hold on me. I am in love with you. I’ve never said those words to anyone, not even my parents. So, it does mean something when I say it. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of it until the second you bumped into me.”

He pulled away, cupping my cheeks as he peered up at me with tears in his eyes and a smile. “I’ll let you lead. I don’t plan to ever dance with anyone else. You’re it for me. If that’s what it takes, then you lead… and I’ll follow.”

😭😭

That song! Oh boy 😭

I couldn’t help chuckling as I shook my head at her, “How hard did you fall?” She shrugged, “Hard enough to regret it later I suppose.” “I can’t believe you did that. You’ve been around me too long. That’s some stupid shit I would’ve done.”

🤣🤣

I sighed, “Fuck. I forgot to feed the kid.” Kat snickered as I rolled out of the bed to open the door. Zee didn't’ waste any time, sprinting into the room and jumping on the bed to snuggle up to Kat - bumping her head against Kat’s chin while letting out low growls to show her displeasure of Kat’s absence. I chuckled, “I get it Zee, I had the urge to rub all up on her, too.”

Zee gets what she wants in the end.

Then I snuggled up with both my ladies and had the best night of sleep I had had in nearly two weeks. Everything was finally right in the world again.

Both his ladies! 🥹🥹

She arched her back toward me, our stomachs touching as she began moving her hips against me. Like, really grinding against me.I sucked in a sharp breath, getting hard instantly. I stepped away with a tight smile, “Oh. Fuck. Ooook. So, imma have to learn to control my boner. Got it.”

Every time she told me that she loved me, my heart danced a little in my chest. I never realized how much I needed to hear someone say that to me until her. And now, I crave it constantly.

Everything that they have both been through has been leading them to each other and they healing they both need.

I grinned, “Yeah, I mean we’re performing first, right? I say we let fucking be our hype song this week. It’s a good way to get the adrenaline pumping.”

They praised us for our comeback after last week, noting that we were only the fourth couple to have ever performed that dance and were the best. None of the other three couples had received a perfect score. We were the first and only ones to make it happen.

Are we shocked Lana is still on her redemption tour? I don't think we can hate her anymore, can we? Then of course we have Lydia and Evan doing their good deeds as well.

Lana is fully redeemed in my eyes.Lydia and Evan need to meet. I feel like that would be an unstoppable friendship.

Closed Position: Week 10 (Lambada)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 10.6k

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not from Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Chapter Quote: "Did you…climb over the fucking fence?”

Kat’s POV

I burst through the building exit, dragging fresh air into my lungs as I struggled to breathe. Standing on stage with Dieter and being placed in the bottom three had really messed me up. We could have been voted off after that abhorrently shitty performance without any reason to see each other beyond this night. It would have been the end of everything. The dancing. Us. Except, there was no us because I had royally fucked it all up. I knew that now. I also knew what I felt for him was real. I wouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction to the possibility of never seeing him again if it wasn’t. 

I leaned against the rough brick of the building, taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly to get my emotions under control as I thought through what to do next. I needed to fix this, but I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know how to make him understand the crippling fear that had taken over every cell of my body, causing me to behave the way I had toward him. 

My phone vibrated in my hand, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my sister calling. I wasn’t shocked, figuring she had just watched the live show. With trembling hands, I swiped to answer. 

“Lyd, I was just about to…”

“What the hell did you do, Kat?” she interrupted. 

I sighed. She knew. Of course she knew. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Last time I talked to you, you were spazzing out about him and talking about putting on the breaks. So, what did you do?”

I rubbed at the throbbing pain between my brows, “I fucked up, Lyd. I really did. I’ve gotta fix it. I asked for a pause, just so I could untangle the thoughts in my head. He didn’t take it well at all. The day he had that outburst in the studio…I followed him outside. He told me he was in love with me, and I just stood there. I fucking stood there and didn’t say anything back even though I wanted to. I’ve broken him twice in the last two weeks…in the worst ways possible…and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

Lydia let out a controlled breath, “Oh, Kat. I don’t even know what to say. Why didn’t you call me? I could have talked you off the ledge.”

I shook my head, “I-I dunno. I was spiraling hard. I let it go too far. I’ve hurt him badly.”

She sighed, “You need to talk to him. Tell him everything you’re feeling. He may understand better than you think.”

I scoffed, “I’ve tried explaining it to him and all I managed to do was make things worse. I dunno how to do this.” 

“Well, you need to figure it out. Fast. You two won’t make it through another week like that. It was obvious something was wrong tonight.”

I groaned, “You’re right. I’m just…” I shook my head to clear it, “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna go in there and tell him that I’m in love with him too. I just need him to be patient with me. That’s it.” 

“It’s a start. Just…don’t hold back anymore. OK? He deserves everything because he’s giving you everything. Meet him where he’s at and it’ll all work out.” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah. You’re right. I’m gonna go talk to him now. I’ll call you later this week.” 

“Good. And Kat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to breathe. I’m sure he’s just as nervous about this as you are. Remember that. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lyd.”

I ended the call, taking one last calming breath before turning to go back inside the building. I walked with trepidation down the hallway, rehearsing in my head what I wanted to say but still fearing he wouldn’t want to speak to me. When I reached the open doorway to his dressing room, the sight I found stopped me in my tracks. He was smiling down at Anika as she leaned in and planted a kiss right on his mouth. 

A mixture of hurt and rage fizzled in my chest as I turned on my heel and made a beeline for my dressing room, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. I sank to the floor, sobbing into the tops of my knees. How could I have been so stupid? Of course he hadn’t changed. He was already moving on and back to his playboy ways. At least I saw it with my own eyes before giving myself over to him completely.

The following morning, I awoke with my stomach in knots. I wasn’t sure if I could face him. Not after seeing him with Anika and definitely not with Stacia and Joe in the room. I was trying to think about anything but Dieter as I gathered my things to leave. My phone pinged in my hand, just as I grabbed my keys on the way toward the car. 

Dieter: I’m not gonna make it to the production meeting. My therapist is threatening to call in a wellness check if I don’t come see her first thing this morning. Sorry to leave you to deal with Stacia and Joe alone.

I sighed, half in relief and half in disgust. The reprieve was nice, but I couldn’t help questioning if he was being honest in his reasoning. For all I knew, he was shacked up somewhere with Anika giving her the best sex of her life. The thought caused me to cringe as I pulled the door shut behind me and got in the car. Once I was buckled in, I inhaled deeply and replied.

Me: It’s fine. That’s more important. Maybe we should just take the day to regroup anyway? Start fresh tomorrow?

Now it seemed the roles were reversed. The thought of seeing him after last night hurt too much. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it. Truth be told, the thought of dropping out crossed my mind a couple of times as I tossed and turned in bed this morning. 

I watched the little bubbles bounce, then stop. That happened several times before his reply finally came through. 

Dieter: I was hoping we could talk today. 

I scoffed, “OH. Now you wanna talk?” 

Did he know that I saw him with Anika? Is that why he wanted to talk? Or maybe he wanted to tell me before I found out from someone else. My mind was racing, a million thoughts in a matter of seconds. I didn’t know how to handle this. The betrayal felt much worse than anything Alec ever did to me. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, typing.

Me: We can talk tomorrow. I need a day. 

Dieter: Ok. Tomorrow then. Please. 

I huffed in frustration. Please. He definitely wanted to talk to me about Anika. That one little word seemed to be pissing me off more than I already was. I didn’t really have any right to be mad at him though. Technically, we weren’t together. But fucking Anika? Of all people? It made me sick. 

It took every ounce of strength I had to compose myself for the meeting with Stacia and Joe. Luckily, Lenny called ahead to let them know Dieter had an appointment that he couldn’t miss, so it took some of the heat off. Things started off well enough, breezing through the details regarding our performance for this week. They had us doing the fucking Lambada. If they thought the Jazz performance was bad, then the Lambada was going to be nothing short of a train wreck. I had to work double time to control my facial reaction to that news. 

I had hoped that would be the end of it, but they couldn’t help interrogating me about the obvious tension this past week. “Can you fill us in on what was going on with Dieter? Why did he have an outburst like that?” Stacia asked. 

I shrugged, “Like I said, we’re old. We’re tired. Everyone has good and bad days when we rehearse this much. You should know that above anyone.” 

“You’re sure there’s nothing going on with you two? Because that seemed like more than just being tired. If there is, we need to nip it now. Another performance like that and you two are out.” 

I sighed, “And so what if we are? Why are you so worried about it? Aren’t you supposed to be unbiased about the contestants?”

Stacia’s nostrils flared, “We are. However, we do have to take ratings and promotion into consideration, as well. You two are a major draw. Especially when it comes to social media attention.” 

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Well, if they like us so fucking much, maybe they’ll have pity and vote to keep us around. Are we done here?” 

Joe rubbed at his temples, “Kat, we’re actually on your side here. We’re not the bad guys. We do wanna help.” 

My jaw clenched, “There’s nothing to help. We had an off week. That’s it. Now, I’d appreciate it if you would stop prying and meddling.”

He pursed his lips before nodding. Surrendering, for now. I stood, giving them a forced smile as I turned to exit the conference room, feeling hot from the adrenaline brought on by the experience. When I entered the lobby, I stepped into the small alcove where the vending machines were tucked away, in search of something to drink. I found myself suddenly missing my usual morning cup of Dieter provided coffee, causing my heart to clench in my chest. Everything reminded me of him now. 

I stood, taking in the selection when the sound of hushed voices carried through the wall of ferns separating the seating area from the alcove. 

“So, I heard Dieter blew you off last night?” one voice asked. 

A scoff, “How the hell did you find out about that?” It was Anika. 

An amused reply, “A little birdy told me.” I couldn’t make out who this voice belonged to, but it sounded familiar. 

“Fucking hell. Nobody can keep their mouths shut around here.”

A chuckle, “So. What happened?”

“Ugh, fine. I’d rather you know the truth than hear whatever people are saying. So, after the show was over, I noticed Dieter’s dressing room door was open. After that performance, it was obvious he and Kat were on the outs, so I thought I’d take advantage of the situation. Anyway, I went in and asked him out. He said he was waiting for Kat. I had seen Kat leave, so I told him that. He looked…I dunno, like, annoyed about it? So, I offered to…let him come back to my place. I really thought he was considering it. He seemed receptive, so I kissed him. He turned into the biggest asshole after that. Basically, told me to fuck off and said he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t nice about it. It was very hurtful the way he said it. Like I was the asshole or something.”

A sense of relief washed over me. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was all her. 

The other voice snorted out a laugh, “You know Dieter isn’t the same person anymore, right? He’s changed. He’s not into partying and one-night stands. He’s in love with Kat.”

Ankia scoffed, “Dieter Bravo doesn’t fall in love. He’s Hollywood’s biggest fuck boy.” 

“He used to be. He’s sober now. That’s not his life anymore and the fact that you can’t see or respect that does make you the asshole. You need to lay off him. It's disrespectful to Kat.”

Anika gasped, taken aback by that statement. “Why are you so worried about Kat all of a sudden? You feeling guilty for fucking her fiancé now?”

My mouth dropped open in shock. The other voice was Lana. This whole conversation had my heart racing out of my chest. A nervous sweat was now dripping down my back as I stood staring at the vending machine, unmoving. 

Lana chuckled, “No. No guilt at all. I did Kat a favor. Alec is an asshole. She deserved better. Besides, you know how this show works. I’m only doing what I’ve been paid to do. That’s why I’m here alone. Stacia and Joe want an update on what I know. I’m happy to say that Alec Balaska will be nothing but an afterthought as soon as the season is over.” 

It took everything in me to hold in the maniacal laughter that was bubbling in my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Lana fucking Thompson, of all people, had just made my day and saved my relationship with Dieter. 

Before I even registered what I was doing, my feet carried me around the wall of ferns. I paused, staring at Lana with wide eyes, mouth still agape from the news. I vaguely registered Anika jumping slightly from my appearance, mumbling out an, “oh shit,” under her breath. My focus, however, was solely on Lana. She sat confidently with her legs crossed and a shit-eating grin on her face. She knew I was there the entire time. 

She stood, approaching me with a friendly smile. “I need you to know that everything I just said was true…and I’m sorry. Even if my intentions were good, I know it was still hard on you. I’ve known guys like Alec my entire life and I know the kind of power they can have over you. I needed you to see who he really was. Regardless of what happens with Dieter, you needed to be freed from Alec.”

I could feel tears prickling behind my eyes. She wasn’t wrong. It was going to take something major to wake me up to who he really was. She gave me that.

I nodded, “Thank you. I mean it. I do need to ask you for one more favor though.”

Her brows arched, “Name it.” 

I smirked, “Fuck him up good. Please?” 

She gave me a toothy grin, “Already planned on it.” 

My smile matched hers as she pulled me in for a tight hug. She held it for a beat, then pulled away. 

“Now, go get your man. I can’t handle you two fighting anymore.” 

I chuckled, “I’ll try.” 

I went home after that. I needed to clear my head and process the events of the day. I also needed to figure out what I was going to do about Dieter. The fear was still there scratching at the door that I was frantically trying to shut in that part of my brain. I wanted to believe that what he felt was real. Everyone else seemed to think it was. They could all see it, so why couldn’t I? 

I took a page out of Dieter’s book, moving through the house to tend to my plants in the way he had taught me. Pruning. Dusting. Misting. I could see why he enjoyed it. There was a certain mindless numbness that went along with the process. It was a good mental reset. Almost like meditation. Hours passed before I realized it. As I finished up, I considered what Lydia said about watching our videos on YouTube. I had just settled on the idea of doing it when my phone started blowing up with notifications. They were from Lydia. I didn’t even get a chance to read the text because she started calling. Concerned, I answered immediately.

“Lyd? Everything OK?”

She was breathless with excitement, “Please tell me your fucking watching this?”

I huffed out a nervous laugh, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Instagram live! Dieter! I swear to God Kat, if you don’t marry that man, I will.” 

I snorted, “And how does your husband feel about that?”

“He’d probably officiate it... HOLY. SHIT. Kat! He has…you just need to watch it. He just ended it. Fuck. You need to see it. I might cry.” 

I didn’t know how to respond. She sounded like she was having a meltdown on the other end of the line. 

I sighed, “What the hell are you going on about?”

She let out the most ridiculous squeal, prompting me to pull the phone away from my ear. 

“It’s on his story. GO WATCH IT. NOW. Call me when you’re done.”

I sighed, “Ok. Ok. Just stop screeching. Please.” 

“Ok. Bye.” 

The line went dead. 

I looked at my phone, “What the actual fuck?”

Butterflies formed in the pit of my stomach. I could not comprehend what he could’ve done to have her acting like this. It actually freaked me out a little. When I opened Instagram, I had hundreds of notifications from where I had been tagged in the comments of his video. 

I groaned, “Oh god. Dieter what did you do?”  

I was hesitant to click on his story, inhaling a deep breath before taking the plunge. When the video began to play, Dieter was fiddling with the camera angle. He finally settled it where he wanted, then picked up his acoustic guitar. His sad eyes scanned the screen as he nervously chewed on his lip. Once the viewer numbers began to rise, he smiled and welcomed them. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. It hurt to see him like that. 

As he tuned the guitar, I took in the rest of him. He looked tired. His hair was a mess of fluffy curls, hanging down over his forehead. I ached to run my fingers through them. He was wearing one of his favorite threadbare t-shirts, covering tense shoulders. I wanted to hug the tension away. When he looked back up at the camera, his bottom lip appeared swollen from his teeth. I wanted to kiss away his pain. Fuck. I missed him. 

Once he had the guitar tuned to his liking, he smiled into the camera. “I promised you all I’d do more of these, so here we are. I feel like I need it today. I’ve got some things that I…I dunno…wanna get off my chest. I guess.” 

He plucked a few chords, finding his rhythm. As he did this, my eyes were drawn to several new paintings leaning against the wall in the background. I couldn’t make out what they were since they partially covered each other, but the colors were different. Brighter. It wasn’t his usual style.

He paused, staring into my soul through the screen before taking a centering breath. Then he began to play, strumming a sad melody that I wasn’t familiar with. His eyes were distant, almost melancholy as his mind drifted to another place. He began to sing the lyrics in his low raspy voice, making my skin break out in goosebumps almost immediately. 

🎶Listen HERE.

Hey, can you show me how to make it back cause I’m still tryin to find my way home Hey, can you take my hand keep me on track make sure I never ever ever let it go I would let the stars fade to nothing, nothing If I knew that I’d always have your lovin, lovin You're my gravity, you're holding me down You're the reason that my life’s turned around And in the moments that I’m hopeless I’m just hoping I can hold on to you, hold onto you

I gasped quietly, eyes prickling with tears as I took in the meaning of the words he was putting out for the world to hear. I knew Dieter. He always chose songs with intention. He was holding nothing back, laying his soul bare to get through to me. I could see it in his eyes; he meant every syllable of what he was saying. Seeing him like this, putting every emotion into his words was melting the thin protective barrier that had formed around my heart. 

The voice in my head my thoughts before bed You’re the reason that my heart beat slows To keep pace with my mind and the rhythm of time that never seems to grow old I would let the stars fade to nothing, nothing If I knew that I’d always have your lovin, lovin You're my gravity, you're holding me down You're the reason that my life’s turned around And in the moments that I’m hopeless I’m just hoping I can hold on to you, hold on

The tears streamed down my face. There was no holding them back as his voice wrapped my body in heat, warming me to my core. I had never seen or heard anything so beautiful in my life, and he was mine. If I opened myself up the way he was for me. I could feel my resolve crumbling. 

His voice rose in volume for the next verse, emphasizing the emotion behind the words. It was gravelly and rough, sending shivers down my spine and making me want him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. 

Oh I’d break my heart a million times just so I could spend my nights with you No need for us to rush I’d find every reason to make it through

He paused the strumming of his guitar, voice quieting to a velvety tone to finish it out. 

Cause you're my gravity, you're holding me down You’re the reason that my life’s turned around And in the moments that I’m hopeless I’m just hoping I can hold on to you, hold on to you. 

He played the last few notes, allowing them to quietly fade. His voice was gone, but the warmth in my body continued as a fire smoldered inside my heart. It was burning with everything that had been holding me back. He had finally broken through, and it was quickly turning into a blaze. 

His eyes were glassy as he looked into the camera, biting the inside of his cheek. Then Zee appeared, jumping up onto his shoulder in that way she does - curling her body around him as she bumped her head against his. He turned, giving her a sad smile and scratched under her chin as he mumbled, “Hey, babygirl.” 

He sighed, turning back to the camera. His brows pinched together as he spoke, “We miss you.” 

As if on cue, Zee turned to the camera and meowed loudly, like she was agreeing. Dieter chuckled quietly, giving her another scratch on the chin before reaching to shut off the stream. As he did so, the camera tilted upward. It was only the briefest glimpse before it disconnected, but it was long enough for me to pause it to see a new painting hanging on the wall. 

The painting showed the bare backside of a woman from the waist up. Her hands sat on her head, holding her dark hair in a pile and exposing her neck. The background was mostly bright red, with swirls of black, white, and a deep green color. Her spine curved slightly, posed mid movement. Defined contours of muscles showed in the shadows. My breath caught in my throat when my attention was drawn to the obvious DB scrawled in the bottom corner. It was his painting. Is that a painting of…me?

My tears quickly turned to sobs. This man had somehow managed to make me feel every emotion imaginable in the last twenty-four hours and I couldn’t even be mad about it. If anything, I wanted more. I wanted him. And I wanted him to have all of me. I was ready to take the risk. To fall for him completely. I trusted him with my fragile heart because this was real. For both of us. I knew that now.

A text came through from my sister, interrupting my emotional breakdown. 

Lydia: Did you watch it yet?

I chuckled, then typed out my response with trembling fingers.

Me: Yes. I’ve been so stupid.

Lydia: No. You just needed time. Go to him. Tell him. Or else I’m gonna come kick your ass. 

I snorted, sending her a thumbs up. I took a moment to gather myself, then opened his story again. This time, watching the comments fly by.

