#free me from the constant replays

[harryslittlefreakk]

arrogant s.o.b

summary: based on this request - grumpy/mean Harry and readers first fight and he says something really harsh/yells and makes her cry? And then feels really bad after like grumpyxsunshine vibes?

warnings: angst

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: thank you to the anon who sent in this request!! 🥰💖 sorry it took me a while to get around to it. please let me know if this isn’t quite what you wanted, i don’t know if I’m 100% happy with it so im more than willing to tweak and rewrite!!!

my masterlist!! please feel free to send me more requests 💓 happy reading

“I miss you, Harry.”

You knew you were pushing it, he was already working himself to breaking point. But you couldn’t help it, you missed your boyfriend. His break was meant to be about finding time for himself again, spending time with his loved ones. And you thought that meant being with you, not spending every day confined to the four walls of a recording studio.

“I can’t delay my entire album because you miss me.”

“I’m not asking you to delay the entire album. Just take a day off, just once.”

“Why?! For what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Now you were both pissed off. You didn’t understand why Harry couldn’t just slow down. You’d only been able to see him in Italy for a few days, your work schedule unexpectedly busy. Part of you thought he was ‘punishing’ you for that, the sane part of you knew that his summer in Italy was his rest, and now he was back in London he needed to work. Harry’s work ethic was one of the things you admired most about him, and now you were arguing with him over it.

“Clearly it does matter.” He was stood by the door, keys in his hand, a dark scowl printed on his face.

“It’s fine, just go. Have a good day.” The hurt was evident in your voice, but you didn’t even want Harry to stay now with the atmosphere you’d created.

He hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to stay and needing to leave. Finally, he sighed and turned to walk out the door without another word. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the silent room, leaving you alone in your thoughts.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you sank into the sofa. You’d pushed him away when all you wanted was for him to stay. You knew you’d always come second to his career, he prioritised you over almost everything in his life but his music was so important to him. But once he finished recording, there would be interviews and appearances, then a tour, and then you’d be back here again. It was constant, unrelenting, and if he couldn’t even sacrifice one day for you, how could you expect him to slow down?

—

Harry stood frozen on the other side of the door, still stuck between needing to come back in and wanting to go. It never usually got to this point, one of you would back down before someone got hurt. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it worked for you. He hated fighting, hated seeing you upset. But he was only now realising that it was usually you that compromised. He knew you well, and for you to actually speak up and ask him to stay despite knowing how important his work is to him? He’d fucked up.

He leaned against the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly as he closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. Guilt washed over him as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He knew he needed to find a balance between his work and his relationship, but it was easier said than done.

His hand fell from the door handle as he turned on his heel, dragging his feet away from the house. If he was going to make it right, he needed to be armed with all of your favourite things.

—

Harry replayed the morning in his head the entire time he was out. You’d woken up to his alarm as always, rolling over in his arms to wake him up with soft kisses. “Why do you set alarms if you know you can’t wake up for them?” you laughed, tapping at his nose as his eyes fluttered open. “Because you wake up and I get morning kisses,” he smiled, pulling you tighter to his chest.

He remembered how the morning light hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your puffy eyes and blushed cheeks. He’d caught himself wishing he could have five more minutes in bed with you, time to savour waking up next to his love. But he’d rolled out of bed in the same way as always, slipping out from under you just as you tried to curl your body around his.

You’d followed him to the bathroom silently, lingering in the doorway as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Wish I got to see you more,” you’d mumbled, eyes following his through the mirror. “You see me every day, kitten,” he’d replied, poking his tongue out when he saw you watching. He’d noticed your face fall slightly, a misty kind of sadness replace the natural glint in your eye. He cringed as he thought back, but he’d purposely ignored it to save himself the trouble.

“I see you when I wake up and just before bed,” you’d pouted, eyes glued to your suddenly fidgety hands. “I cant help that right now, pet. You know I can’t,” he’d tried to reason with you, and looking back, Harry thought maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Just a morning or an afternoon at home would be nice. Not even a full day,” you’d told him, voice cracking as you looked back up at him.

“I can’t have this conversation right now,” he’d muttered, kicking at the door until it swung closed in front of you.

And there he was now, heart struck with guilt at the thought of how badly he had neglected you.