“This is for @dancerkatstamos, right?” “OMG, is Kat watching? @dancerkatstamos look!” “This has to be for @dancerkatstamos. I won’t accept any other explanation!” “He’s breaking my heart! @dancerkatstamos give him another chance!”

And on and on it went. Everyone seemed to know the truth before I did. It made me feel ridiculous that I had been so up my ass about this whole thing and that I had hurt Dieter so terribly in the process. I wouldn’t blame him if he refused to forgive me. 

It took me a few minutes to pull myself together. Then, I got in the car and drove to Dieter’s house. I had mixed emotions the whole way, alternating between being so nervous I felt sick and giddy at the thought of reconciling. I wanted this to be over ASAP.

When I got there, I marched up to the door and knocked. The lights were on, but I saw no movement inside. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I sighed, pulling out my phone to call. It went to voicemail. Three times. I was feeling beyond impatient to get this over with before I lost my nerve.

I groaned, “Damnit Dieter. Figures you would be unreachable right now…”

I moved to peek through the side window, allowing me to look through the kitchen into the backyard where the firepit was burning. Assuming he was there, I made my way around to the gate only to find that it too was locked. The sound of muffled classical music drifted over from the other side of the privacy fence. I puffed air out of my cheeks, now feeling frustrated. And determined. I looked around, finding the trash can sitting next to the house. 

“Ah, fuck it.” 

I knew it was a bad idea as soon as I thought of it, but that didn’t stop me from dragging the full trash can over and climbing on top of it. It allowed me to see over the top of the fence. I spotted Dieter immediately, lying in a lounger toward the far end of the yard. He was facing the ocean, watching the sunset. I tried yelling for him, but he didn’t hear me. 

I hoisted myself up on top of the stone wall and threw my legs over, “Ugh, this seems a lot higher than I realized…”

After a centering breath, I twisted to carefully lower myself down. Not that it did any good because I lost my grip and fell into the shrubbery below with a loud, “Ooof.”

I couldn’t help snorting out a laugh as I stood, pulling leaves from my hair and brushing dirt from my clothes. I glanced up, Dieter hadn’t moved. He obviously couldn’t hear anything over the music. I stumbled toward him, still brushing dirt away. I must have startled him, because he jumped as I walked around to stand in front of him. He sat up straighter, taking his sunglasses off before reaching to turn down the Bluetooth speaker next to him. 

“What the fuck, Kat?” 

He turned toward me, eyes scanning from head to toe. “How did you…Why do you have leaves in your hair?” He looked toward the house, then back to me. “Did you…climb over the fucking fence?”

I grimaced, “Yes. I tried calling. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait. We need to talk.”

He snorted, “I do have a doorbell, ya know? I can hear it out here on the speaker.”

My face heated, “Uhhh, I didn’t think about that.”

His face softened, “Are you OK? Did you fall?”

I nodded, feeling embarrassed. “The only thing injured is my dignity.”

He chuckled, letting it trail off to a few seconds of silence. His face shifted, his brows furrowing as his body tensed. “I thought you wanted to wait until tomorrow? What changed?”

I chewed on my lip, searching for the right words. “I can’t let another day go by like this. We need to talk.”

He nodded, “Look, about last night. It’s not what you think. I didn’t…”

I held up my hand to stop him, “I know. I know it was Anika. I’m not mad about that.”

His shoulders relaxed, “How do you know?”

I huffed out a laugh, “The craziest thing happened after the production meeting this morning. I overheard Lana asking Anika about it. Anika admitted that she pursued you and you blew her off.”

A wide grin spread across Dieter’s face, “I think I need to send Lana a fruit basket or something. She’s two for two.” 

My brows pinched together, “What does that mean?”

He relaxed in the lounger, “She talked some sense into me last night, helped me understand things from your point of view. It seems she's been working behind the scenes to do Stacia and Joe’s bidding, but she’s also a closet Dieterina supporter.” 

I was shocked to hear they had talked, but I couldn’t be upset about it. She had brought us together. Twice. I smiled, “So, you must be the little birdy that told her about Anika?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we discussed it.” 

I closed the distance between us, sitting on the edge of his seat - angling my body so I could look at him. The mood shifted to something more serious as the air thickened around us.

“I saw your Instagram Live.”

He stared out toward the water with a pensive look on his face, “I meant every word I said.”

He paused, finally turning to meet my gaze.

“I’m afraid too, ya know. I’m afraid that you’re finally gonna wake up and realize I’m not worthy of you. Afraid of fucking up because that’s all I know how to do. And…I’m afraid of how strong my feelings are for you. You’re entangled in my soul now. No one has ever had this kind of hold on me. I am in love with you. I’ve never said those words to anyone, not even my parents. So, it does mean something when I say it. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of it until the second you bumped into me.”

He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently before continuing. 

“All of that scares the hell out of me, but I’m willing to push through it. You’re my world now, Kat. And I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. I may have some fuck ups, but I can guarantee my past problems are in the past. I’m done with all that. Whatever was broken inside of me…you’ve fixed it. I’m a better person because of you.” 

I was crying again, holding back a sob as I nodded. “I believe you.”

He held his arms open, motioning for me to come to him. I didn’t hesitate, shifting to straddle his hips so I could hug him tightly against me. I buried my nose in his hair, deeply inhaling his scent. It was like a balm on my soul, slowly washing away all my fear and doubt. 

I sighed into his curls, “I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention. I should’ve talked to you instead of getting in my head about it. I’m willing to try. I want you to have all of me. I promise I won’t hold back anymore. I trust you and…I feel safe with you. All I ask is that you be patient with me. I’m there with you, OK? Know that.” 

He pulled away, cupping my cheeks as he peered up at me with tears in his eyes and a smile. “I’ll let you lead. I don’t plan to ever dance with anyone else. You’re it for me. If that’s what it takes, then you lead… and I’ll follow.” 

I smiled, getting emotional all over again. More tears spilled out, but these were happy tears. Relief flooded my system after he closed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine. It was tentative and soft as he hugged me closer to him. I had missed this, missed him so much. 

We broke apart, our eyes roaming each other’s faces and taking in the moment. He spoke first. “Can we never fight like this again? Please? It was torture.”

I smirked, “I agree, I don't like it either. However, there may be one positive thing to come from it…”

He reached to pull a leaf from my hair, flicking it away with a small smile. Then his brows furrowed, “Like what?” 

My lips curled upward, running my hands up his chest then around to rest at the back of his neck. “Like make up sex…”

His eyes widened, “Oh…” 

I felt him harden under me almost instantly. He snorted out a laugh against my neck as he pulled me against him.

“Well, that definitely escalated quickly. It seems little Dieter has missed you too.” 

I giggled against the top of his head, “Don’t worry, he’ll get taken care of. But…there is something I wanna do first. Can we go inside?” 

He pulled away, giving me an uneasy smile. “Should I be concerned?” 

I laughed, shaking my head. “No. Definitely not.” 

I led him inside, up the stairs to his Sanctuary. He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch me. I picked up the acoustic guitar he had been playing earlier and took a seat in his leather chair, making a point not to look at his new painting. Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep it together for this. 

He walked into the room, grabbed a throw pillow, and threw it on the floor. He sat down on the cushion, pulling his knees to his chest as he peered up at me with questioning eyes. 

“Since you did a song for me earlier, it’s only fair. I think this might help you understand what sent me on a spiral…because it’s really what started it all.” 

Dieter’s POV

I sat on the floor, watching Kat intently - intrigued as to what this was about. All the while my heart pounded out of my chest from the excitement of having her back home. For once, everything was working out in my favor, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. It was taking everything in me to sit still so Kat could have the moment she needed. 

Kat nervously chewed on her bottom lip, adjusting the strings to her liking. Or possibly stalling, I couldn’t tell which. Either way, I sat patiently waiting. She rolled her lips together, inhaling deeply as she glanced at me one last time before her fingers began to pluck the chords. Her eyes shifted, focusing on something in the distance just over my shoulder. 

The notes sounded familiar. However, I couldn’t place the song right away. But then she began to sing in a breathy raspy lower register that I had never heard from her before, making my skin tingle from head to toe. I knew the song instantly. It was the same song we had danced the Viennese Waltz to, right before everything fell apart. I stared at her in awe as she performed her version of the song, pouring emotion into every word.  🎶Listen HERE.

Sweet love, sweet love trapped in your love I've opened up, unsure I can trust My heart and I were buried in dust Free me, free us You're all I need when I'm holding you tight If you walk away, I will suffer tonight I found a man I can trust And boy, I believe in us I am terrified to love for the first time Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? I've finally found my way I am bound to you I am bound to you 

I knew I had to look like a fool, sitting there with my mouth gaping open, but I couldn’t help it. She was literally taking my breath away. I hugged my knees closer to my chest, resting my chin on them as I watched her. At some point, my eyes began to overflow with tears without me realizing it. There was a fluttering feeling in my chest unlike anything I had ever felt. She was connecting with me in a way she never had. After a brief instrumental bit, her eyes locked with mine as she went into the second verse. 

So much, so young, I've faced on my own Walls I built up became my home  I'm strong, and I'm sure there's a fire in us Sweet love, so pure  I catch my breath with just one beating heart And I brace myself, please don't tear this apart 

If I hadn't been sitting down already, I would’ve needed to. The expressiveness in her voice and eyes were making me lightheaded. I could feel every word as they left her lips. Every perfect word that she was willingly giving to me to show me how she really felt.

Suddenly the moment's here I embrace my fears All that I have been carrying all these years Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall? Fall I can trust and boy, I believe in us I am terrified to love for the first time Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? And finally found my way I am bound to you I am, ooh, I am, I’m bound to you

By the time she hit the last verse, tears began to stream down her face. Her volume rose as the raw emotion poured out of her. Then her voice faded, finishing the song with a heavy sigh and sniffle. She huffed out a nervous laugh, wiping her cheeks. The only response I could muster was to crawl over to her, taking the guitar to lay on the floor before standing up on my knees and hugging her tightly against me. 

She sobbed quietly against my shoulder, releasing whatever hurt it was she had been holding onto. My breathing was heavy as I worked to control my own emotions, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop my tears as I soothed her. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you before, but I’m sure now. I’m sure,” she mumbled through a stuttered breath. 

I sighed, “You don’t have to apologize. It’s OK. We’re OK now, and I’m still here. I always will be.” 

She pulled back, her glossy red eyes dancing over my face for a beat before cupping my cheeks and pulling me in for a gentle kiss, pausing to murmur against my lips.

“I love you.” Another kiss. Then another, “I love you.” 

I smiled, returning the kiss and the sentiment before shifting to stand. I pulled her upright with me, bending to wrap my arms around her waist. I lifted her, walking toward the bedroom while continuing to kiss her deeply as I went.

There wasn’t a second that our bodies were not touching as we undressed each other. We broke apart only briefly so that she could settle into the center of the bed. I trailed closely behind her, worshiping any bit of skin I could reach. She pulled me to hover above her, framing my hips with her thighs as we took each other in. Her amber colored eyes looked like honey flecked with melted gold in the warm glow of the setting sun coming in through the open windows. I wanted to drown in them. Her fingers scratched at the patchy stubble on my cheek before her thumb brushed across my lower lip. I dipped my chin slightly, gently kissing her palm. 

She smiled, closing the distance between us. I lined myself up with her entrance, sinking in slowly. A low whimper bubbled up from my chest as her heat surrounded me. She gasped against my mouth as I filled her. Any remaining tension that lingered between us vanished as we found home in each other’s embrace. 

We took it slowly, getting reacquainted. This time felt different. We were connecting on a much deeper level. Every touch. Every caress. Now expressing a new emotion that we openly shared with one another. I could feel it in the way she kissed me. I could see it in her eyes. There were no walls between us now. It was the most amazing feeling that I couldn’t begin to describe. 

We moved as one, in a slow rhythm that was damn near maddening as we got lost in each other. It felt like time ceased to exist as the rest of the world faded away to nothing. All I could see and feel was her. It was transcendent, almost seeming too perfect to be real as we fell over the edge together - both of us professing our love in quiet whispers against the other's lips as we let the emotions swallow us whole. Our salty tears mingled as our lips continued to move against each other, riding out our high as long as we could. 

When we finally broke apart, I pressed my forehead against hers as we tried to catch our breath. My body was trembling, making it hard for me to continue to hold myself up. I reluctantly pulled away with a grunt, moving to lay beside her. I gathered her in my arms as she wrapped herself around me. 

I sighed, “I feel like I’m dreaming. I wasn’t expecting my day to end like this.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, me either to be honest. I’m not complaining though.” 

She kissed me again, deeply. Her leg hooked around my hip as my hand drifted down her side, moving to gently squeeze her ass. She groaned, but it wasn’t a pleasurable sound. My brows furrowed as I sat up to look at her backside, finding a bruise the size of my palm on her cheek. 

I couldn’t help chuckling as I shook my head at her, “How hard did you fall?”

She shrugged, “Hard enough to regret it later I suppose.”

“I can’t believe you did that. You’ve been around me too long. That’s some stupid shit I would’ve done.” 

She smiled, “What can I say, I learned from the best.” 

“I’m gonna go get you an ice pack. Don’t move.” 

She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. I arched a brow as she smiled mischievously. 

“You’re insatiable, ya know that? Don’t worry Kitten, the night’s still young. I’m not done with you yet.”

That evening, we took turns making each other fall apart until neither of us could go any longer. After a soak in the tub, we collapsed in a heap on the bed. We were on the verge of nodding off when Zee started her loud caterwauling wail outside the bedroom door. 

I sighed, “Fuck. I forgot to feed the kid.” 

Kat snickered as I rolled out of the bed to open the door. Zee didn't’ waste any time, sprinting into the room and jumping on the bed to snuggle up to Kat - bumping her head against Kat’s chin while letting out low growls to show her displeasure of Kat’s absence. 

I chuckled, “I get it Zee, I had the urge to rub all up on her, too.” 

Kat snorted out a laugh into Zee’s fur. 

“I’m gonna go make her dinner. I’ll be back.” 

Just as I sat Zee’s plate down on her mat, Kat appeared in the kitchen. She gave Zee one last nuzzle before sitting her down next to her bowl. 

“I couldn’t get her to leave. I was thirsty anyway.”

I chuckled, “I think she missed you almost as much as I did.”

I moved to the fridge, “You want water? Or something else?”

“Water’s fine.” 

After handing her a cold bottle, I leaned against the counter watching her. She stood there in nothing but a T-shirt. My T-shirt. Guzzling the water down like she had just run a marathon. When she finished, she offered me the bottle but I shook my head, getting lost in my thoughts. I wanted to tell her more about my meeting with Lana.

“I should probably tell you where I ran into Lana last night…I don’t want you to think I’m keeping anything from you.” 

Her brows furrowed, her jaw flexing as she nodded for me to continue. 

“I was…at a bar.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. 

I inhaled a centering breath, “I was alone. I didn’t order any alcohol, but I thought about it. I had just talked myself out of it when Lana sat down next to me. She came over to talk me out of a bad decision.” 

Kat nodded, “Thank you for telling me…” She sat the bottle of water down, coming to stand at my side. “What made you wanna go?”

I pursed my lips, considering my answer. “I think…it was the thing with Anika. I felt like I fucked up. Badly. I saw you walking away after she kissed me. I knew it hurt you to see that. So, I let my self-hatred and negative thinking run away with me for a minute, but I pulled back. I didn’t wanna ruin everything that I’ve worked toward. And not just with you, but my career…and my life. I can never go back to what I was before, no matter what happens. No matter how bad things get…I just can’t.”   

She surprised me with a small smile. “I’m proud of you for telling me and admitting that you had a weak moment. I know it takes a certain amount of growth to be able to do that. I mean, it’s part of recovery. Weak moments are gonna happen.”

I huffed out a sigh of relief as she grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight embrace. 

“I was worried you would be upset over it.” 

She pulled back, “I’m sad you felt the urge for it, but I know it happens. That’s why it’s important for you to have support and to feel like you can reach out when you need to. You need people you feel safe with during those vulnerable moments, and you have them now. And you’re being completely open and honest about it all. That’s why I know I don’t need to worry. You’re doing everything right. And we’re gonna do this together. Never be afraid to tell me if you’re struggling. I can only fault you if you lie about it.”

I felt like bursting into tears, “I really don’t deserve you.”

She scoffed, “Yes you do. You deserve to be happy just like everyone else.”

I smiled, cupping her cheeks and giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

“Let’s go get some rest. We’re gonna have a busy day tomorrow.” 

I took her hand and led her upstairs. Halfway up, Zee ran past us, beating us to bed. 

Then I snuggled up with both my ladies and had the best night of sleep I had had in nearly two weeks. Everything was finally right in the world again.

The next morning, Kat and I were at the dance studio before the doors were unlocked. Having already lost a day of rehearsal, we were worried but determined to be back in the top scores. The competition was down to five couples this week. If we wanted to win, we had zero room for error from this point on. 

As we went through our stretching routine, Kat got me up to speed on this week’s performance.

“I’ll be honest, I’m nervous about this one. The Lambada is not one that I have a lot of experience with. It’s not been done on the show since 2009 and there’s only been three couples to do it.”

My brows furrowed, “Why?”

She shrugged, “I have no idea. Something about the format of the show. I’m not sure the judges were huge fans either. This dance though…we're either gonna knock it out of the park with your loose hips or we’re going down with an epic failure.” 

I cringed, “That sounds encouraging.”

She stood, then pulled me up with her. “We may have an advantage though.” 

I huffed out a laugh, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

She smiled mischievously, “We don’t have a problem getting up close and personal with each other. We also already have a lot of practice with the hip thrusting.” 

I couldn’t help it. I cackled. 

She laughed, “I’m just calling it as I see it.” 

I moved to stand in front of her, awaiting instruction.

“We also have a very strong connection, which is to our benefit too. This is a Latin dance with a lot of movement. It has elements of the Salsa, Samba, and Merengue. You did well with the Salsa, so I think you can handle it. The steps are slow, quick, quick, slow while our entire bodies are undulating.”

I smirked, “Sounds like a piece of cake.”

She held up her finger to silence me, “The Lambada is often called the forbidden dance. It’s meant to be sensual and erotic with close embraces and two bodies moving as one. And not in the same way as the Rumba or the Tango. This is faster, more upbeat.”

I chuckled, “I still see no problem here.”

She rolled her eyes, “The problem is we’re old and it’s gonna wear us out. And well…”

She moved in closer, wrapping my arms around her middle and threw hers around my neck. There were only a few inches between us. 

“You know the beginning of Dirty Dancing when it shows all the staff dancing? Grinding up on each other?” 

I raised a brow and nodded, “Yeah, why?”

She arched her back toward me, our stomachs touching as she began moving her hips against me. Like, really grinding against me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, getting hard instantly. I stepped away with a tight smile, “Oh. Fuck. Ooook. So, imma have to learn to control my boner. Got it.” 

She snickered, “Yeah, that.” 

I sighed, “Well, the safest bet would be to have sex right before we go on stage. That should keep him down through the performance at least.”

Kat burst into giggles, “Thank God we talked yesterday, or this would have ended so badly…or not. Who knows?”

“Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about it. That would have been terrible.” 

She cleared her throat, “Ok, let’s get serious. How erotic do you wanna get?”

I shrugged, “Don’t hold back. You know me, if they want a show…Imma give em one.” 

And with that, we began building our routine. We worked it out quickly, damn near reading each other’s mind in the process. We were back and more in sync than we’d ever been. We may have lost a day of rehearsal, but we more than made up for it. By the end of the session, we had a solid plan. It only needed practicing and tweaking. 

By the time behind the scenes filming rolled around on Thursday, we had the routine down. With both of us being in a significantly better mood this week and on the same page with everything, we took the opportunity to relax and have fun. We were full of jokes, teasing each other and breaking into giggling fits over the tiniest things. The camera crew seemed surprised, most likely expecting more angry outbursts and bickering given how things had been going. Overall, it was a good day. The best part was that the day ended with Kat at home with me and Zee. 

The rest of the week went by in a blur of rehearsals, self-care to make sure our bodies didn’t give out on us, and just being together. Our bond felt stronger than ever. Kat seemed happy, completely at ease. Whatever had been plaguing her thoughts was now long gone. She no longer held back, sharing her thoughts and feelings whenever it struck her to do so. Every time she told me that she loved me, my heart danced a little in my chest. I never realized how much I needed to hear someone say that to me until her. And now, I crave it constantly. 

It was show day before we knew it. Kat and I were there bright and early, the first to go through camera blocking as always. We performed flawlessly each time, both of us all smiles. Things felt different on and off the dance floor this time. Kat was more relaxed in her interactions with me, not hesitating to touch me in any way. There was a flirtiness to her that others were definitely picking up on. The whispers and stares did not go unnoticed by us. None of it seemed to bother or deter her. Given that we only had two weeks left, I figured she was ready to throw caution to the wind. 

Since I had missed the production meeting, I had no idea what our costumes looked like. I was surprised to find the color of the week was much brighter than normal. They had Kat in a bright yellow fringe dress that left very little to the imagination. It emphasized her thighs and hips in a way that had me absolutely salivating. I knew it would be a miracle if I made it through the performance without little Bravo making a special guest appearance. I made sure to take a moment to snap a few pictures for social media, and a few other sexier ones for myself.

They had me in a matching yellow shirt with navy trousers. The look was topped off with a navy blazer with light blue and yellow stripes. I didn’t hate it. It was something fun and different, but I doubted the blazer was going to stay. I was sweating bullets before I even put it on. Between nerves and Kat looking fucking amazing, my blood was boiling. 

Kat and I were back to our usual antics during hair and makeup, causing a scene of boisterous laughter with our favorite crew as they worked to beautify us. They ended up going with the normal slicked back hair for me. They left Kat’s hair down, styling it into soft bouncy waves that I was dying to run my fingers through. It really was going to be a battle of willpower to behave myself today. 

We had dress rehearsal after that. We sailed through without issue, aside from the semi I was sporting from Kat rubbing up on me with all her exposed skin. It had her giggling against my neck as I pulled her in for a hug when the routine concluded. We stayed like that for what was probably too long before pulling apart as I tried to think about anything but her up against me. 

We were given leave to entertain ourselves until the show started. So, we went back to my dressing room. Evan was kind enough to drop off some lunch for us because whatever it was catering had wasn’t it. He didn’t stick around for long, giving us a sly smile and a wink as he slinked out the door while being sure to lock it behind him. He must have been picking up on the vibe. 

Kat chuckled, “I don’t know why he feels the need to lock the door. Like we’re gonna be getting up to mischief or something.”

I arched a brow at her, “Aren’t we? I was only half joking about the sex before performing thing the other day…”

She smirked, “Oh really?”

I grinned, “Yeah, I mean we’re performing first, right? I say we let fucking be our hype song this week. It’s a good way to get the adrenaline pumping.”

She snorted out a laugh, standing from where she was perched on the vanity. 

“All right Bravo, you win.” 

She turned her back to me, undoing the skinny strap across her back and the one around her neck. The barely there fabric in the front slipped downward to where she caught it just before it revealed anything. 

“How do you want me?” she asked with a seductive tone. 

My mouth fell open, “Umm, one moment.”

I stood from my seat, stripping out of my costume - having enough sense to put it on a hanger rather than wadding it up on the floor for once. Kat waited, unmoving, as she watched me in the mirror. I approached her, pulling her hair to the side to kiss down her neck and back as I slid her costume down her thighs. I laid it across one of the empty chairs before taking my usual seat. 

I motioned for her to come to me. Once she was standing between my open thighs, I turned her to face away from me. I left a wet path of kisses along her side, working my way down to give her a little nip on her ass cheek, eliciting a giggle that she tried to muffle with her hand. I gently rubbed at the bruise on the other side, shaking my head at her ridiculous behavior. 

Then my hand traveled lower, rubbing between her already soaking wet folds. I worked to open her up and get her ready for me. Just when her body began to tremble, I stopped. My leg wedged between her knees as my hands found her hips, pulling her to sit right where I wanted her. She let out a throaty groan, taking me in deep. I guided her movements, keeping it slow and teasing. She tucked her chin against her chest, biting back her breathy moans as she tried to keep it together. I leaned back in the chair, pulling her to lay against my chest - making sure to gather her hair to the side and drape it over my shoulder. 

As I wrapped my arms around her torso, she spread her legs wide, allowing me the space to move. I buried my face in the curve of her neck, thrusting slowly. Her hand moved to reach for my hair, but I grabbed it mid-way and tutted at her as I continued to hold on to it. I knew there would be no time to fix that mess if I let her get hold of it. 

Within minutes she was on the edge again, all it took was for me to reach down to the apex of her thighs and rub tight circles in just the right spot. She worked to free one of her hands from my grip, biting into the plushy spot just under her thumb to hold back the moans as she trembled on top of me. I moved faster, in almost a relentless pace following behind her soon after. I had to resist the urge to bite onto her shoulder to muffle the sounds of my own pleasure just as one of the production assistants gave the twenty-minute warning outside my door. Kat leaned her head against mine, both of us holding in a laugh as I shifted to sit us upright in the seat. 

I chuckled against her shoulder, giving it one last kiss. “That was perfect timing. Guess we better get dressed. Hop up, I’ve got some towels in my bag.”

She huffed out a laugh as she stood, “Came prepared, did ya?”

I pulled said towels from the bag and shrugged, “I gotta be with you around. But also, it was either this or my hand. Something had to happen.” 

I gave her one of the towels, both of us smiling like a couple of fools as we wiped away the sweat and wetness. I helped Kat with her costume, fastening the straps and making sure everything was secure. She hadn’t even bothered to go to her dressing room this morning, leaving her bag in mine instead. That turned out to be a good thing so she could touch up her makeup and hair while I got dressed. 

By the time we made it to the staging area, we had seven minutes to spare before performing. It was just enough time for the hair and makeup crew to give us one last look over before we were taking our spots on the dance floor. The burst of adrenaline and everything else pumping through my body made the moment seem hazy. It was almost dreamlike as we eyed each other in the dim lighting. 

The spotlights dropped down on us as the opening trumpet sounds of 🎶Ain’t it Funny began to play from the band. Kat was in her zone, her eyes blazing with that fire I loved so much. Our energy was off the charts. We were perfectly synchronized as we did our twists and spins, managing to keep our frame compact with full control of our movements. Our bodies rolled in tandem, transitioning to dips and sensual hip action that had the audience going insane. 

While we’d had some steamy performances in the past, this one took it to a whole new level. There was a different vibe. It was sexy in a teasing sort of way. We held nothing back, showcasing the connection between us as we moved through the intricate step combos. We could feel it before the dance was over, we knew it was one of our best performances to date. 

We tried to play it cool while we waited for our scores, but the glances passing between the two of us said it all. We knew we were not going home tonight, and we were right. Kat and I held on to each other as each score of ten was read off by the judges. They praised us for our comeback after last week, noting that we were only the fourth couple to have ever performed that dance and were the best. None of the other three couples had received a perfect score. We were the first and only ones to make it happen. 

Kat and I were on cloud nine for the rest of the evening, both of us giving toothy grins every time the cast or crew complimented us. Marc and Stefanie were still our biggest cheerleaders, acting just as excited about our performance as we were. We returned the favor of course, even if they did score one point lower than us. 

The scowls from Alec were obvious. He made no attempt to hide his disdain for us. That did nothing to dampen our mood, especially when we caught a glimpse of Lana shooting a small smile our way when Alec had his back turned. If anything, it only made the entire situation more entertaining. 

Once the show was over, we joined Marc and Stefanie at a nearby burger joint to celebrate making it to the final four. It was nice to spend time with new friends and discuss our feelings about the show. We also tried to strategize and make guesses about what they were going to have us do for the finale. In a way, it gave me a better idea of what to expect and helped calm some of the nerves that were brewing in the pit of my stomach.

As of tonight, it was down to us, Marc and Stefanie, Alec and Lana, and Anika and her partner. The finale was shaping up to be full of tension and intense competition. Our main goal was to keep Alec and Anika from winning, but deep-down Kat and I really wanted that fucking trophy. She deserved to end her time on the show with a bang, and I wanted to prove everyone who doubted me wrong. There was no stopping us now.

Next: Week 11

✨FUN FACT: What Kat said about no one doing the Lambada on the show since 2009 is true! There have only been 3 couples out of 33 seasons (so far) to have performed this dance. None of which received perfect scores. I have linked them below if you're interested. Video 1 Video 2 Video 3

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Fucking finally! Right? Our babies are back together! And look at Dieter being all sappy and soft. I love him. Are we shocked Lana is still on her redemption tour? I don't think we can hate her anymore, can we? Then of course we have Lydia and Evan doing their good deeds as well. How about that Instagram Live? Doesn't that song just tear your heart out? And Zee getting in on the action? I think I'd climb over a fence after that too. And what about Kat pouring her little heart out as well? That girl is laying it all out there now. So, we have 2 chapters and the epilogue left after this. Can you believe it? The next chapter is going to be drama filled. All of this dancing is finally going to take it's toll on Kat. Dieter is going to be in a tizzy, taking care of his lady. On top of that, it's Samba week. Yay for more Latin dancing...or not? Alec will be up to his shady shit (yeah, he's not done yet). I will say, the last two chapters will probably be much shorter since things are wrapping up. I mean, I say that, but I may shock myself. You never know with me.

And finally, some housekeeping. I'm sure you've noticed by now that I have struck the "Moonstruck" part of my name. There was a reason for that (aside form it being too fucking long). Expansion! As you can see, I am posting this chapter from a new sideblog. This blog will be solely dedicated to my writing. No nonsense posts. I will eventually be migrating everything over here. Why you ask? I did a poll a while back about this. While most preferred to be tagged, a decent number would rather follow and subscribe to notifications. So, you now have the option to do that without all the clutter. I will still be tagging folks though.

I also added something else new, the Chaos Corner! It will be dedicated to all things Dieter (fics, media, memes, fan art, etc). Fics will be linked by categories and tropes. So go have a look and find some new content. I welcome you to send me some goods to share with the chaos crew. Our trashy friends need all the Dieter content. Lastly, I want to do a quick shutout to my first loves, Dieter and Talia. It is the two year anniversary of Destiny & Deliverance this week. If I can get my shit together, I'm going to try to do a little something for them.

That's it. That's all I've got. Until next time, 💜Mysty

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[moonstruckme]

A Winter Wonderland

summary: you marvel at the beauty of your Christmas tree, and your boyfriends marvel at you

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 911 words

You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s very lulling, the sound of the fireplace crackling a few feet away, the scent of pine needles, and the view of a forest unlike any other stretching out in front of you. Lights of blue and green and red filter through the thicket, and poking through you can see the edge of a handmade paper star, the fuzzy end of a dog’s tail. Your Christmas tree from below. 

“What are you doing?” Sirius has the half amused tone of when he feels like he’s caught you at something odd and he hasn’t decided whether to rag you or to join you yet. 

“Admiring our decorating,” you reply. “We did a good job.” 

“You’re supposed to look at it from in front of the tree, sweetness.” 

“It looks nice from there, too,” you allow, “but nobody ever appreciates it from down here.” 

There’s a new set of footsteps, a big hand on your knee. “Are the branches not scraping you?” James asks curiously. 

“Only sometimes.” 

You hear a smile in his voice. “It’s worth it, though, eh?”

You hum in affirmation. 

“Well, this I’ve gotta see.” 

James is bigger than you are. You lift the branches for him as he shoots his top half in beside you, but when you let go they come to rest on his chest. He grins at you before looking at anything else. A classic James Potter smile, heartfelt and breathtakingly handsome.

“Hi, angel.” 

“Hi.” You reach for his glasses, carefully readjusting them on his nose. 

“It smells nice in here.” 

“It does,” you agree, pleased to be sharing it. You turn your face upward again. James follows suit. “It looks like another world.” 

“It is very pretty,” he says. Multicolored lights spiraling upward, the odd ornament sticking in through the branches, the tree itself lush and fantastical in dark green. “You’re right, we did a good job decorating.” 

“Don’t you sort of want to live here?” you ask on a sigh.

“You mean here in our sitting room?”

“No, here in the forest.” 

“Ah.” James gives this some thought. “It is nice, but I quite like my life the way it is.” 

You turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you, glasses reflecting a rainbow of lights and brown eyes warmer than warm behind them. Your insides go soupy. 

“I like it, too,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t want to go if you all couldn’t come with me. Maybe we could move our place there. Or just visit sometimes, like camping.” 

James smiles at you. A dimple appears in his left cheek. “You mean on weekends?”

“Sure.” 

“I’m sure we could make that happen, lovely.” 

“Oi.” Sirius gives your knee a little shake. By the way James looks down, you guess your boyfriend’s doing the same to him. “What are you two whispering about down there?”

“He’s jealous.” James drops his voice into a deeper whisper, louder yet somehow less intelligible, solely to provoke Sirius. “He knows this view is better than in front of the tree.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, smiling at his antics. “I think he’s just worried we’re discussing his Christmas gifts.” 

Another shake to your knee, more insistent this time. “What is going on down there?” 

“Nothing,” James sing-songs. 

“Who’s left a pot of soup on the stove?” asks Remus, voice becoming clearer as he comes into the room.

“Oh, that was me,” you say. “It’s just simmering, don’t worry.” 

“It’s…what the fuck…” 

“I know,” Sirius says emphatically. 

“Dovey, why are you and James’ legs sticking out from under the tree like the Wicked Witch of the East?”

“Why do you assume it was her idea?” asks Sirius, at the same time as James asks, “Who’s the Wicked Witch of the East?” 

“I’m admiring our tree,” you tell Remus placidly.

“It does look really cool from down here,” James advocates for you. “Gives a new perspective on the decorating.” 

Remus makes an amused humming sound. “That’s really nice, but your soup’s nearly boiling over, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, no.” You start to wiggle out from underneath the tree. Sirius’ hands wrap around your ankles, giving you a helpful tug the rest of the way. You grin up at him. “Sorry,” you say to Remus, “I must have set the stove too high.” 

He smiles, reaching for you. “That’s okay.” He takes the ends of your hair between his fingers. “How’d you manage to get your hair wet?” 

“Hm?” You look. “Oh, it must have been in the tree’s water. I didn’t notice.” 

“There’ll be pine needles in it, too, then,” Sirius laughs. 

Remus shakes his head, but he’s looking at you like you’re one of his favorite things in the world. One of his favorite three things, for sure. 

“How about,” he suggests, “I go turn down the heat on your soup, and Sirius helps you get all the tree bits out of your hair?”

“That’s nice of you.” You push up on your toes, kissing Remus’ cheek. “Thanks.” 

Remus presses one to your lips in return, and Sirius takes your hand, leading you to the bathroom. 

“Did you dunk your hair in the water, too, Prongsie?” he asks when James follows. 

“I don’t think so,” says James. “I just want to see if her hair smells like Christmas tree.” 

Sirius hums. You giggle when he makes a show of bringing your hair to his nose, sniffing curiously. “It does, actually.”

[totalswag]

hey i love your work so much and if it’s not to much go ask i was wondering if you could do a fic where fem!reader is part of the cast on obx and she is really close friends with drew where they are flirting and what not and everyone ships them and they are at an interview with the rest of the cast and that gets brought up? sorry if that doesn’t make sense! if you don’t have time it’s completely

behind the scenes ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note thank you so much lovie!! i'm open to take requests and write them. i've thought of this concept before and all i gotta say is thank you for requesting this because I NEED THIS!! super sorry for not posting for a small while, there were stuff i needed to take care of first.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.

warning(s) flirting, shipping, co-stars secretly like each other?

Being apart of the Outer Banks cast has been such a blessing. You've created relationships with people you consider family now and who you can count on no matter what the circumstances are. Being on set for weeks on end filming scenes and making memories is what you look forward to most.

You grew closer with Drew Starkey because your characters are dating in the show and always next together on set too. Drew has become someone that you consider very important in your life.

You joined the Outer Banks cast during the second season. Drew appeared in a couple appearances near the end of the season, implying that he is interested in someone— love interest. You recall fans going nuts trying to figure out if this will continue. Fast forward two seasons, and your characters are together.

After a long day of filming, the cast decided to gather for dinner at a local beachside restaurant. The atmosphere was vibrant, with laughter and the sound of waves breaking on the shore. You and Drew were seated next to each other, much to the joy of your cast members, who were closely watching your interaction with Drew.

"Drew, look at the camera," you softly sang, your phone in your hand on the table, Drew in the frame of the video— he was speaking to Rudy across the table. He gives you a look that shows he knows you are heard before looking down at your phone and waving.

"Oh! "Hello there," he smiles even more when he sees himself on the screen—you giggle at the end of the video before sharing it to your Instagram story. 

"You posted it on your story?" he inquires, his body language focused solely on you. "I obviously had to; it was cute," you said as you placed your phone on the table next to your wallet. You suddenly felt nervous in front of Drew.

He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. "Cute, huh?" He smirks and smiles, patting your thigh.

Fans began to ship you and Drew together as your relationship grew. The chemistry between you two is clearly obvious on and off screen, which is why you perform scenarios so well. Fans go berserk every time you post something on social media about Drew.

You two flirt without even realizing it at times. You will compliment each other as if you were a relationship, but this is nothing out of the norm for you two. Even your cast members have boarded the train and made a few comments about when you'll finish up together. 

You can't lie, he's an attractive young man. There's no doubt about that.

Few hours after you posted on your story, fans have been discussing the video you shared in which Drew looks at you as if you are the most beautiful person on the planet and no one else is present.

Today, you and the cast will be doing interviews all day to promote Season four. For the first portion, everyone will sit in the same room as the interviewer, but thereafter everyone will be separated.

"Alright, everyone," said the interviewer, "we've got some fun questions from fans today, and they're dying to know more about the dynamic between some of our favorite cast members."

Everyone said "Oooo," anxious to see what else the interviewer would say.

"Let's start with a fan favorite," the interviewer added, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "There's been a lot of talk about the chemistry between you two." She pointed to Drew and you. "Care to share any insights on that?"

Your stomach dropped.

The question hung in the air, drawing a chorus of “Oohs” and playful nudges from the cast. You felt your cheeks heat up as you exchanged a glance with Drew. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips

"Well," Drew said, leaning in slightly. "Y/N and I have always been close. We simply clicked, you know?"

"Really?" the interviewer asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because the way you two flirt on and off set is pretty convincing."

You laughed and shook your head. "We simply have fun with it. Drew is a terrific person, and we like joking around. "It keeps things moving on set."

"From our first reading together, I knew she was going to be a great co star of mine and we've formed an amazing bond throughout the years" Drew says with his hands. In gratitude, you give him a pat on the back.

Your cast mates' eyes are constantly drawn to you and Drew since they can tell you have mutual feelings for each other. Granted, you two have scenes together all the time and have developed a strong bond. However, you consider being more than friends with him.

The interview continued on with more questions popping up that were exciting to answer. In the back of your mind you were thinking about the question about Drew and you— do you want more?

Later that evening, you and Drew returned to your apartment and relaxed in your living room. The city lights outside your window gave a soft glow across the room, and the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. You'd both changed into more comfortable clothes, eager to relax after a long day.

"Today was something, huh?" Drew murmured, breaking the silence as he sprawled down on your couch, seemingly at peace.

"Yeah, it was," you said, sitting next to him. "They really went all in on the whole shipping thing."

Drew chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "Yes, they did. "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

He sat up, his face instantly serious. "About Us. I mean, everybody sees it. Hell, we see it, don't we?

Your breath became locked in your throat. The playful flirtation, the lingering touches, the way your heart raced whenever he was close—it all hinted at something more than friendship. However, hearing him say it aloud was another. It made it real.

"I suppose we do," you confessed gently.