—

As he heard your keys jingle outside the door, Harry finished rearranging his purchases across the bed. He gave one final look to the flowers on your windowsill, the beautiful blush pink roses he knew you loved. It was perfect, he just hoped it would be enough.

“Hi darling,” he smiled sheepishly as he walked down the stairs.

“Hi, H,” you replied, brows knitted as you stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Come,” Harry murmured, reaching out a hand for you to take. You dropped your bag by door and took it, fingers tangling with his as he lead you back to the bedroom.

He stopped outside the bedroom door, pulling you into his arms. “M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “Didn’t think about what it’s like for you. I need time with you just as much as you need it w’me.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you told him, cuddling into his chest. “Nothing to be sorry for, pet.”

“Shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” you murmured, eyes closed as you breathed in his musky aftershave.

“Gave me the push I needed. M’not good at taking time off.”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” you laughed, stepping away from him as he turned to open the bedroom door.

“Got you your perfect day,” he smiled, stepping out of the way so you could see his creation.

All your favourite snacks were laid out on the bed, your matching pyjamas folded on the corner. The most beautiful flowers you’d ever seen in your favourite vase on the windowsill, candles lit on your nightstand and a cheesy rom com loaded on the tv.

“You did all of this?” you cooed, a grin spreading across your face as your gaze turned to Harry. He nodded, pulling his t-shirt off.

“Nuh uh,” you swatted his hand away as he reached to pick up the pyjama top. “Only my perfect day if you’re topless,” you smirked, quickly peeling your clothes off to throw the pyjamas on.

You climbed into bed next to Harry, pulling the duvet up to your chin before wrapping your body around his, your head at home on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, arms wrapped right around you.

“Made a few calls. Gonna start only doing three days at a time in the studio, then three days off,” he whispered, grinning when you immediately whipped round to look at him. “Don’t have to do that for me baby,” you gasped, brows furrowed.

“It’s the right call. Just gonna be longer days but worth it all if it means more time with you,” Harry winked, his hand caressing the curve of your waist.

You shifted upwards, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you smiled. “And congratulations.”

Harry returned your kiss, his lips lingering just a second longer than yours had. His touch and his kisses felt like home to you, his smile your lifeblood. “To me? For what?”

“To us. For our first fight,” you giggled, holding out a hand to high-five Harry. He grabbed a hold of your hand, using it to pull you even closer to him, until your faces were only centimetres apart.

“Here’s to our first and last fight,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. His teeth latched onto your bottom lip as he went in for another kiss, the rocky waves in your stomach turning to butterflies as his tongue moved around yours.

You pulled away after a minute, settling back into his arms with a smile so bright it could have lit up the room.

“Can’t believe we started the day with you thinking your album is more important than me,” you mumbled, a mischievous sparkle in your eye as you tangled your fingers between Harry’s.

“Millions of adoring fans who’d do anything for me versus one woman? I know who I’m picking,” he teased, laughing as you smacked his thigh with your free hand.

“Maybe they were right,” you whispered, peering up at him.

“Hm?”

“About you being an arrogant son of a bitch.”

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[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[moonlight-prose]

girl I just know Logan would fuck so good it’s criminal 😩

damn he can destroy me any dayyyyy

the way i am losing every bit of sense in my mind, body, and soul just thinking about this man is detrimental to my health. someone take away my rights to fixate on him cause i'm already dead. 18+ only. which means minors this is not for you.

He's nasty with it when he decides to fuck you. And it's not a hard decision to come to. In fact, he finds it relatively simple. All it takes is one smile his way, one glance in his direction, and would you look at that - he's hard and leaking.

Maybe it's some borderline obsession he has with you. He's choosing to think of it as love.

So when he finally gets a chance to take you in the way he likes - slow and teasing with just a hint of the feral animal within him - he jumps at the chance. He spreads you on the bed, locks the fucking door to keep out unwanted visitors (Wade), and delves into the fantasies that keep him up at night. Although in his mind, he prefers images of you coming on his cock, to endless nightmares.

You couldn't remember a time where you weren't possessed by this man. Where he wasn't claiming your mouth in a kiss so searing - all teeth and tongue and enough spit to trail down your chin. Where he wasn't knuckle deep - his thumb a constant pressure on your already overstimulated clit.