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[riddlesrizzler]

Greenhouse Seven

summary: When Hogwarts’ weed supply runs dry, Mattheo Riddle discovers the last place he expected to find salvation-a Hufflepuff characters: mattheo riddle. hufflepff! reader. mentions of theo nott and enzo berkshire. warnings: For clarity !!!! while the terms weed supplier and drug dealer are sometimes used interchangeably, there’s a difference. A weed supplier typically focuses solely on the distribution or growth of marijuana, whereas a drug dealer usually refers to someone dealing a variety of illegal substances. This story does not portray the characters as drug dealers. They’re strictly weed suppliers - nothing more. It’s a lighthearted story with a bit of magical mischief (and maybe some smoke in the air), but no involvement with any other substances. IM A CHILD OF THE DARE PROGRAM word count: 1.1k

It started with Theo flipping the stash drawer upside down like the weed would miraculously appear behind a sock.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice muffled as he dug deeper. “We’re officially f-”

“We’re not out,” Enzo interrupted from across the dorm, kicking his feet up onto the arm of the couch as he lazily stirred sugar into his tea. His curls were damp from the shower, and his tie hung loose around his neck like he hadn't decided whether today even mattered. “We’re just… momentarily low.”

“Theo’s right,” Mattheo cut in from the window seat, his tone sharper, quieter. His dark eyes were fixed on the swirling October fog outside, but his attention was clearly locked on the conversation. “We’ve got maybe a week. Less if the Gryffindors keep ordering those massive bundles.”

Enzo sat up straighter. “Okay, so we improvise. I could charm the next few grams into stretching-”

“We’re not selling trash,” Mattheo snapped. “We built a reputation. You want to throw that down the toilet so we can sell watered-down garbage?”

Theo sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “We’ve got to find a new grower. Fast.”

A tense silence fell, thick with the weight of urgency. The dorm, usually buzzing with late-night laughter and the scent of burned parchment, suddenly felt smaller. Colder. Even the enchanted record player in the corner seemed to hum quieter.

Then, like a switch had been flipped in his brain, Theo’s head shot up.

“Wait. Ravenclaw sixth year - Avery - I overheard him talking in the corridor last week. Swore someone was growing the real stuff. Said something about ‘lush leaves in a forgotten greenhouse.’ I didn’t think much of it at the time…”

Mattheo turned to face him fully now, brow lifting with curiosity. “Which greenhouse?”

“I think he said Seven.”

Enzo blinked. “Greenhouse Seven’s a graveyard. Nothing’s grown there since second year. Sprout keeps it locked up.”

Mattheo stood without another word, grabbing his coat and slinging it over his shoulder with a fluid motion.

“I’ll go check it out.”

He didn’t wait for input. The boys had learned long ago that when Mattheo decided something, he rarely looked back.

By the time he reached the edge of the grounds, Greenhouse Seven was almost completely swallowed by mist and ivy. The structure sagged with age, glass panes cracked and grimy, its metal frame creaking against the autumn wind. It looked forgotten - haunted, even - and yet something about it pulsed with quiet life.

The warped wooden door gave with a reluctant groan, and Mattheo stepped inside.

It was warm - unnaturally so, like the air inside obeyed a different season. A faint golden light flickered from deep within the tangled space, revealing rows of chaos: overturned pots, broken shelves, rusted shears hanging from pegs. But further in, where the shadows grew softer, something else came into view.

Nestled in the back, beneath a canopy of hanging fairy lights and softly glowing enchanted stones, was a pocket of vivid green. Neatly lined rows of thriving marijuana plants stood proud and healthy - glistening under the lights like they knew they were special.

And kneeling between them, humming to herself and dusted with dirt and calm like a walking spell, was a Hufflepuff girl.

You.

Your jumper was oversized and patchy at the elbows, sleeves pushed up to your forearms as your fingers gently examined the soil. Your hair was twisted into a lazy knot, strands framing your face where the light caught them. There was a steaming chipped mug at your side, a battered gardening journal open beside it. The entire scene felt… unreal. Peaceful.

You didn’t notice him at first. Not until the door groaned shut behind him.

“Who-?” you stood suddenly, wand half-raised, alarm flaring in your eyes.

Mattheo raised both hands in mock surrender, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Relax, flower. Not here to rat you out.”

Your brow pinched with suspicion. “Then what are you doing in my greenhouse?”

Mattheo stepped further into the light, eyeing the plants with clear appreciation. “Your greenhouse?”

“Well, Professor Sprout doesn’t exactly use it. I… repurposed it.”

His gaze flicked back to you. Cute. Smart. Kind of dangerous.

“I’m Mattheo,” he said simply, like the name should carry meaning.

You arched an unimpressed brow. “And?”

He chuckled, charmed despite himself. “I came on behalf of my… associates.”

“Associates?”

“You could say we supply Hogwarts,” he said, tone casual. “Used to, anyway. Until we ran low.”

You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily. “And now what? You want to steal mine?”

Mattheo shook his head, smile faint. “I don’t steal from artists. I collaborate with them.”

You didn’t laugh, but you didn’t hex him either - which he took as a win.

“Look,” he continued, stepping closer. “We’ve got reach. Systems. Loyal buyers. You’ve clearly got the product. Let’s help each other out.”

You stared at him, brow knit. “You’re asking me to team up with a bunch of Slytherins?”

“Not just any Slytherins,” he replied, voice a little lower now. “The ones who can make sure your secret garden stays exactly that - a secret. You grow. We distribute. We split profits. No risk. All reward.”

You hesitated. The greenhouse was your sanctuary. But you weren’t stupid - you knew how fast rumors spread, how dangerous it could get if the wrong person stumbled in.

“And if someone finds out?”

Mattheo’s expression darkened. “They won’t. Not with us watching your back.”

Silence fell again. A soft breeze rattled a loose pane overhead.

You looked down at your plants, then back at him. “Why should I trust you?”

Mattheo’s expression sobered just enough to make you pause. “Because I’m not the only one who’d come looking. You got lucky it was me tonight.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken.

Then you sighed, brushing a leaf between your fingers. “You’ll keep the location a secret?”

“Cross my heart,” he said, mocking, tapping his chest.

You smiled faintly, then extended your hand, still smudged with soil. “Fine. But you bring me tea every time you come. And no messing with the plants. They like music and gentle company.”

Mattheo stared at your outstretched hand, amused - and just a little intrigued.

“Tea and gentle company,” he repeated. “What a terrifying pothead you’ll make.”

He shook your hand, fingers curling warm around yours.

And with that, a partnership formed - strange, unlikely, perfectly balanced between reckless ambition and grounded charm. A trio of underground Slytherin suppliers and the softest Hufflepuff grower Hogwarts had ever known.

It wouldn’t be the last night Mattheo stepped into that greenhouse - not even close. But for now, the deal was struck. And the smoke was only just beginning to rise.

[g1rld1ary]

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

[multific]

His and His Alone: A Smile Only for You

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: The Empress was known for her cold demeanour towards everyone but her husband, reserving smiles and warmth solely for the man she loves.

The grand hall was loud with conversations as officials gathered for a special occasion, another successful war. 

You sat by Caracalla’s side, your expression composed and distant, a stark contrast to the warmth others might expect from someone of your position. 

Your gaze rarely wandered, but when it met his, a smile appeared on your lips, an expression that existed only for him.

Caracalla leaned toward you slightly, his hand brushing yours. 

“You’ve been rather quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice pitched low so only you could hear.

“There hasn’t been much worth saying,” you replied, glancing at him. 

Yet, as you did, your demeanour eased, and your lips curved in a smile.

He chuckled under his breath, his amusement hidden from others but not you. 

“And yet, somehow, you say plenty.”

Before you could respond, a Senator approached, his posture respectful as he addressed Caracalla. 

“My Emperor, might I steal a moment of your time?”

Instantly, your smile disappeared, replaced by the cold composure you usually displayed.

The Senator hesitated under your icy stare, his confidence disappearing before Caracalla motioned for him to speak.

“Go on,” Caracalla instructed, his tone calm yet authoritative.

The Senator launched into his petition, but you paid little attention, your focus returning to Caracalla.

Your eyes soon wandered as Geta lifted his cup and held one out for you to take. You offered no smile to him but again, your composure changed to a much calmer one as you took the cup from Geta and offered him a nod before you lifted the cup to your lips and drank the wine from it.

Once the evening ended and the last of the officials left, you and Caracalla retreated to your chambers. 

The fire was lit in your room, the crackling flames the only sound in there as you changed your clothes.

You sat at the edge of the bed, unpinning your hair, while Caracalla watched you. 

“You’re always so... detached with everyone else,” he mused, his voice carrying a trace of curiosity.

Pausing, you looked at him. 

“Should I not be?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t notice. Tonight, for example. Smiling at me one second, then turning as cold as winter the moment a Senator approached.”

You turned fully to face him, your features softening as you met his gaze. “I don’t care for them,” you said plainly. “Why waste warmth on people who mean nothing to me?”

“And I? Why am I the exception?” His brow arched, his interest piqued. 

A small smile curved your lips once more, the kind reserved just for him. 

“Because I love you,” you said simply. “You’re the only one who matters. My smiles, my kindness, they belong to you, and only you, Caracalla.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a simple movement, he climbed on the bed and he reached for you, pulling you close.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

He kissed you then, a slow and tender kiss on your lips. 

It was the kind of kiss that left no need for words because in his kiss it was clear how much he loved you and you loved him.

He soon laid down, pulling you with him.

As you rested against his chest, his arms encircling you. 

You heard his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Much like your smiles for him, his heart was beating only for you.

“I’ll always treasure your smile,” he whispered into your hair.

“And I’ll always save it for you,” you replied, your eyes closing as you knew you were safe with him.

And only him.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ladysharmaa]

Different worlds

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are from different worlds, but can they ignore the growing connection between them?

requested: yes

The Bridgerton mansion was cloaked in stillness, the kind of silence that settles only in the deep hours of the night. Yet, Y/n couldn't sleep. Restless and uneasy, she found herself padding down the servant's staircase to the kitchen. A warm cup of tea might help her finally quiet her overactive mind.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lantern. She moved quietly, mindful of the creaky floorboards as she prepared the kettle. Her thoughts wandered, as they often did these days, to Anthony Bridgerton.

The viscount had been kind to her after his mother brought her to join the other workers of the family. Before, she was living in the streets, sleeping on the cold floor and always alert due to the drunk men who sometimes crossed her path. She knew it was dangerous and was grateful that Violet Bridgerton appeared in her life before something bad and traumatic happened. She lived all her life in fear, but now, she felt for the first time in the Bridgerton house.

Therefore, she never participated in the gossip of the other workers out of respect for the opportunity they gave her. Most of the time, it was about the failed court that happened between him and Edwina Sharma.

Anthony was far kinder to her than someone with his power needed to be toward a servant. But his kindness had begun to feel... complicated. His lingering glances, the way his voice softened when he spoke her name, the way her heart raced whenever he entered the room—none of it was proper. Y/n tried her best to ignore it, to keep her distance, but every day the bond between them seemed to grow stronger.

With a sigh, she took an apple from the basket on the counter and began slicing it, hoping the rhythmic task might distract her.

"Couldn’t sleep either?"

Y/n jumped, startled by the voice of the man occupying her mind. Whirling around in surprise, she found Anthony standing in the doorway, his shirt untucked, and his hair slightly disheveled. He looked like he had wandered down on impulse, as restless as you were.

"My lord," Y/n greeted, quickly dipping into a curtsy. "I—I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake."

"I could say the same of you," he replied, stepping into the kitchen. His tone was casual, but there was something in his gaze that pinned her in place. "What’s troubling you?"

"Nothing, my lord," she quicly lied, turning back to her task, continuing to slice the apple, despite not being hungry anymore. However, she couldn’t let him see how his presence alone made her hands tremble. "I simply couldn't sleep."

There was a pause, the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. "You don’t have to call me 'my lord' when it’s just the two of us, you know."

"I do," Y/n said firmly, keeping her eyes solely on the knife. "Because it’s the truth. You are my lord, and I am your servant. It wouldn’t be right to pretend otherwise."

"Who says it wouldn’t be right?" he asked, his voice quieter now, closer. The feeling of his breath on the back of her neck made her straighten her spine.

Y/n remained silent. Instead, she looked ahead, trying to calm herself. However, she forgot about the knife in her hands until it slipped through her fingers. A sharp sting shot through her hand, and she hissed in pain, dropping the blade with a gasp.

"Let me see," Anthony said immediately, his hand reaching for yours.

"It’s nothing, my lord," the servant protested, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

"Stop arguing and let me help," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

He held her hand gently, turning it over to inspect the cut. He was solely focused on the wound, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. His reaction, even though it was a small cut, warmed Y/n's heart.

It wasn’t deep, but a small bead of blood welled up, and he reached for a cloth to press against it. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he feared hurting her further.

"You should be more careful," he murmured. "I can’t bear to see you hurt."

The words made your heart skip, but it was the way he was looking at her, full of adoration, that made Y/n speechless.

"My lord," she began, but her voice faltered when his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles.

"You call me 'my lord,' but you look at me as if you feel something more," he said softly. "Am I wrong?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "It doesn’t matter how I feel," Y/n whispered. "It can’t matter."

"But it does," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted her hand, still wrapped in the cloth, and pressed it to his chest, just over his heart. "You matter."

Y/n knew she should pull away, that she should remind him of the impossibility of what he was saying. But in that moment, with his hand cradling yours and his eyes locked on her, all her resolve crumbled.

"Anthony," The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

He closed the distance between them, his free hand rising to cup her cheek hesitantly, giving her time to pull away. Slowly, and analyzing her expression to make sure this was exactly what she wanted, Anthony began to bring their faces closer. With Y/n's nod, he finally connected their lips. It was gentle at first, but once he tasted her, he quickly deepened the passionate kiss.

For a moment, the world fell away. There was no viscount and servant, no rules or expectations. Just the two of them, tangled in something that felt achingly real.

When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"Tell me this isn’t impossible," he said quietly. "Tell me there’s a chance for us."

Y/n didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to deny him—or herself.

"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe there is. But we have to keep it a secret. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"We can keep it for now, whatever you want. But believe me, I'm going to marry you and everyone will know you're mine." Anthony vowed. But in that moment, he let himself simply enjoy her touch.

[psychemochanight]

Dick being neurodivergent, because why not? (Am I projecting myself onto my hyperfixation character of the moment? Absolutely).

Dick finds the weirdest possible positions to be absolutely comfortable. We already talked about how he likes to hang upside down, but besides that, he's always sitting in a strange way.

Bruce doesn't have any opinion on any of this, but sometimes wonders if Dick is trying to give himself some kind of cramp. The others just wonder if the boy has actual bones.

Bruce thought Dick couldn't be a picky eater, but he's totally wrong. Alfred taught Dick to cook because he knows that if he depended solely on food prepared by other people, the boy would starve. (Worse is when they discover that if they don't remind him, this guy won't eat at all. He just totally forgets that humans need food).

He also taught him other things for sensory issues that he doesn't want to acknowledge. (Yes, there are ways to keep his sheets soft enough, to prevent his shirts from getting lint, even cleaning the slab so it doesn't have weird textures).

Bruce always purposely gave him more work than he needed to do, otherwise he would never get the boy to concentrate. Nothing too difficult, he didn't want to overburden him yet, but seriously, even if he liked math, he would never sit down for more than 10 minutes to do his homework. Organizing his tasks didn't always work, but a deadline? It was his best strategy. Even out of ten minutes, eight were just him thinking about something else and only two to complete the job, he would complete it anyway.

(He never gives him the same task twice in a row. God knows that will never be complete. Have you seen how many jobs this man has? He can't stay in one place for more than a few months).

His thoughts also jump from one situation to another as much as he jumps on rooftops when he is on patrol. Bruce never understands his line of thinking, but it is extremely helpful in solving cases.

Despite appearing extroverted, Dick was still more of an ambivert, sometimes even seeming more introverted, he's just not that shy. His social battery runs out pretty quickly, even if he pretends it doesn't. He still needs time to himself in order to move on, and as a child his best way of pointing this out to Bruce was by hiding under tables in a dark place, or instead, climb to the highest places, farthest from people. Bruce learned that although Dick was used to the noise of people, he was used to seeing it from above, not in the middle of the crowd.

It's not that he's non-verbal, but there are still days where just talking is a no-no. As a child he had better control, but as an adult he just doesn't want to talk, and he's not going to talk.

Weighted blankets? Yes please. Noise cancelling headphones? He would love to, but he is too paranoid to completely isolate himself from his surroundings. (If his friends notice that his leg is bouncing more than usual, they assure him that they will keep watch and ask him to wear his headphones for a while, if they need to talk to him they use sign language).

He also has blackout curtains. And we all know his comfort object is a stuffed elephant, come on. (I love the fandom for this idea. Give the guy his stuffed elephant, give him Zitka.)

Yes, Dick, people have hobbies, but normal people don't change hobbies after mastering them once, much less change them every three days. No, gymnastics is no longer your hobby at this point, it's literally your life.

A special interest falls short when you spent a week without sleep to continue researching your new hyperfixation.

[corkinavoid]

For @pinklotushere, to 'Die With a Smile' by Lady GaGa and Bruno Mars,

DPxDC Before Tomorrow

"I didn't know where else to go."

Danny looks up at the vigilante who is standing on the edge of the roof just a few feet away from him. He watches him fidget and roll his shoulders uncomfortably, then reach up and peel his domino mask off. He won't meet Danny's eyes, he notices absentmindedly.

"Your family, maybe?" He offers, and Tim's shoulders slump in relief.

They hadn't spoken to each other since that very heated discussion over a week ago. Okay, some might have even called it a fight, what with all the yelling, but hey, no one threw punches, so it was still pretty civil in Danny's book.

"They are still running around trying to stop it," Tim shrugs, the line of tension in his shoulders still barely there. Ah, the sole reason that discussion got so heated in the first place. The burden of heroism. Fighting till the very end, even if there's nothing you can do.

Danny turns away, his gaze firmly back on the pink, barely there line at the slowly brightening horizon - the only sign that the sunrise is almost here.

"And you're not?" He asks, not looking at Tim and trying to make the question sound easy and lighthearted. Like it's just another one of their long night talks, one that you can never remember in the morning because you didn't really talk about something in particular, you just talked.

There's a sound of footsteps coming closer, then a ruffle of Tim's cape behind his back, and a faint warmth of his shoulder brushing against Danny's. He sits down just beside, dangling his feet over the edge of the roof. Over the emptiness that is sixty stores between them and the ground.

"No," Tim shrugs, his eyes also on the brink of dawn, slowly creeping through the jagged skyline of Gotham. "I thought, hey, you know, if the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you," he says with a short laugh. Danny can't figure out if it's hysterical or just relieved. Maybe it's both.

"Like the song?" He asks, a smile tugging on his lips, "If the party was over, and our time on Earth was through?" He recites, turning to look at Tim.

He looks pretty - well, his boyfriend always looks pretty, that's not new - but this time, Danny looks closer, almost studying his face with a rapt attention of a scientist. Trying to engrave them in his memory: the line of his nose and the faint light of the not-yet-here sun, the chapped lips and the calm, almost serene blue in his eyes.

"Yeah, like the song," Tim chuckles and turns to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he appeared on the roof. "I'd wanna hold you just for a while," he murmurs, something soft in his voice, and Tim is not a great singer, but Danny loves him anyway. He loves everything about Tim. Including his stubborn decision to keep trying to do something, keep fighting when there's no way out, keep clawing his way through the ruthless circumstances that leave him no choice.

He doesn't finish the verse, and Danny gives him a crooked smile, doing it for him, "And die with a smile."

Tim's face doesn't change. He is still smiling, looking at Danny with a fondness he only likes to show behind the closed doors, and, with a short pang at his core, Danny realizes: He's dealt with it.

He's dealt with the unbending storm inside of him that pushed him to fight despite the consequences, he's came to terms with the promise of impending doom.

And he came here to sit beside Danny, dangling their feet over the edge of a skyscraper, and watch the last sunrise.

Danny feels so much love for his boyfriend that it almost hurts, his core thrumming in his chest, threatening to spill out.

The first rays of sunshine color Tim's cheek with gold, and Danny leans forward.

Tim's eyes flutter closed, but Danny doesn't kiss him, like he probably expected - and, in all fairness, like he probably should have. Instead, he only brushes his lips over the boy's cheek and leans closer to his ear.

There are thousands of things he can say, starting with the simple 'I love you' and all the way to 'I won't let you die, smile or not'.

But the one thing he says, a cheeky grin on his face, is,

"I lied. There is a way."

He did not, there isn't, but Tim takes a sharp breath in and grips his shoulder so tight it hurts, and Danny knows he will find it even if the better timeline will never come.

~•~•~•~

That song is a waltz, and waltzes always make me feel like writing heart-wrenching love stories, I'm sorry. No, I'm not, I lied.

The pure fucking devotion, people. Tim, who is okay with giving up just to spend the last minutes with Danny and Danny, who is okay with ruining the world just so he can make Tim happy. I'm in love with them.

[Also, my initial idea was to write a DarkHumor (Dick/Dan) spicy piece for this, but then Dead Tired took over my brain and ate it whole, so here we are]

[cumironi]

YOU ARE GOOD TO ME : RYOMEN SUKUNA

you came to your boyfriend’s apartment without him knowing you just got mistreated by your father, so he asked— no, he told you— you to live with him instead.

warning. non-sorcerer! sukuna, abusive parent, bruise, domestic violence (not by sukuna), slight angst, fluff, comfort.

you feel the burn all over your skin, the heat trapped under your jacket making every step feel heavier. each movement sends sharp stings through your body, but you keep going, your breaths shallow as you focus on reaching the familiar door ahead. the hallway feels longer than usual, each step echoing, your pace slowing as the pain worsens, but you press on, determined.

when you finally reach the door, you take a deep breath, gathering enough strength to gently knock, the sound soft against the quiet. moments later, the door creaks open, and you're met with the sight of ryomen sukuna, your boyfriend. his face, as usual, holds that natural, intimidating look, sharp and deadly with his tattoos lining his skin. the sight of him alone sends a wave of comfort through you, momentarily distracting you from the pain.

but even though his appearance would terrify anyone else, you know better. you see the subtle shift in his expression, the way his red eyes soften just the slightest bit, and the tension in his muscles loosens as soon as he sees you standing there.

“baby,” you greet him softly, managing a smile despite the burn gnawing at you. stepping forward, you move into his arms, the warmth of his body immediately easing some of the discomfort. his presence alone feels like a balm to your pain as you bury yourself into him, inhaling his familiar scent.

he doesn’t say anything at first, but his arms instinctively wrap around you, his hands surprisingly gentle despite his intimidating strength.

a wave of relief washed over sukuna as you fell into his arms, his usual stoic demeanor quickly faltering in your presence. his grip on you was tight, possessive, yet careful not to hurt you, fingers tracing slow, gentle circles on your back. his red eyes scanned your face, taking in the exhaustion that seemed to cling to you like a shadow.

“you look exhausted,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. though his words were blunt, there was a softness there, a hidden concern that only you ever got to see. “what happened?” his hands never stopped their slow, soothing movement against your back, his touch a perfect blend of tenderness and protection, a side of him he reserved solely for you.

you looked up at him, a small chuckle escaping your lips despite the pain still pulsing beneath your skin. “what do you mean?” you teased, your voice light and playful as you leaned back a little to meet his gaze. “nothing happened. i just missed my boyfriend.”

sukuna’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, you gently pulled away from his hold, offering him a sly smile. you walked deeper into his apartment, the scent of him and the space immediately calming you further. making your way over to the couch, you sank into its cushions, letting out a small sigh as the tension in your body slowly began to unravel.

your eyes flicked toward the tv, noticing the movie playing in front of you, but your mind was only half-focused on it. instead, your attention kept shifting back to sukuna, who was still standing where you left him, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. though you could sense the concern lingering behind his sharp gaze, you knew better than to dwell on it. you just wanted to be close to him, and that was enough to ease the weight pressing down on you.

sukuna’s eyes followed your every move, sharp and observant. he was well-acquainted with your playful banter, the sly smiles and light teases you often threw his way. but beneath your usual demeanor, he sensed something was off about you. your steps were slower, your breaths came short and labored, and your skin was paler than usual. it took all of his self-control to keep his concerns in check, to not immediately pry further.

he slowly made his way toward the couch, dropping down beside you with a quiet huff, his gaze never leaving your face. the silence between you hung heavy as you shifted slightly on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the wince that followed didn’t go unnoticed by sukuna. his crimson eyes remained fixed on you, studying your every movement, the slightest flicker of discomfort sharpening his gaze. the deep, protective instinct within him stirred, a primal urge to pull you close, to shield you from whatever was causing your pain. his jaw clenched for a moment, fingers twitching as if to reach for you, but he stopped himself.

he knew you too well. he knew you weren’t someone who liked being coddled, that you thrived on your own strength, and he respected that deeply. but still, the desire to take care of you gnawed at him, a constant pull he couldn’t ignore. so instead of acting on it, sukuna leaned back into the couch, his arms draped casually along the backrest, though his eyes never left you.

you glanced up and caught his sharp stare, his silent concern almost palpable. a small chuckle escaped your lips, breaking the tension. “stop,” you teased softly, shaking your head with a smile, knowing exactly what he was thinking without him needing to say a word.

without waiting for his response, you shifted closer, your body pressing against his as you snuggled into him. the warmth of his chest was immediate, comforting in a way only sukuna could be. resting your head on him, you let out a content sigh, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. his arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you in tighter, but it was gentle, protective in the way only he could manage.

you smiled to yourself, feeling the weight of the world slowly lift off your shoulders, soothed by the closeness you shared with him. “this is all i need,” you murmured softly, closing your eyes as you let yourself relax fully in his embrace.

sukuna tensed momentarily as you leaned into him, the warmth of your body against his felt like a drug. the protective instinct that always simmered beneath his hardened exterior flared up again, stronger than ever. but your words, so soft spoken yet full of conviction, made him swallow his urges.

he didn’t verbally respond, but his arm around you pulled you closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back. he let out a low hum, deep and soothing in his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that seemed to resonate through you. as you settled further into his embrace, he fought the urge to shield you from the world, to keep you close and never let you go. but he knew he had to give you space, to let you be the strong person he knew you were. so instead, he adjusted his position, pulling you snugly onto his lap, his other hand coming up to lightly rest on your waist.

he leaned his chin against the top of your head, his eyes scanning the room, seemingly nonchalant, but deep down, he was hyperaware of every sound, every movement coming from you.

you stay in that position for what feels like hours, both of you letting the silence fill the space between the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. the soft flicker of the tv bathes the room in a dim light, but neither of you pays it any mind. instead, you remain curled up against him, your head resting heavily on his broad shoulder, nestled deep under the curve of his arm. his tattooed arms encircle you, strong and sure, their warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

there’s something about being in his presence that makes you feel invincible, like nothing in the world could touch you as long as he’s near. his aura, though intimidating to anyone else, is a shield for you, wrapping you in a sense of protection that leaves no room for fear. no matter how chaotic or exhausting your life may be, here, within the sanctuary of his arms, you are safe. the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is a melody, soothing your frayed nerves, calming the pain that had followed you for so long.

every beat seems to echo in rhythm with your own, each one a silent promise—he will always be there, he will always protect you. you sink further into him, the warmth of his skin against yours making it impossible to let go, like you're tethered to him in a way words can't explain. you tighten your grip around his solid frame, your arms curling around his muscular body as if holding him closer could make this moment last forever.

his heartbeat is soft beneath your ear, like the most beautiful symphony, easing the storm inside you, soothing the ache in your bones. this man, who the world sees as cruel and monstrous, is your comfort in all the chaos. the paradox of it all makes you smile faintly, but your smile is more of a feeling—relief, peace, maybe even love—radiating from the inside out as you let out a slow breath, your body finally relaxing fully against him. his hand moves gently up and down your back, almost unconsciously, as if reassuring himself you’re still there with him.

without lifting your head, you speak softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, slightly muffled against the firmness of his chest. “can i stay the night?” you ask, your words carrying a vulnerability you only show him. “i don’t really want to go home... i miss you.”

your voice is so quiet, like a secret meant only for him, a soft plea slipping through the stillness of the room. you don’t need to look at him to know he heard you. you feel it in the way his arm tightens slightly around you, holding you closer as if to say you never have to ask. there’s no hesitation in the way he responds, though he says nothing aloud. the comfort of his embrace is his answer—yes, you can stay, and no, you don’t have to face anything alone.

and as you press your cheek against him, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, you feel a peace that only he can give.

sukuna’s heart skipped a beat at your softly spoken words, a sharp tug of emotion pulling at his chest. there was a vulnerability in your voice, a quiet plea that he heard so clearly through the silence of the room. you didn't have to say much else. he had heard the exhaustion, the longing laced within each syllable.

he said nothing, his fingers continuing their steady path across the expanse of your back. he didn’t need to. the way he pulled you closer, the way his arms tightened around you, spoke more than enough. his answer, though unspoken, was clear as day.

his head dipped, resting gently against yours, the tender brush of his cheek against your hair sending a soft shiver down your spine. each slow, steady breath he took grazed your skin, a quiet reminder of how close he was, how perfectly in sync the two of you felt in that moment. his body, solid and warm, was like a wall of muscle and heat, grounding you with its unyielding strength. more comforting than any cushion, he was your refuge, your unbreakable fortress.

when he finally spoke, his voice rumbled through his chest, deep and resonant, sinking into the very core of you. “stay,” he said, the word carrying a weight far beyond its simplicity. it wasn’t just a request; it was an invitation wrapped in protection, a command softened by the love and care threaded within. there was no question, no other possibility in his mind. in his world, you staying wasn’t just allowed—it was inevitable, the only reality.

a soft hum escaped your lips, almost unbidden, as you melted deeper into his embrace, pressing closer to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. each beat was like a quiet lullaby, soothing the tension from your body, as if his very presence could make the world outside disappear. you nestled closer still, seeking his warmth, his solidity, knowing that in his arms, everything else could fade away.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words delicate, barely audible, almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy surrounding you. but in that moment, they felt heavier, deeper than ever before. it wasn’t just a declaration of love—it was an offering of trust, a confession of the comfort and safety you found in him. the three simple words wrapped around the both of you, holding more meaning than ever.

you felt him respond not with words but in the subtle tightening of his arms around you, the faint shift in his muscles as if your confession had reached a part of him that needed no verbal reply. in that quiet exchange, there was no need for further words. his presence, the way he held you closer, the quiet mingling of your breaths, was answer enough. you were home, wrapped in the quiet strength of his love.

sukuna’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath momentarily hitching at the sound of your confession. those three words, spoken so softly, echoed through him like a powerful force, a reminder of the love that filled his world. you'd said it before, but this time, the meaning was different, deeper. it sank into the very core of his being, wrapping around him more firmly than ever before.

he pulled you closer if it was even possible, his hands gently running up your back, tracing soft patterns on your skin. “i love you too,” he finally murmured, the words coming out in a deep, gentle rumble. his voice was softer, quieter than usual, holding an edge of vulnerability that matched the fragility of the moment. he rarely uttered such sentiments, but with you, the words came easily, naturally. his heart was a fortress for most, but when it came to you, the walls crumbled, leaving behind only the raw truth of his feelings for you.

he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your scent as if committing it to memory, the smell of you a soothing balm in his senses. your presence in his arms was a comfort unlike any other, a feeling he treasured more than anything.

sukuna’s hands continued their steady path across your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles, as if trying to ease every bit of tension in your body. even he could feel your exhaustion, the way your body seemed to sag against him, seeking rest and solace.

“you’re tired,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. it wasn’t a question, more of a statement, a gentle observation of the weariness he could feel radiating off you. he pulled you a fraction closer, one hand moving up to run through your hair in a slow, gentle motion.

you let out a heavy sigh, your breath mingling with the warmth of his chest. “just a little bit,” you whispered, though the fatigue in your voice betrayed you. the gentle motion of his hand through your hair sent a wave of comfort through your body, soothing the ache that had settled deep within. every touch from sukuna felt like an unspoken promise, as if he could take away all the weariness just by being there. you relaxed further into him, your body giving in to the comfort he offered, allowing the tension to melt away under his touch.

sukuna chuckled softly against your hair, the sound as deep and comforting as a gentle caress. “just a little bit,” he echoed your words, a hint of teasing in his voice. but there was understanding there too, a knowing that despite your nonchalance, you were more than just a ‘little bit’ tired.

he continued his comforting motions, his fingers idly tracing small, soothing patterns across your back, as if silently coaxing the tiredness from your body. “you’re terrible at lying, you know,” he said, the affection in his tone betraying his lighthearted chastisement.

you chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his chest, mirroring the warmth of his own laugh. slowly, you lifted your head, eyes meeting his intense gaze, the affection in his crimson eyes softening the usual sharpness they held. shifting slightly in his embrace, you reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing against the familiar lines of his tattoo.

“just a little bit,” you repeated, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips, though the exhaustion in your eyes betrayed your playful words. you lingered there for a moment, your touch gentle, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, a quiet reassurance in the simple connection between you.

sukuna met your gaze, a flicker of a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as your fingers found his cheek. the teasing banter between you never failed to amuse him, each exchange a silent dance only the two of you knew.

he raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock skepticism. “keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he said, the nickname rolling effortlessly off his tongue, a rare slip from his usual intimidating demeanor. he leaned into your touch, his gaze never leaving yours. the softness in his eyes betrayed the hardness he showed the world, a side only you got to see.

you chuckled softly, the sound light but carrying a warmth that filled the space between you. then, with a playful frown, you tilted your head and let out a mock sigh, pouting as you teased, “you’re so hard to pleased, you know that?” your tone was dripping with playful sarcasm, your lips forming a small pout as your fingers still rested gently on his cheek.

the pout deepened, your eyes narrowing slightly in exaggerated frustration, but the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth gave you away. you watched his reaction carefully, knowing how much he secretly enjoyed these moments of teasing, even if he pretended otherwise.

sukuna let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. you were a master at playing him, knowing exactly how to get a rise out of him and how to soften his edges. your pout was adorable, though he'd never admit it aloud.

he leaned in, mere inches from your face, his eyes narrowing in response to your faux frustration. “keep going like this and you won’t satisfy me for a long time,” he warned, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, carrying a hint of a threat.

sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily, watching as they formed your small pout. a flicker of desire flashed through his eyes, a silent admission of his own growing impatience. the tension between you was tangible, an invisible current that seemed to crackle with each silent exchange.

he raised one hand, his thumb gently tracing the edge of your bottom lip, the rough pad of his finger barely touching your skin yet sending a shiver down your spine. “keep making that face at me and see where it gets you,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, a promise as much as a warning.

your playful frown deepened at his words, and you looked up at him with wide eyes, your pout accentuating your playful tone as you replied, “so scary.” despite the lightness of your words, a thrill ran through you at his intensity, the way he seemed to revel in the tension that hung between you.

before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, the softness of the moment contrasting with the heat of the teasing banter. it was a fleeting connection, but it sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving a lingering smile on your lips as you pulled back, your heart racing at the daring gesture.

sukuna smiled softly, a warmth spreading through him as he felt your lips against his, even if just for a brief moment. a low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, the sound a quiet acknowledgment of the connection you shared. his thumb grazed your cheek, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter, and before you could fully comprehend the shift, he pulled you closer, sealing the space between you with a deeper kiss.

this time, his lips moved against yours with a gentle fervor, as if savoring the sweetness of the moment. the kiss was tender, a stark contrast to the teasing banter that had just filled the room, and you felt yourself melt into him, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in the softness of his touch. it was a kiss that spoke volumes—of affection, of longing, and of the unbreakable bond that tethered you to one another.

sukuna’s hands shifted slightly, one cupping the back of your head, holding you to him as he deepened the kiss further. each gentle caress of his lips was a promise, an unspoken declaration of love. he could feel your body relaxing against him, the tension of the day melting away as you gave in to the tenderness of the moment.

after what seemed like an eternity but was mere seconds, he slowly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to regulate his breathing. his touch was still gentle, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your cheek.

“don’t pout at me again,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting against your own as he spoke, “unless you want me to do something about it.”

there was a huskiness in his voice that betrayed his own growing desire for more, a hint of the possessive nature that simmered just beneath his stoic demeanor. his body trembled almost imperceptibly, a physical response to your closeness, to the way you affected him.

sukuna’s eyes flickered open, their usual intensity replaced with a softer, gentler look as he took in the sight of you so close to him, so visibly affected by his touch. he could see the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle with a mixture of surprise and affection.

he shifted slightly, his other arm moving around your waist, pulling you even closer as he leaned in, his lips gently tracing the line of your jawline, moving down to the soft skin of your neck. sukuna's breath was warm against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses, each one a declaration of his affection. his lips lingered on the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth gently grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

he pulled back slightly, admiring the mark he had just left. satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, a possessive look that said you were his, in every way that mattered. he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips sending a wave of comfort through you. he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. in that moment, the world outside faded into silence, and nothing else mattered but the intimacy shared between you.

you melted against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a soothing reminder of his presence. words felt unnecessary, too loud and clumsy to capture the depth of what you both felt. instead, you exchanged quiet moments, your actions speaking volumes as you reveled in the softness of his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. each breath you took together felt like a silent promise, a testament to the bond that connected your hearts in an unspoken understanding.

sukuna held you tight against him, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, a soft and soothing rhythm that seemed to seep into your very soul. he could feel the tension leaving your body, your muscles relaxing against him, your breathing growing slower, more steady.

he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to memorize the feel of your skin. “you’re tired,” he whispered, the statement a gentle reminder that you needed rest. there was no need for more words—the intimacy of the moment spoke louder than any words ever could.

you fell asleep on his couch, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing creating a soothing rhythm in the quiet room. sukuna, wanting to continue watching the game, decided to let you rest a little longer. he slipped away to his room to grab a soft blanket, planning to drape it over you without disturbing your peaceful slumber.

as he returned, a warmth spread through him at the sight of you curled up, lost in dreams. however, when he leaned down to drape the blanket over your body, he noticed the way your jacket had shifted. he gently tugged it off, careful not to wake you, but the sight of your bare arms beneath your baby tee made his heart drop.

his gaze fell upon a bruise near your shoulder, dark and angry against your skin. a frown tugged at his lips as he continued to inspect your arm, revealing more bruises scattered across your skin. horror crept into his red eyes, tightening in his chest at the realization of how hurt you were.

setting your jacket aside, he gently lifted your shirt, revealing your stomach that bore similar marks of pain—purple and red bruises that told a silent story of struggle. a surge of protectiveness washed over him, anger simmering beneath the surface as he struggled to comprehend how you had gotten hurt like this. in that moment, all thoughts of the game vanished, replaced by an overwhelming urge to shield you from harm and ensure that you were safe.

with a frown etched on his face, sukuna settled onto the coffee table beside the couch, his gaze fixed on your sleeping form. you looked peaceful, curled up like a little cat, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing in his heart.

he was aware of your abusive father and had heard fragments of your struggles, but seeing the bruises that marred your skin brought a new wave of rage and sadness crashing over him. the vivid impressions left on your body were a stark reminder of the pain you endured, igniting a fierce protectiveness within him. the realization of how deep the abuse ran made his blood boil, a tempest of anger simmering just beneath the surface.

rising from his seat, he gently shifted you onto your side, cradling you with care as he lifted your shirt. he hoped to find nothing but smooth skin, but instead, his heart sank at the sight of a large bruise on your back. understanding flooded in as he recalled the way you had winced at his gentle touches. the thought that someone could hurt you like this twisted in his gut, a knot of frustration and sorrow.

sukuna returned to his spot on the coffee table, his eyes drifting back to your face. you appeared so calm and innocent, a stark contrast to the pain hidden beneath the surface. he blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, his fingers instinctively brushing your hair away from your face. in that moment, he vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to protect you, to be the shield against the darkness that had touched your life. no one would ever lay a hand on you again.

the game faded into oblivion as sukuna carefully lifted your body into his arms, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. he cradled you against him, feeling the weight of your vulnerability as he carried you to his bedroom. each step was deliberate, as if he feared jostling you from your peaceful slumber.

once he reached the bed, he gently laid you down, ensuring you were comfortable before settling beside you. he pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you in warmth and security. the soft fabric cocooned you, shielding you from the world outside as he tucked you in close, his presence a silent promise of safety.

with you nestled against him, sukuna let out a soft sigh, his fingers gently brushing over your hair. the tranquility of the moment enveloped him, and he found solace in just being there with you, a protective guardian in the quiet night. he would watch over you, ensuring that no harm would come your way, determined to create a space where you could feel safe and loved.

sukuna allowed the silence to settle around you, the only sound being the steady rhythm of your breath, in unison with his own. he held you close, his arms encircling you protectively, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

he found himself lost in thought, the image of your bruised body replaying in his mind incessantly. the knowledge of your abuse and the extent of your suffering cut through his heart like a knife, the pain of it nearly suffocating. he shifted slightly, pulling you deeper into his embrace, as if by doing so he could erase the shadows that plagued your life.

the room was hushed, the silence interrupted only by the whispered sound of your breathing. his eyes flicked down to you, studying your face, the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you slept. the sight of you, tucked against him, sparked a possessive feeling within him, a burning need to keep you safe and away from harm.

he felt the weight of his own promise, the vow he had made to himself to shield you from the suffering you had endured. sukuna pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment, as if sealing the commitment with a silent gesture. “you will be alright, i’ll make sure of it,” he whispered to your forehead before giving you another kiss.

sukuna’s words hung in the air, a silent vow spoken against the soft skin of your forehead. he continued to hold you, his arms wrapped protectively around you like a shield, his body radiating warmth and comfort.

his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—anger at those who had hurt you, sadness at the suffering you had endured, and above all, a fierce determination to protect you. his hold on you tightened slightly, as if to drive his point home more effectively. he placed another gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered once more, “i promise.”

it was the next morning when you found yourselves in sukuna’s living room, the soft light filtering through the windows casting a warm glow around you. the moment you woke up and realized your jacket was no longer draped over you, a rush of understanding washed over you—you knew he had seen the bruises.

the air was thick with unspoken words as you sat curled up on the couch, your knees tucked tightly to your chest. sukuna sat across from you on the coffee table, his presence both comforting and imposing. his large hand enveloped yours, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across your skin, grounding you in the moment.