The sob he wrenches from your body isn't loud enough to appease his hunger.

So he curls his fingers, latches his tongue to your slit, and eats until your dripping down his chin. Later when your asleep, he'll be able to taste you still clinging to his lips.

Obscenely he once called it his midnight snack. Only to feel you punch him in the side with an embarrassed shriek.

And when he finally fucks you; sinks deep into your used cunt that's still throbbing from your fourth orgasm. He's depraved with it. He grips your chin and forces you to watch his pupils dilate - growing darker with each harsh thrust.

He uses the weight of his hips to pin you to the bed and pounds into your squelching pussy. Your dripping down to his balls that slap repeatedly against your ass. A creamy white ring has formed at the base of his red tinted cock, and the screams he tears from your throat are enough to soothe his inhumane hunger.

When he fucks you he's whittled you down to the raw nerves beneath your skin. He's ripped free every sound, every tear, and demands to see it again.

You finish with a broken wet sob that should be his name, but doesn't quite make the cut. And he cums inside you - always inside - with a harsh bitten out groan. One you'll replay on nights when he's stuck on a mission and all you have to keep you company are your fingers.

And even after all that. After you're a leaking incoherent person laying on the bed - eyes bleary with tears and lips curled into a fucked out smile. He'll kiss you softly, lick up whatever spit he missed from your tongue, and slide his way back down your body.

With the claim: A good man cleans up his fuckin' mess.

[saturnville]

skin tight, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross...and it comes with consequences. warning: angst song: skin tight by ravyn leane, steve lacy an: this is part 2 to "bite." listen as you read if you choose :). wc: 864 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 (I'll remove those who don't want to be tagged, please just let me know!)

The urge to relieve herself woke her up the next morning. It was still early; the sun had hardly risen over the horizon, the birds were full of energy, and the screeching tires of rushed vehicles on the highway. 

Her body was sore and her mind was exhausted when her eyes opened. There was a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She felt content, satisfied even, from the intimate moments she shared with Lewis the previous evening. She could still feel his lips against hers, his hands on her body and his warmth. She loved it. Yet, there was underlying apprehension about what it meant for their relationship moving forward. 

She couldn’t help but think about the first time they met at the Formula One race all those years ago. A chance encounter that started as teasing banter blossomed into something beautiful that she cherished just as much as life itself. Their friendship had been a constant source of support, understanding, and respect, but as she lay next to him, in a position she never thought she’d be in, she couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty, 

Anvika groaned softly as she attempted to free herself from his grasp. Her head turned to look at him. She’d fallen asleep beside him many times before. This was different. He held her close this time, his strong arm around her waist and his hand on her breast, squeezing every so often. He looked so peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and his golden brown skin was raw with remnants of her lipstick smeared across. He was so beautiful. 

As she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lewis who was still asleep, she couldn’t help but replay the events of the night before. It was exhilarating, freeing, even, to release her inhibitions and give in to the desires that had stirred within her. But now, in the quiet of the morning, reality sunk in. 

She had (sort of) slept with the man she called her closest friend. She knew some consequences came with that. Anvika knew they would need to have a conversation about what had happened, but she was unsure of how it would go. Setting boundaries (if they were still present), clarifying their feelings, and ensuring the solidarity of their friendship needed to be addressed. But, as anxiety crashed over her like a tidal wave, she decided to let him sleep and let herself bask in the memory of the previous night. 

As Anvika finished in the bathroom, She couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in the back of her mind. She hoped their bond was strong enough to withstand what came next, but, as anxiety crashed over her like a tidal wave, she decided to let him sleep and let herself bask in the memory of the previous night. 

When she returned to the bed, she saw Lewis on his back, arm thrown over his face to block the smiling sun that danced outside the window. His strong chest was on full display and she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering. She shook her head and made her way to the bed.

Lewis lowered his arm and turned toward her. His gaze was intense as he beckoned her near. Anvika slid into the bed next to him, tucking herself under his arm. “Good morning.” His voice was low and full of sleep. 

“Morning,” she replied. “Sleep well?” 

Lewis hummedther of them said anything after that. The hustle and bustle of the city was enough. As Anvika lay on his chest being caressed by his warm hands, her mind began to wander again. What would come of their relationship? 