“live with me,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. there was no hint of anger in his tone, no questions pressed upon you like weights. instead, there was a calm acceptance, an understanding that filled the space between you. he didn’t need you to explain, didn’t demand answers. he simply knew—knew that you would share when you were ready.

right now, all he wanted was to ensure you felt safe. his eyes were soft, filled with an earnestness that made your heart flutter. it was an offer laced with protection and care, a sanctuary away from everything that had hurt you. you felt the weight of his words, the promise behind them, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the flicker of hope ignite within you.

he added, “i’ll keep you safe, with me,” he murmured, his crimson irises locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

as you looked into those depths, you saw nothing but love and a fierce protectiveness that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. it was a promise, a vow that resonated deep within you. the weight of his words settled in your heart, easing the tension that had built up inside.

after a moment of stillness, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “okay.” it was a simple word, yet it carried so much—acceptance, trust, and a tentative hope for the future. in that moment, you knew you weren’t alone anymore. with sukuna by your side, you could finally begin to heal.

sukuna's heart felt like it might overflow as you uttered that simple word—"okay." it was a fragile, tentative agreement, but it meant the world to him. the weight of your trust, the acceptance in your voice, settled over him like a protective veil, giving him strength and purpose.

he tightened his grip on your hand, bringing it up to press it against his cheek. closing his eyes for a moment, he savored the feel of your touch, relishing in the knowledge that you had chosen to let him in, to let him take care of you.

sukuna opened his eyes again, his gaze never leaving yours. there was a vulnerability in his expression, a hint of raw emotion beneath the surface of his usual stoicism.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice gruff yet filled with a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show. he lifted your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. it was a silent gesture of gratitude, for trusting him, for allowing him to be your safe haven.

you pulled your hand gently from his and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. the warmth of his body was immediate, grounding you in the present moment. your cheek rested against him as you closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent.

“thank you,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with gratitude and emotion. the words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you felt—your appreciation for his unwavering presence, his strength, and the safe space he had become for you. in his arms, you finally felt like you could breathe.

sukuna’s heart ached at the sound of your whispered words. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap, holding you tight against him. he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, relishing the feeling of your warm body against his.

he held you like that for a moment, in silence, letting the gravity of the moment sink in. then, he pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “i’m going to take care of you now,” he said, his voice a low, firm promise.

your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, your eyes locking onto his. the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, but there was a softness there too—something rare, something that only you ever got to see. a small smile tugged at your lips when his fingers slid through your hair, carefully tucking a loose strand behind your ear. the gesture was tender, intimate, a silent promise in itself.

“why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could sense the concern in it. “i’ll make you breakfast. then we’ll head out and get a few things for you.”

the warmth of his touch and the reassurance in his words made you feel safe, truly safe, as if everything might finally be okay. you nodded, still smiling, your fingers gently tracing the back of his neck before you whispered, “okay.”

sukuna nodded in response, his eyes flickering over your form, his gaze tracing every contour, every bruise on your skin beneath the fabric of your clothes. there was a simmering anger in him, a seething possessiveness that flared up at the sight of your wounds, but he shoved it down, focusing on the present moment instead.

he gently caressed your hair one last time before releasing you from his lap, his hands resting on your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. “go on,” he murmured, the huskiness in his voice betraying a hint of his desire to keep you close.

sukuna watched as you stood from his lap, letting his hands linger on your hips for a few moments longer than necessary. he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from you, every instinct in him screaming to keep you near. but he knew you needed some space to process and freshen up, especially after the night you had. he released you, reluctantly letting his hands fall away from your body, as you turned and padded out of the room. a pang of loneliness hit him as soon as you were out of sight, the absence of your presence making his chest feel strangely hollow.

while you were in the shower, sukuna made his way to the bedroom, his steps purposeful but his mind spinning. he entered his walk-in closet and grabbed some clothes for you—one of his oversized shirts and a pair of sweatpants. his fingers paused on the shelf, eyes lingering on the empty space he had cleared out for you just hours ago. when he woke up in the middle of the night, restless and unable to sleep, he’d wandered around the apartment, preparing a place for you, mentally moving things, physically rearranging others. the thought of you being here permanently had taken root, growing stronger with each passing hour.

as he grabbed the clothes, he couldn’t help but think of how simple yet monumental it felt to make space for you, not just in his home but in his life. it wasn’t something he had ever done for anyone else. but for you, he was ready.

walking into the kitchen, sukuna set to work making breakfast, though his hands moved almost mechanically. his mind was somewhere else entirely. underneath the surface of his calm exterior, a storm raged, wild and violent. every time he thought of the bruises he’d seen on your body, his blood boiled. he wanted nothing more than to storm into your house and beat your father to a pulp, to make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d caused you. but he stopped himself. he knew, as much as he craved that vengeance, it wouldn’t help. it would only add to the chaos in your life, and the last thing he wanted was to cause you more stress.

he inhaled deeply, pushing the anger down for now. for your sake, he had to remain calm, had to be the steady presence you needed. with that thought, he flipped the eggs in the pan and continued making breakfast, his mind fixed on the promise he made to you. he’d take care of you now.

as sukuna finished cooking breakfast, he plated the food and placed it on the table, his thoughts still troubled. he glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, spotting you entering the kitchen, his over-sized shirt hanging loosely on your petite frame, making you look even more fragile.

his eyes fixated on a particularly large bruise on your collarbone, visible above the neckline of the shirt. the sight of it sent another surge of anger through him, but he forcefully tamped it down, schooling his features into a neutral expression.

you walked into the kitchen, sukuna’s oversized shirt hanging loosely on you, your damp hair still clinging to your neck. your smile was soft as your eyes landed on him, and despite everything, you managed to find comfort in his presence. stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his side, nuzzling into him as you breathed in the scent of breakfast.

“smells good, baby,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. you tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your smile warm despite the tiredness in your eyes.

sukuna’s gaze softened when you hugged him, his hand instinctively coming to rest on the small of your back, holding you there for a moment. he forced the storm of anger back, focusing only on the tenderness of the moment. “it’ll taste even better,” he replied, his voice gentle.

sukuna gently ran his hand over your back, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles on your skin. his touch was light, almost hesitant, as he fought against the urge to pull you tightly against him, to feel the tangible proof of your presence.

the sight of you, so small and vulnerable, wrapped up in his clothes, stirred something primal within him. he wanted nothing more than to shield you from the world, to make sure no one would ever hurt you again. he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “let’s eat.”

you both sat at the dining table, the smell of the warm breakfast filling the room. the plates were set, and the atmosphere was lighter, though the weight of everything that had happened still lingered in the background. sukuna leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed loosely as he looked at you, a small smirk on his lips.

“so, what’s the plan for today?” he asked casually, though his tone hinted at something more — his desire to make sure you felt safe and comfortable.

you glanced at him, thoughtfully poking at your food with your fork before smiling softly. “maybe we can start by getting a few of my things? i can’t keep borrowing your clothes forever,” you teased, although a part of you relished the comfort of being wrapped in something that belonged to him.

sukuna chuckled at your response, glad to see you could still crack a joke, even after everything. his gaze softened as he watched you poke at your food, thinking of a way to make the day as stress-free as possible.

he leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers under his chin thoughtfully. “that’s not a bad idea,” he said, a little grin forming on his lips. “but you look so good in my clothes, i might have trouble letting you wear anything else.”

you hummed, a small, amused smile forming on your lips as you placed a piece of egg into your mouth. after chewing, you raised an eyebrow and said, “i always look good, but... i also need my underwear and, you know, everything important.” your voice was light, playful, but there was a truth behind your words.

sukuna chuckled again, the sound low and rich, full of mirth. the tension in the room eased slightly as you engaged in the small banter.

he raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand. his gaze was half-lidded, a smirk playing on his lips. “and if i say no? what are you gonna do then?” he teased, his tone filled with mock seriousness.

you chuckled, meeting his half-lidded gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. “oh, i’ll just walk around the apartment naked,” you teased back, your tone light and mischievous. the words slipped out easily, a deliberate attempt to break the lingering tension between you both.

sukuna’s smirk widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement at your response. he leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms of the seat.

“oh really?” he drawled, drawing out the word as he tilted his head slightly. he let his eyes wander over your form, taking in the sight of you in his oversized clothes. “as much as the thought of that pleases me, i don’t think i’d get any work done, sweetheart.”

you chuckled softly as you leaned closer to sukuna, your movements slow and deliberate, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “that’s exactly why we need to get my things first,” you whispered, your lips barely brushing his skin as you spoke, your voice carrying a teasing tone.

pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkled with amusement as you added, “we can’t have you getting distracted all day, now can we?” your playful smile lingered as your hand briefly rested on his arm before you stood up, signaling your readiness to start the day.

before you could move far, sukuna shifted, his hand reaching out to pull you gently so that you stood between his legs. his presence was grounding, and as you placed your thumb lightly against his forehead, you leaned in to give him a soft kiss there. “you’ve been good to me,” you murmured, your voice full of affection, a quiet appreciation for the way he was looking out for you.

sukuna's heart skipped a beat at your words, the tenderness in your voice making his chest feel tight. he relished in the feeling of your touch against his cheek, the press of your lips against his forehead.

he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer between his legs. your small frame fit perfectly in the circle of his embrace, and he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, letting it soothe his restless mind.

“you deserve nothing less,” he murmured, his voice gruff with unspoken emotions. he leaned his forehead against your stomach, nuzzling gently into the fabric of his shirt that you were wearing

for a moment, you stood still between his legs, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his head resting against your stomach. your eyes softened as you looked down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair and along his back in slow, soothing strokes.

you leaned down slightly, planting a few tender kisses on the top of his head, each one filled with quiet affection. you could feel the tension in his body start to ease under your touch, the weight of the world he often carried seeming just a little lighter in this moment of intimacy.

sukuna let out a soft sigh as you ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in the feeling of your touch. every kiss you placed on his head was like a balm that eased the tension in his muscles, the ache in his heart.

he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his body molding itself around you. he inhaled deeply, your scent filling his lungs, grounding him, centering him. he whispered your name, his voice a low, ragged murmur against your stomach.

he pressed a kiss against your stomach, the contact firm and deliberate, almost as if he was trying to imprint himself onto your skin. his hands moved to your hips, his fingers gripping a little tighter, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every little feature, every small bruise that littered your skin, a silent reminder of the pain you’d endured. and yet, despite it all, you were still here, standing in front of him.

anger flared up in him again at the sight of those bruises, a snarl forming on his lips. he hated how fragile you looked, how vulnerable. the protective instinct in him flared up, making him want to storm into your father's house and beat him senseless. but he knew that wouldn't solve anything. all it would do is add to your stress, something he desperately wanted to avoid. so he simply held you tighter against him, his voice barely above a growl.

“this is the last time he lays a hand on you.”

you nodded silently, your fingers threading gently through his hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingertips. you could feel the tension radiating off him, his muscles coiled tight beneath your touch as if he were holding back a storm. but your voice was calm, steady, as you whispered, “i’m safe now... now that i’m with you.”

your words seemed to soften the edge of his anger, and you leaned into his hold, letting the warmth of his body envelop you. the intensity of his protectiveness made you feel secure, knowing that, with him, you no longer had to fear what lay outside his walls.

sukuna leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he savored the gentle pull of your fingers through his hair. your words, soft and steady, washed over him like a soothing balm, extinguishing the fire of his anger.

he rested his forehead against your stomach, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. he held you tighter, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the damp locks of your hair. “you always will be,” he replied firmly, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes tracing over your features, taking in the way they softened under his touch. he brought one hand up to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

the sight of those goddamned bruises made him want to tear something apart, but he held back, his anger replaced by a fiercely protective instinct. he ran his thumb over a particularly dark bruise, his touch light but filled with an aching tenderness. “promise me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“promise me,” he repeated, his gaze locking with yours. “promise me that no one will ever touch you like this again, that you’ll let me take care of you from now on.” he was demanding, commanding, his grip on your face firm but not painful. he needed to hear the words, to know that you were his now, that you would come to him when things got rough.

“promise me you won’t let him near you again,” he continued, his hand moving from your face to rest against your chest, his palm flat over your heart. “promise me you’ll never go back there.” the thought of you going back to that hellhole filled him with an icy dread, a clenching fear in his gut. he could not, would not, let anything happen to you again. even the thought made his blood run cold.

you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. his intensity was overwhelming, but it was laced with such fierce protectiveness that it made you feel safe. with a sad, soft smile, you reached up to place your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his palm against your heart.

“promise,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him relax ever so slightly. you could see the tension in his jaw ease as he exhaled, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“i won’t go back there,” you added quietly, your thumb brushing against his hand in a silent vow. “i’m here now, with you.” the truth of that statement grounded you both, a small sense of peace settling between the two of you as you held onto each other.

sukuna felt a flood of relief wash over him as your voice, soft and sincere, echoed your promise. his grip on your hand tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his hold almost possessive, as if to ensure you would keep your word.

he let out a shuddering breath, the adrenaline and the raw emotion of the moment finally catching up to him. he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice rough with feeling. “mine to protect, mine to keep safe. no one else’s.”

he ran his free hand down your back, his fingers tracing gentle circles over your spine. the gesture was meant to soothe, to ground him as much as it was to soothe you. he felt the need to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin under his fingers, a tangible proof that you were really there, safe in his embrace. “and i’m yours, sweetheart,” he added, his eyes opening to fix you with an intense gaze. “mine to care for, mine to love. no one else’s.”

he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against the bruise on your collarbone. the kiss was light, almost reverent, but there was a hint of possessiveness in the way he held you tight against him. he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice low and firm. “i’m staying with you today.” he left no room for argument in his tone, his decision final. “and from now on, you’re coming home to me every night.”

your smile was soft, but your eyes, despite the exhaustion weighing them down, sparkled with a happiness that couldn't be hidden. his words, his unwavering support, and protectiveness wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the ache inside your heart. you leaned in closer, your arms sliding around his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

nodding, you whispered, “i like that,” your voice full of quiet relief and contentment. resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of being in his arms wash over you. being with him, knowing he’d protect you, made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

sukuna’s arms wrapped around you almost instinctively, pulling you flush against him. one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting at the small of your back, his fingers splayed across your skin.

he savored the feel of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his embrace, as if you were made to be there. he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding with the motion, his nose buried in the warm, familiar scent of your hair. he stayed like that for a long moment, just holding you, relishing the simple pleasure of having you close, safe and his. he could feel the steady thump of your heartbeat against his chest, the rhythm of it slowly syncing with his own, a reassurance that you were here, alive, and most importantly, that you were his.

the knowledge sent a thrill through him, a mix of pride and affection, that you belonged to him now, that you trusted him to take care of you. it ignited a primal need within him, a compulsion to keep you as close as possible, to ensure that no one could ever hurt you again.

“you’re so goddamned precious it’s almost ridiculous,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. his fingers moved idly against your back, tracing small circles against your skin as he held you.

he couldn’t help the surge of possessiveness that coursed through him as he held you. the idea of someone, anyone, daring to lay a hand on you, to cause you pain and fear, made his blood boil. he swore to himself right then and there that he would do anything, anything at all, to keep you safe.

[reidsmanuscript]

Meet the Minds

Summary: 4 years after that one time in a bar, on how your character Criminal Minds was born, and maybe how something else was also borned. Pairing: mgg x actress!reader Genre: friends to lovers?, fluff, mutual pinning TW: Public Scrutiny/Fame, reader has severally parents issues, plus they are passive aggressive but it's short i swear, brief mention of cheating, mgg takes a minute to appear i know im sorry, long introduction wc: 3.7k! A/N: hopefully someone will understand what I'm aiming for with both of my dear !readers, this is with the solely purpose to treat myself i fear Masterlist!

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Since that one time in a bar it has been 4 years. Your show City Lights has gotten big. And when you say big, it was BIG, and so did you.

You were wrapping up the third season of the show, with a renewed contract for the next season in hand and a few promising movie proposals. In the past four years, you and your friends have become famous. Not A-list famous, but enough that if any of you went out, someone would recognize you, or a few paparazzi might follow your every move.

The four of you had lived in the same apartment in New York ever since filming started on location. HBO wanted your friendship to feel authentic for the cameras, and boy, were you grateful for that… because they had become your true best friends—not just on TV, but in real life.

It was Ashley, Jack and Nathan. Something that always happens when you start a show and it gets views it’s that the whole crew becomes a big family. In the middle of the second season, you finally mustered the courage to ask the showrunner, Jeff Davis, if you could join the writers' table to pitch some ideas for your character. He agreed, and since then, some of the best storylines on the show had come from your contributions.

The thing was, your name brought in big numbers, and it had caught the attention of producers and showrunners alike. Criminal Minds had premiered a year ago, gained some traction, but they wanted to take it to the next level. So Jeff, the same creator of your show, called you and your agent to see if you could join the cast.

There were two problems. First, your schedule was already packed. Moving to L.A. for the shoot wasn’t an option—City Lights had you locked in for the fourth season, and there was a possibility you'd land the lead in a promising film. On top of that, you were still taking college classes from a foreign university at your parents' insistence. So, being a recurring character was out of the question.

Second, when they handed you the script, you hated the character. They wanted you to be the fan favorite, Spencer Reid’s love interest, and while you had no problem with that, the character itself didn’t sit right with you. She was this sweet, innocent woman, one who was a victim from one unsub, and Spencer, an addict, would find redemption through her. He’d get sober and everything would be perfectly happy. You thought it was dull.

For starters, you knew how controversial it would be for her to become his personal recovery center, but you also saw the potential in the character. So, you asked if you could rewrite her into something more dynamic, something with more depth. Given the trust Jeff had in you, he gave you free rein to make the changes.

“How’s it going?” Jack, one of your best friends and a Criminal Minds fan, asked, entering the living room.

“A surprisingly moving amount of absolute nothing,” you said jokingly, staring at the blank space.

“Oh, come on, dude! We’ve watched some of the episodes together! You know the vibe,” he said, sitting down on the couch beside you.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it.” you said throwing your hands to the air in a comically exasperated way.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it,” you said, dramatically throwing your hands in the air, exasperated.

“Guess who’s gone viral again!” Nathan breezed into the room, flashing you a grin. He played your love interest on City Lights, and the fans went wild for your on-screen chemistry. But the truth was, you two were nothing more than really good friends. There was no romance, just a strong, platonic bond.

“Ugh... please tell me it’s for the right reasons.” You shut your eyes and let your head flop back against the couch.

Nathan tossed you his phone, then leaned casually on the backrest of the couch, Jack scooting closer to get a better look.

“What is it? Another red sauce scandal?” you asked, scrunching your nose at the thought.

Let me tell you something: becoming famous at 17 or 18 leaves you with a digital footprint that you'll wish you could erase by the time you’re 23.

He handed you his phone, showing a new release from Austin, your ex-boyfriend. The song title was painfully obvious—"Still Stuck on You." The lyrics left no room for interpretation, and the message hit you like a ton of bricks. Austin had written another song about you, and this time, he made it clear.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is like the third one this year!” Your mouth hung open in disbelief as Jack, who had burst out laughing, took the phone from your hands and started scrolling through the Twitter comments.

He had been your “boyfriend” four years ago, but only for PR purposes. When you found out he’d cheated, you broke up with him. He begged and cried, and it was pathetic. Since then, Austin had turned your brief relationship into his whole persona. He released songs that were painfully obvious about you, dated women who looked eerily like you, and spent interviews throwing shade, spreading lies, all for attention. The problem? You were skyrocketing, gaining fame in ways he could never have predicted, and he—well, he was still stuck on you.

Your phone started ringing somewhere around the apartment, a FaceTime call vibrating through the cushions. You rummaged through the pillows on the couch, cursing under your breath as you came up empty.

“Seriously, how do you always lose it?” Nathan said, appearing behind you with a smirk. He found your phone wedged between the couch cushions and handed it to you just as you answered the call. As he did, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out a dollar bill and placing it in his open hand.

See, you had a special talent for losing your phone around the house, and your friends turned it into a game. Every time you misplaced it and one of them found it, you owed them a dollar.

“Bitch have you seen it?!” Ashley squealed from your phone, her voice laced with urgency. 

“It's like jumpscare! you know it’s coming but it’s always surprisingly disappointing!” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Somebody said, ‘Are you writing a memoir or just trying to hit the ‘most dramatic ex’ award this year?’” You all chuckled at Jack’s reading.

“Gotta go, some stylist is calling me. Love ya, bye!” Ashley hung up quickly, going back to her photoshoot, leaving you to shake your head and wish her good luck.

Jack kept giggling at the comments, lost in the chaos of Austin’s latest stunt. Meanwhile, you stared blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking mockingly back at you.

Nathan gave you a playful shove. “You know what’s really offensive? The tempo on that track. It’s like he’s trying to be edgy but doesn’t understand how syncopation works.”

“Hmm, well, what else could you expect? Maybe you should make your own song about it, something with a real sense of rhythm,” You said absently, still staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in a never-ending challenge.

“And you should start writing that, maybe throw in a little revenge of your own,” he said, nudging his chin toward the computer screen with a grin. You frowned at him, your gaze drifting back to the cursor as you considered his words.

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You were studying—actually studying—sitting in the mini studio with notes scattered in front of you, calculator by your side, silently frustrated as you tried to make sense of the numbers. Ashley was on the other side of the desk in front of you, pacing and memorizing her lines, back and forth, her voice echoing in the room. Your grip tightened on your pencil, eyes flicking over the work in front of you, when your phone buzzed. Another message.

"We’ve heard about your 'plans,' but it’s hard to take them seriously when you can’t commit. It’s cute to 'explore options,' but at some point, you’ll have to stop playing around and think about your future. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?"

Maybe it was the sound of your phone tapping against the wood of the table, or the way your hand instinctively went to your eyes, trying to stop the threatening tears, that tipped Ashley off. She paused, looking up from her lines, eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in your mood, as she made it to your way, reading the message still open on your phone that had already sunk in, the familiar sting. 

Ashley didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into a hug, still standing while you were sat, one arm wrapping around your shoulders tightly as she murmured, "Fuck them. Seriously. You don’t need their crap." She squeezed you harder, as if to prove the point. "You're better than any of that. Don’t let their bullshit get to you." Her voice was fierce, a protective edge in every word.

The relationship with your parents was complicated, to say the least. You'd tried to make them proud, but it was never enough. Now, more than ever, you’d rebel when you chose to become an actress. It felt ridiculous—like you were still studying against your will, trying to prove something you didn’t even want to.

"I mean, what the fuck will it take for them to take me seriously? A fucking Oscar? Have some damn patience—I’m working on it," you spat, voice shaky, leaning into Ashley as tears threatened to spill.

She sighed, pulling you in a little tighter. “Fuck them,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. “They don’t get it, and honestly, they probably never will. But you’ve got this. You’re doing something they can’t even begin to understand. Don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t a call. I swear it’s pathetic how every time I get mad, I just cry.”

Ashley pulled you into a tight hug, her voice soft but firm. “Forget about them for a second, okay? You don’t need to study right now. You’ve been working your ass off. Take a break. You’re allowed to feel pissed off without worrying about your grades for a few minutes.” She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”

With a last shaky breath and wiping away the tears that had escaped, you nodded. Ashley sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Hey, enough with the studying for now. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. Wanna get cute and go out for some coffee?” She gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You deserve a break.”

You chuckled, truly this time, and shook your head. "Maybe later. You finish with your lines, and I’ll… go grab some snacks," she nodded, giving you a smile, picking up the forgotten script.

You were still shaken, even frustrated at how powerless you felt around your parents, and how you reacted to your feelings. You cried, and sometimes words became hard to find. You wished you could scream and destroy everything, just let it all out, like those female rage characters, but for now, you were left in silence.

Which gave you an idea.

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That’s how you ended up creating your character—in a fully cathartic, all-nighter frenzy, shaping her with layers of meaning. Like her nickname, “Woody,” a nod to Nathan’s favorite movie, Toy Story—a little inside joke, a quiet way of taking revenge in your own way.

She was everything you weren’t, and at the same time, everything you were.

And then there was her best friend, Austin—played by Jack, of course, since he was a huge fan of the show—who you took every opportunity to be mean to, just for the fun of it.

You’d never admit it, but the line “Austin is not my boyfriend”? Yeah, that had a little extra bite to it. A double meaning, if you will.

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The producers loved it. The depth of your character, how dark her storyline was. Because if you really want to keep the audience engaged? Give them two characters who are absolutely perfect for each other—but can’t be together.

And when the idea of adding Jack came up, they agreed immediately. What’s better than one City Lights star joining the show? Two City Lights stars.

But they had asked you to keep the secret from everyone, including the current cast. Who you'll be meeting and revealing your characters to in the table reading 

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Jack and you were currently at ABC’s costume department, standing in front of a mirror while the costume designer and a wardrobe assistant made final adjustments to your outfits.

“Man, I’m boiling in here,” you groaned, peeling off the red shirt as the wardrobe assistant jotted down notes about the fit. 

Jack, meanwhile, admired himself in the mirror, dramatically flipping back the leather jacket he was trying on. “Do I look tough? Like, would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secret?” He smirked, striking a pose straight out of an action movie.

The costume designer, pinning a hem on your sleeve, barely glanced up. “You look like an extra in a bad '90s biker film.”

“You look like you're about to challenge a middle schooler to a dance battle,” you added, crossing your arms.

Jack gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

“More like zero intimidation factor” You said from the changing room, a few moments later, you stepped out  wearing a white shirt and black vest, and flashed Jack a playful grin. “So, do I finally look like the child my parents can brag about?” you joked, adjusting the vest slightly.

The wardrobe assistant shot you a thumbs up, clearly impressed with the fit.

“Are you maxing out someone's card again?” A voice asked behind you. 

You turned around to see Matthew grinning. You chuckled, scrambling for a response. “Well… I’m not legally allowed to talk about it,” you said, cringing internally.

Man, you were awkward without alcohol in your veins.

He chuckled, stepping closer to pull you into a brief hug in greeting. You’d already worked together on The Beauty Inside, so the familiarity was there—comfortable, easy, playful even.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked.

“Ummm well..” You turned to Jack with panic in your eyes. Jack, ever the performer, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re actually here to stage a heist. High-stakes, top secret.” He waggled his eyebrows.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “We’re doing costume fittings.”

Matthew raised a brow, clearly amused. “Costume fittings, huh?” His gaze flickered to the wardrobe racks surrounding you. “For something unannounced?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. “I plead the fifth.”

Jack threw an arm around your shoulders. “She’s under strict secrecy orders, but between us?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It 's big.”

“Jaaack,” you warned, dragging out the 'a' in a clear sign for him to be careful.

“Well, if you’re in it, I bet it is,” he said, smirking at you.

You chuckled, clearing your throat. “Soo, what are you doing here?”

“Well, this is kinda where I work,” he said with a shrug teasing. Right. This was where the cast of Criminal Minds did their fittings, although the producers had made sure you were not scheduled together to avoid leaks.

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Here? In the costume department?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Yep, I mean, what else would I be doing here? Getting my wardrobe ready for my big role?" he added, his tone mock-serious. “What are you supposed to be, by the way? A real estate agent? I bet you’re just one property listing away from a deal of the century,” he said, eyeing your clothes.

You chuckled again. “No, um… I’m actually a very boring banker,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. Like get a hold of yourself girlie, he’s just a tall, handsome man, with nice hair and curls and pretty eyes, and gentle. Somebody, hand me a glass of water, or wine, whichever is easier.

The costume designer called your name, already holding more clothes in her hands. "We need to finish these adjustments, sweetheart."

You nodded, trying to shake off the distraction. "Right, I’ll be right there."

Matthew smirked, taking it as his cue to leave. "I guess I'll let you continue. Good luck being a banker," he teased, giving you one last look.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Matthew," you said, turning toward the designer as he walked off.

Jack, who had been quietly observing from the corner, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘big role’ like a banker in slacks."

You shot him a playful glare. "Oh shut up, Johnny Bravo," you joked, laughing as he dramatically posed in response.

　　　　 　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The producers stood at the front of the room, their eyes scanning the assembled cast. There was a buzz in the air—everyone was settling in, ready for the read-through to begin. After a quick round of hellos and some introductions, one of the producers, a tall woman with a clipboard, stood up to speak.

“Alright, everyone, before we dive in, we have a very exciting addition to the cast today. You’re about to meet someone who is going to bring a lot of depth and intensity to the world of Criminal Minds.” The showrunner smiled at you, saying your names and introducing the new character you’d be bringing to life.

Jack, sitting beside you, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the way he gripped his script gave him away. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he held the pages, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning toward him, you whispered, “That’s not bubble wrap.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and he whisper-shouted, “That’s Mandy Patinkin sitting right there. Do you have any idea how my mom would react if she were here?”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the table. Across from you, Matthew sat diagonally, flipping through the script with a furrowed brow. When he glanced up, he shot you a mock-offended look and mouthed, “Liar.”

You choked back a laugh, quickly mouthing “Sorry” with a small shrug just as the producers began reading.

　　　　 　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The reading session had concluded, and you were chatting with Paget about how much you had loved her in Friends. Meanwhile, Jack was across the room, subtly—well, not so subtly—trying to get an autograph from Mandy.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Matthew making his way toward you, but pretended not to notice, keeping your attention on Paget. You had a feeling he was about to make some kind of remark, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of expecting it.

“You should be careful with her, she lied to me and told me she was going to be some boring banker,” he finally said, warning Paget with a smirk, 

You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as I’m good at my job”

Paget raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Oh, so she tricked you? That’s embarrassing, Gubler.”

Matthew placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I was misled! Deceived! Here I was, thinking I had met a perfectly normal, unassuming banker, only to find out she’s infiltrating our world.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder before the showrunner called her, leaving you alone with him.

“Nice shoes, by the way,” he said, looking down at your mismatched Converse—one deep red and the other black, matching your red top.

You chuckled. “Thanks. People keep making fun of me on the internet, saying I must've rushed out of the house.”

He laughed and pulled up his pants, revealing his mismatched socks—one purple with yellow dots and the other blue with bananas. “Well, that’s because they’re boring.”

“Oh God, they’re so cool,” you genuinely liked how bizarre they were.

“Hey, I saw your name on the last page of the credits... Did you write those episodes?” he asked, kind of amazed.

“Well, I um... added some minor stuff, really,” you said, lying a little. “Just to make her more sarcastic and fun… like, I can’t wait to get covered in blood for the shots.”

He laughed just as Jack reappeared, clutching his freshly signed Mandy Patinkin autograph like it was the Holy Grail. “I blacked out for half of that conversation, but I think I played it cool.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so.” You were about to say something more when a producer called for both of you.

With an apologetic smile, you said goodbye to Matthew, but before you turned around, he called out, “Can I get your number this time, or do I have to wish we get cast together again?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you handed him your number. “I guess I’ll wait for your call.”

“You better pick up. There are some scenes I think will need some rehearsal.” His words made your stomach flip, and a flush crept up your face.

Pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much, you retorted, “You better be quick. My schedule is full.” That made him chuckle.

The producer called for you again, and you made your way toward him and Jack, still feeling the warmth of the moment lingering. You once promised yourself to not-date-coworkers. Maybe if those coworkers weren’t so funny and handsome you wouldn’t reconsider your own words.

　　　　 　　   .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

If you want to find out more about the CM character click here!

Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[tracklessreason]

Hi. It's me again.

WHERE THE FRICK IS BUMBLEBEE?! Sorry, let me calm down and retry.

Thank you for answering my last ask, I can't help but notice how no one knows where Bee's ghost is. And Megatron is the one looking into the Matrix... Is he haunting Megatron? Trying to stop him from doing it? Helping him?

Is Optimus's ghost following Ratchet around like a sad puppy?

Also just the pairings- Jazz with Megatronus? THat sounds... like fun.

Do the primes miss the other Primes and ask their host if they can check on the other bots that got shrapeneled? Maybe one of them asks if they can find a way to talk with the others... or maybe they can talk trough the hosts... maybe... (ah ah possessed arc)

(PS I really vibe with Hive's whole deal, he is very cool :D and I'm devastated that I'm the one that discovered how he explodes)

Hug hug!

Hi again!!! Don't worry, Bee is still here!

His spirit is just...struggling. He's weak at first, flickering like a dying light bulb. He hasn't left the fractured core of the Matrix still in his corpse, but his soul signature is so weak no one can find him. He's just sort of trapped there for a while, in the burnt out room he died in. Until Megatron of course.

Megatron breaks into the autobot base, walks past every sleeping mech he could easily have snuffed, and steals the Matrix core, and by unintentional extension, steals Bumblebee. Now at first, Bee is rightfully upset. He hates being at the gloomy decepticon base, he hates Megatron for taking his voice, he's just mad. Time passes as Megatron tinkers with the core, and Bee regains strength enough to....throw things???

It shouldn't be possible. Somehow this unstable remnant of the Matrix doesn't contain him, but merely houses him, and as he grows stronger, he can appear as an apparition to Megatron. He uses it almost solely to hinder him. With no voice (even ghost Bee gets no respite) all he can really do is mess up Megatron's workspace and insult him through pantomime. Really he doesn't understand why Megatron puts up with it, but aside from the occasional fit of rage at his antics, the decepticon leader ignores him as much as possible and puts his all into trying to restore the Matrix.

Before long he starts having one sided conversations with Bumblebee. Its mostly complaints at first, and insults towards him and the autobots and whatever else goes wrong in his life outside of this little workshop Bee cant leave. It soon gives way to more private matters; intentionally or not, Megatron is revealing his very convoluted, very mixed feelings about Optimus Prime.

The war has gone on too long, why couldn't that idiot just see things from his perspective, he deserved to die, he will be brought back, how could his oldest friend just leave him like this...

To Bee it sounds...exactly like how Optimus felt about Megatron, just drowned in molten anger issues. Against his self preservation instinct, Bee decides to work towards putting this whole mess to bed. Nothing better to do.

With what limited knowledge and communication he has, he does his best to try and help Megatron fix the Matrix. They have spats still, and plenty of set backs, but things smooth over when Megatron (begrudgingly) admits to feelings of regret over taking Bee's voice. As an olive branch, Bee explains something to Megatron that he's been dying to know: how Optimus died.

Things sour fast. Megatron is determined to murder Starscream, Bee is frustratedly trying to explain that if he does so, this little partnership of convenience is over, and he will ensure that the Matrix is never restored. The end of the war relies almost solely on Megatron reeling in his damn anger, and Bee doesnt intend to allow any slip ups. He has no idea how this will end when Megatron leaves the workshop that night.

On the other side of things, the Primes are having a real...weird time?? The ones without hosts can communicate with each other, but the other four are basically cut off from all but their hosts. They don't have the ability to take control anymore, and even if they did, their hosts are nowhere near as easy to possess, nor as willing, as Hive Prime was. Ratchet especially has threatened to tear the Matrix metal from his frame and grind it to dust if Prima so much as thinks about trying it. The other three hosts are similarly put off.

Once again the Primes are relegated to giving advice, but it's not advice anyone seems to want, and yeah, it's mostly because of the wild pairings. Megatronus is constantly clutching his pearls over Jazz's laid-back attitude and deliberate ignorance of his wishes. Prima's calm rationality does little to temper Ratchet's snappy demeanor and only really gets on his nerves (how can you be so calm after what you all did?). Ironhide straight up refuses to acknowledge Quintus. Drift is probably the only one feeling alright with all this. Alpha Trion is generally reasonable, and isn't interested in having control over Drift's form, nor was he interested in it with Hive, so they just vibe like college roommates.

It's uncomfortable, but the Primes are used to sharing space. The worst part is actually sharing it with fewer mechs than usual. The Primes all miss each other to varying degrees, but for the most part are either too egotistical to admit it, or think it improper to mention.

Of course, grand prize for worst ghost time currently goes to Optimus. Dying, watching Bee suffer, feeling his friend's life force extinguish...

He might as well be a husk right now, full on silent treatment is all he's capable of at the moment. The other Primes know better than to try and speak with him. This is their doing to begin with, the channeling of their energy that strained Bee so heavily. Optimus follows the elected council around during the days, but at night he sits outside the room where Hive's body rests. He was there the night that Megatron broke in.

It takes immense effort to travel far enough out from the base to go see Megatron, and he needs several cycles to recover after every attempt, but he keeps doing it, knowing he could fade away permanently. When he gets there, he's too weak for Bee or Megatron to detect him. But he can hear their talks. He misses them both more than words can say.

(Sorry the response is so long, lol. This ask really got the gears turning in my head. I hope at least that makes up for being the one to find out that Ending 3 Hive dies bloody. I'm really flattered to hear you like him! For me that's quite high praise coming from you. Hug hug!)

[lvmimis]

cw: vergil x lady in red!reader. mature but no explicit smut.

Your steps are quicker than usual, far too eager for a lady of the night, but you’ve been beckoned, yet again, by your gentleman caller for what is not the first time and hopefully not the last time.

The other women for sale find you a curiosity - those that are thought of as nothing more than property and pleasure have learned to smile but it has never truly reached their eyes, not the way yours does… There’s a sort of envy you can feel accenting the rouge of their cheeks as they watch you glide down the halls.

You were called. You were summoned.

Perhaps you are living a fantasy in your head, one where you are something more than just a warm body to lay on top of for much less than a pretty penny.

But you were called. 

You want to see him. You want him to see you.

—

Vergil doesn’t know why he keeps coming back. His coat pocket weighs heavy with coins - your price isn’t high, but there is some extra money he plans to leave with you, something the brothel will not be able to get his hands on, and he has no idea why. 

There is one sole thing that brought him here the first time. Not love - no, love is not found in a place like this that deals in depravity and possessiveness and commodification of a human body - but a desire to experience human warmth, something that he has been missing for many, many years, ever since that night. 

It is far too easy to shirk off your humanity when you are barely that to begin with, but this one desire, the need to feel warm skin against skin, the beat of someone else's heart through one’s fingertips, is far too stubborn to leave him.

The urge does not leave, and thus he pays for sex.

Although, he only pays for it with you. Just you.

—

You still don’t know his name, but you’d recognize the icy blue eyed-stare, the stern glacial brows, and the ethereally white hair anywhere. 

And as such, you’d never forget the gentle way he touches you. Not speaking with his lips, but terribly communicative with the way his tongue laves over your body and through the tenderness and desire in the varied pressure of his palms and fingers. You suspect his disposition is less sweet than serious, but you can hear something in his sighs that is too heavy for one person to bear, something that is only burdensome to a naturally sensitive soul. You’d like to carry some of that weight with him, for him even, but you suspect you may never understand.

He’s younger than he looks despite his pale features but when he’s no longer looking at you, taking you in, you sense the faraway stare of a man that has contemplated too much and found it tiresome. Still, he appears resolute always when he’s done feeling you. He never leaves immediately, but when he rises to his feet it’s with the weary sigh of an old lover who is forced to part.

“Will you tell me your name?” you ask finally, the marks of particularly zealous kisses starting to bloom on your neck, your shoulders, your upper arms, your breasts.

He doesn’t answer, and his back turns. 

You should be hurt, but you can tell if he could he would. Instead you smile to yourself.

“I’ll wait for you again tonight. I like you more than my other customers,” you remind him.

He tenses but he says nothing as he slips his pants back on in the dead of night. He glances at you, his lips parting but with nothing coming out to comfort you, to confirm what you feel he holds deep in his chest.

Perhaps you’re only imagining that he’s different from your other johns, but you cannot be that far off, can you?

“Be well.”

A sack of coins is set on the countertop, far more than he’s ever offered you before, and you know automatically to keep it from the madame, to share it amongst the other playthings of the lodge.

He moves to leave, and you can feel something tugging at your chest.

This might be the last time, a sort of parting gift.

“Where are you going?” you ask, tentatively. You don’t expect an answer from him despite the fact that you ask - you are demanding too much and his thoughts are held close to his chest, but god almighty, if only he would tell you.

He smiles for the first time, and it’s a painful, beautiful thing.

And then he is gone.

You will never see him again.

—

Your son is a few days old. A shock of white hair adorns his soft, round features, and his eyes are the same blue, unburdened and clear like sky rather than hard like ice. You caress his face once before you set him at the foot of the church, the sack of gold at his side.

You expect that he’ll have a better fate than you, filled with love and light. You retreat to the dark alleys, a tainted woman of the night.

[occasionalsnippets]

Hello! I have an ask for your family dissonance au. It’s a scenario I’m curious about that you mentioned in one of your writings. What would happen if reader needed up in an alternate au that doesn’t have her in it dressed as Robin because she was filling in? (In like a Yandere way btw). Would she be able to hide, would she reveal herself? What would the Batfam she was originally with do when they notice she is gone??? And for drama sake what if Tim in the other au she falls into was in the time period he was banned from being Robin for his safety due to Redhood just appearing? What would Redhood do about another Robin?

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations

---

When you aren't acting as Robin, everything is fair game.

If you don't land near a bat, you're not likely to reveal yourself or go to the manor until you do some information gathering. You play it careful, avoid getting caught on any cameras and head to a safe house. Disabling all the hidden mics and trackers is child's play and the safe house is stocked enough for you to get your bearings.

First things first, the internet. Doing a quick search reveals the current state of Gotham, its vigilantes and rogues. Pretty standard stuff. Your plan is mainly to just bunker down until you're found. There's nothing stopping you from doing so and sooner or later, your family will find you.

Those plans are ruined deep into the night by someone else breaking into the safe house.

Red Hood stumbles in, trailing blood all over the place. You're already categorizing his injuries by the time he drags himself over to the couch. Several bullets. Dislocated shoulder. Some kind of fear toxin. All things you can fix if you choose to get involved.

You might as well. Jason will live whether you do or don't but you would feel bad about leaving him. He's not all that there while you're treating him but he's definitely more lucid after getting the antidote.

"So," you hum as you dig bullets out of his flesh, "do you specifically want Batman to kill the Joker or do you want to kill him yourself or are you okay if anyone kills him."

He mutters something you can't hear. The blood loss is probably getting to him. By the time you're finished wrapping him up, his breathing has slowed and become steady. You pat his smooth helmet. Even if it's part of his brand, it kinda makes him look bald.

"Sleep tight, Hood."

By the time he wakes, you are gone and the Joker is dead.

I'm not really sure how to spin the rest of it in a yandere type of way since you don't stay long enough in the universe to really trigger anything.

Jason's helmet probably has some kind of recording thing though so there's evidence of you in the universe before you disappear. Plus in your quest to commit murder, you run into a couple other bats too. The bats in that universe might end up spiralling trying to find you though since a. you killed the Joker, b. you patched Jason up, c. you look like Tim, and d. you broke into a safe house too easily.

Maybe they'll find where you came from, maybe they won't, but regardless, they're sure to have questions.

---

On the other side of the coin, what is going on with your batfam?

They notice within probably 10 ish minutes or less that your trackers are down. In less than half an hour, their facts are confirmed. You’ve gone missing. Like any good detectives, information gathering comes first and conclusions drawn from evidence last. Despite that, they’re actually pretty frantic in their search for you.

Most resources are diverted solely to finding you, everything else is dealt with quickly and efficiently so they aren’t wasting time. Once they narrow things down to magic, fixing everything is actually quite easy. Thank goodness you’re not difficult to find. If it took any longer, you probably wouldn’t want to know the lengths they’d go to for you to be back home and safe.

—

There are three Robins in Titan’s Tower. One current Robin, one former Robin and one not-Robin. It is, in summary, a Spider-Man pointing meme situation.

There’s a lot of yelling and fighting and “you’re ruining my plan” and “well I wasn’t trying to” but it doesn’t end with any major injuries.

Tim and Jason definitely think it’s a time travel thing where future Tim came back to the past to fix something. You don’t have enough energy to correct them. Either way, you stall long enough for the big Bat and Nightwing to come crashing into Titan’s Tower for an early reveal.

You’re gone by the time they get back to the topic of your presence. Hidden away, waiting to return home.

[cameronsbabydoll]

Does sugar coated rafe ever do anything nice & sweet for the oc that’s for her happiness & not necessarily for his “control” ? Just anything in general really.

I also was thinking while reading the 2nd epilogue, the oc was pretty deep into post partum depression etc, & if that were to go any further (like her having suicidal thoughts for example) or even just her being genuinely so broken down that everyone (even random kids lmao) can tell that she is NOT okay , would rafe do something (that’s not for solely his gain but for her) ? Like we know he cares for her in his twisted own way but would something like that scare him? Her being so broken down, would he ever have thoughts like “ i cant lose her/ i need to help her etc” ?

Small But Genuine Acts of Kindness:

Taking Care of Her Without Making a Show of It: Rafe isn’t the type to say “I love you” outright or do big romantic gestures, but he shows his affection in quiet ways. Like making sure her car is always filled with gas, keeping her jewelry clean, or replacing things she loses before she even realizes they’re missing.

Paying Attention to Her Small Comforts: If she casually mentions that she likes a certain kind of tea or perfume, it’ll just appear in their home without her asking.

Letting Her Have Some Freedom (On Her Terms): Maybe she wants to go on a small trip with friends or have a night out—something that usually makes him tense. But sometimes, when he can tell she really needs it, he’ll let her go without an argument (while still having her watched, of course).

Moments of Softness at Night: When they’re in bed and she’s curled up beside him, sometimes he’ll play with her hair, rub slow circles into her back, or just hold her a little tighter.

If She Got Really Bad (Deep Postpartum Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Etc.)

Yes, that would scare him. Rafe is obsessed with her—he needs her. The idea of her slipping so far that she’s completely broken down? That would shake him in a way that almost nothing else could.

Denial at First: He might try to brush it off at first, refusing to believe she’s that bad.

“You’re tired, that’s all. The baby keeps you up, you just need sleep.”

But then he starts seeing it—how lifeless she looks, how even strangers can tell she’s not okay, how she barely reacts to anything anymore.

Realization & Fear: The moment it clicks for him that she’s not just tired, that she’s actually drowning in this, it would send him into panic mode. He wouldn’t show it outwardly, but inside? He’d be spiraling.

“I can’t lose her.”

“She’s mine. She’s always been mine.”

“I have to fix this.”

What He Would Do About It:

He’d actually listen (for once). If she says she needs something—therapy, medication, more time to herself—he’ll give it to her, no arguments.

He’d take over completely. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger. He’d hire extra help, make sure she’s never alone, and force her to rest.

He’d be more present. No more late nights out, no more business trips. He’d physically be there, watching her closely.

He’d take care of her in a way that’s not about control, but about making sure she doesn’t slip away from him. If she can’t even get out of bed, he’ll bring her food. If she won’t talk, he’ll just sit with her, quietly, waiting.

At his core, Rafe isn’t a good man. But he needs her, and he wouldn’t let her drown in her own mind. If things got bad enough, his possessiveness would turn into something almost desperate—because losing her is the one thing he cannot handle.

[eeboyysworld]

“Broken down and hungry for your love, with no way to feed it.”

—⋆. ᯓ★ ⋆.

Genre: Angst

In-ho X Male!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Reader is lowkey evil ..beware , angst but things get a lil heated , attachment issues , guilt tripping, hurt no comfort, blood and death , Unrequited love, love bombing.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The bunk bed that he sat on was rather uncomfortable, feeling the metal bottom beneath him, bright white sheet crumping under his shoes.

The tacky tracksuit clinging his frame , his body filling it up.

Metal tray in one hand, stuffed with dull over cooked rice, milk in another. The white liquid swashing around the container.

He was the one who conducted the games to be like this, who was he to complain about his own doing.

Maybe he rather focus on the imperfections he missed than watching you across the room, you , who was currently messing around with some purple haired freak.

You, whose sole purpose was to ruin him, taking him apart piece by piece. Leaving him once he had absolutely nothing, only to beg you not to leave.

It was pathetic. The way he managed to become a love-sick fool under your embrace, just a touch and he’ll melt into you.

He would say that his and your souls interlinked, merging into one.But, your soul was tainted, officially marking his own demise.

You, who had let him in with open arms, wide smile and home-cooked meals.But, even after all that love, he would find himself getting pushed away from you, warm hands no longer holding him, no words of comfort.

Comfort replaced with disdain , the tone you held was harsh on him.

Ever since he won these games, he found no purpose in life.The will to hang on slowly slipping out of reach.

Until, one summer day , you appeared before him, laced with swimming trunks , open button - up shirt loosely wrapped around you. Water droplets falling down your soaked locks of hair , sunglasses sat on-top your nose.

Kindly asking him to join a round of volleyball, since you and whoever else was there were short one member.

It was random, he came to the beach on a typical afternoon. Hoping to jump in the lake and catch a cool breeze. But yet, he found you. Or, more like you found him.

Someone who could calm him down without a breeze.

He wasn’t the sports type, but after seeing you, the urge to please you had fallen into place.

Convincing himself that all he was doing was being kind, not that he just agreed because he wanted to see more of you.

After some time passed, one thing was sure of , he had fallen in love with a stranger.

He had told himself he was gonna join this game just to keep a keen eye on the man who desperately wanted to shut this place down.

Sabotaging any plan that took place.

But he looked too long across the room, his eye catching you, the small tattoo on your finger , the one you got during the teenage years, inked your skin, the one he traced each day in bed.

How could he have not seen your picture.. had he forgotten the past he shared with you. Perhaps, after-all it had been 5 years since he last saw you.

He had quite the busy life after taking over as the front-man.

Now that he caught you, looking content with yourself. Looking like you had it all under control, while he still yearned after you.

You were doing fine despite the debt you had, while he lost his mind over you.

———-

It wasn’t long before you had him under your finger.

After scanning the whole room of people out of curiosity , you had immediately noticed the man. Sitting next to another middle aged man, a young guy who claimed to be a marine along with another, a rather young women snacking on some extra bread.

The smile you held was the opposite of what you felt, jealousy flowed through you. ‘ Did he get over you that fast ‘ .

You waited all day , ignoring him, ignoring the constant glances he threw.

Waited till night-time appeared, watched as the other man politely asked to use the restroom.

Sneakily getting up, nudging the purple haired male off of you, grumbling in his sleep.

Stalking your way over to the door, giving the nicest look you had to the square headed guard, flirting your way to the back.

By the time you reached the bathroom, the man you searched for was leaned against one of the many sinks, water falling down the drain.

Taking it upon yourself to speak up, scaring the lonely man as you spoke.

“I missed you.” The other flinched , quickly looking up, eyes landing onto yours. The shock evident over his features. As you prowled your way over to him.

Still as a statue, your own body cornering his, hovering over the poor man.

He couldn’t move even if he wanted to so desperately lean towards you.Heart pounding endlessly, butterflies in his stomach like he was 16 again.

You still looked so beautiful, even as blood smeared across your face, the dried parts prickling off , every imperfection was perfect for him.

Part of you missed him, truth be told.. you only broke things off because you got bored.

Age graced the man with more beauty, soft skin glowing in the dim light.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, cracked from the being over - bitten, but still smooth.

The lips he once used to kiss, whispering ‘i love you’ into each other. Oh , how he missed it.

“ You left me all alone.” That wasn’t true, he knew that. But the way you spoke with such authority, he could only believe any little word you said.

His lips quivered, tears slowly filling up his sight, your face becoming blurry, vision blacking out as he shut his eyes closed.

Pain emitted inside his chest , every memory engraving itself into him, every little talk you guys had, big and small.

Searching for the answer on why you left.

Cooing softly, lifting his chin upwards, kissing the tears away, the saltiness reaching your taste buds. Being as gentle as you can muster.

Guiding the broken man’s head into your embrace, soothing the brown locks of fluff, slowly rocking you both back and forth.

The shirt you wore became damp, the wetness making you cringe slightly, but it didn’t matter , as long as you held him in your arms.

He kept apologizing..again , and again. The words becoming a prayer. The heaviness ached inside him no matter how much you tell him he was forgiven.

Your lips finding his cheek again, the tears still flowing out. Sluggishly moving downwards, closer and closer to his mouth.

You both stood there, the water still dripping down the drain.

All you heard was his breathing mixed with the heavy silence. All that he heard was static ringing inside his ears.

Searching his eyes for any kind of decline, yet you found none, just pools of regret swimming inside the black orbs.

No movement was made, he didn’t try to move away from you. All he did was stare at you, afraid that this was just a sick twisted dream his head would muster up.

But no, you were very much real.. here with him. Even as his sight was blurry , he knew you were still here, as the feeling of plush lips pressed against his own.

“Don’t you miss me?” His lips stuttered but no sound came out. Continuing on with your stunt, pressing yourself flush against the other.

He didn’t move for a bit, slight doubt entering you , before lips started to work with yours, enticing slow movements.

His own lips trembled, hands gripping for life onto your flesh, nails biting down.

Adjusting yourself to dig deeper into the shaky man, stroking his jaw, the skin plushy as you played with it.

It was only a few minutes before a loud knock echoed the room. The guard you had long forgotten stood there, stiff as a broad.

If you didn’t know any better you would think he was nervous.. why would he care if you were making out with a random dude. Wasn’t like they somehow knew each other.

‘Ridiculous’ removing your body away from contact, clearing your throat, solemnly walking away.

Walking away like he was nothing to you but a play thing.

Nudging the guards shoulder as you hurriedly left, successfully leaving the masked man and the man you once loved.

Said man stood there, wobbly as awkward silence followed suit after the door shut.

He wanted to reach out to you.

You had just left him here after sucking on his face. Left like you had the night you admitted you didn’t love him anymore.

Delusions kept him going, foolishly thinking you could and would one day come running back to him.

Expect you weren’t the one running , he was the one running a whole mile just for you.

———

The night went on, people snoring away like their life wasn’t on the line. Most slept carelessly, others took caution. Gi-hun’s group being one of them.

In-ho found himself touching his lips , the feeling of yours molding against him, the burn still there, waiting to be ignited.

He took the second chance to stay on guard, he knew nobody was gonna try anything. He made sure of it, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

Sleep was catching up to him, eyes hazy as his weight fell onto the pole next to him.

Thoughts of you turned into dreams.

———

The next day was brutal. He should know of all people.. but the blood brought back unwanted memories, ones he forgot as time went on.

Mingle. The game were you don’t know what’s gonna happen next.

He stood next to the man who seemed to befriend him, having no clue who he truly was, as the determined man gripped his hand, waiting for the next number announced.

The number 5 flashed on the screen, the group he had rushing into an empty room. While running , he searched for you in the crowd.

There you were, running with the same young guy, the punk. You should be with someone your age ..but it didn’t still the want in his stomach.

The smile on your face was wide , the purple haired boy must of gave you some sort of drug. That only added on to his list of worries.

The last round came around. Everyone around him anxiously awaited, waiting for the number to be announced.

The number ‘2’ flashed across the big screen as the robotic voice filled the room. It was uneven, just like he planned.

He immediately got pulled away , gi-hun gripped onto his blood dried tracksuit. His legs carrying his weight across the room , worried for you.

Looking from person to person, only to find you getting ditched, that’s what it looked like to him at least.

You stood there frozen, adrenaline rushing through your whole body. The flashing lights hitting your face.

He could only watch as you got swept among the crowed of desperate people.

The room he was in coloured a bright orange, blood stained the walls and floor.

Rushing to the little peep hole, not caring for the other man’s glance of confusion.

Rapidly searching for you, looking for the number you wore.

His heart could break in half from the pressure.

The guard showed no mercy towards you despite the constant reminder he said to not kill you.

Dreed filled him. Watched as you got thrown to the ground, the masked men playing around with you. Were they targeting you on purpose.

Had the square headed guard told the others about what happened last night.

He loved you so much it hurt. Sickness could be felt pooling inside him.

He could only watch the scene in-front of him , blood dripped down the side of your head , the wide gash evident.

One of the men was searching through the room, before suddenly locking onto his door number.

Gripping your broken body, waltzing towards him.

His eyes scanned the blood adorning your face, you still looked perfect to him. Your eyes barely opened, the glint in them no longer there.

He couldn’t speak. He would be revealed if he said anything at all. All this work would be for nothing.

The man proceeded to lean towards the open hole, whispering so only he could hear.

“Just doing my job sir..He was left outside.”

He found himself slamming his head against the door , he already went crazy during the last game, who cares anymore.

He couldn’t watch this, all he heard was your voice speaking out in a gruff manner.

“I’ll.. love you- in the next life.”

Before the unmistakable gun shot rang throughout the empty room. Silence followed, before the sound of leather boots walked away.

It was quiet, he forgotten about the other presence in the room.

Your last moments were decided for you.

A hand rested on his shoulder, rubbing him repeatedly. It felt like a sin to have anyone touch him beside you.

All he could do now ,while stuck with the other man , was to hide his head towards the door. Hiding the tears silently falling down , digging his teeth into his lips to stop the sobs.

You said you’ll love him in the next life. But , why couldn’t it be this one?

ᯓ★

My bad for angst ..do you still think im sexy aha🤗❕

Thank you guys for the support!!🩷