She took in a sharp breath, one that Lewis recognized. So, he spoke before she could, “Later. Just…let me have this moment, okay?” His throat constricted with each word he said.  Her stomach churned. He sounded so desperate as if he knew where her mind was going. He needed something to hold onto just in case it was pulled away from him in an instant. The least she could do was give him that…right? 

Anvika nodded against his chest, “Okay.”

-

“Lew, it was the heat of the moment. It can’t happen again.” 

That didn’t go over well with him. He was used to flings and one-night stands but she made him feel rejected in more ways than one. Nothing more than someone that she used to let her inhibitions go. His mind was racing. Questions, thoughts, and feelings clouded his mind and he struggled to articulate what he wanted to say. 

Her hesitancy was warranted, but Anvika was so opposed to even considering what life would be like as partners that it felt like a slap in the face. 

“That’s not true and you know it,” Lewis said after some time, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t try to downplay what happened between us.” 

Anvika shook her head and tightened her robe. “I’m not downplaying anything. I’m just saying, we’ve been friends for too long to let something like this change our friendship. I care for you too much.”

The racer scoffed. His head dropped to his hands and he inhaled deeply. He tried to make sense of her logic, but nothing added up. Anvika was a firm believer that good friendships were solid foundations for relationships, yet she wasn’t willing to take the chance with him, the man who knew her like the back of his hand. She told him she loved him, and it was not how she usually did. It was so full of adoration and love. Of course, she thought he was asleep when she said it, and truth be told, he was almost there. But, her sentiment caused his senses to alert and suddenly he felt alive. If all that was true, what was holding her back? Was the possibility of being with him that bad?

“What are you scared of, Anvika?” he asked after some time. She visibly winced at his calling of her full name. That wasn’t common between them. He was her Lew, and she was his Ani. The shift had already begun and it was sickening to her stomach. 

She looked taken aback. Her lips parted but nothing came out. She had an answer, she just had no clue how to articulate it. How would she tell him that she was afraid of getting hurt again, that she was angry with herself for teetering the lines of her boundaries, that she was unsure if she was worthy of being the woman on his arm? And most of all, she was scared that if it didn’t work between them she’d lose him forever. Her friend. He meant the most to her. 

“I just,” she paused. “It’s risky. And everything would be different.” She didn’t say much after that. Lewis didn’t press her, either. With one nod, he stood to his feet. Her eyes followed him. He gathered his belongings and shoved his hands in his pocket. He made his way toward the door. 

“Where are you going?”

The conversation was tense. They were talking in circles and he couldn’t stand it. It was filled with unspoken fears and uncertainties. Lewis’s frustration was palpable as he struggled to understand her hesitancy, and Anvika struggled to grapple with her insecurities and her fear of losing him. A cat-and-mouse game that had grown exhausting. 

Lewis didn’t meet her eyes. They reached an impasse as their words fell short and there seemed to be nothing else to say. The divide between them seemed to get wider with each passing minute. With a heavy heart, he said, “I’ll see you around, Ani.” 

Anvika watched him go and a sense of loss washed over her. The door closed softly behind him. And just like that, she was alone.

[kingkatsuki]

— rumours

I missed him a lot. Thank you for always indulging me @katsukikitten

Pairing: Rayne Ames x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, non-consensual filming, voyeurism, perv!Rayne, dry humping, dirty talk, Rayne cums in his pants.

Word Count: 1.7k.

Rayne Ames was never one to believe rumours. 

After all half the ones that he managed to hear in passing were all factually incorrect. Talking about how many bunnies he owned, how many he’d acquired through legitimate means, suggesting that he secretly bred them to make rabbit stew (as if he would ever), fights he’d been in and even suggesting he’d murdered three people (if he had there was no way anyone would find out), and yet he found himself hanging onto this one particular rumour about you. 

The source was already unreliable – Dot Barrett was known to exaggerate everything. And yet when Rayne had heard your name slip from his mouth followed by the insinuation that you enjoyed humping stuffed animals in your free time this was a rumour he was prepared to get behind. 

Ignoring the thought of you using other stuffed toys to get yourself off, thinking of how many other men had gifted you them with this intended purpose, Rayne cornered you one afternoon with a floppy pink plush rabbit that was larger than any he had in his collection. The toy doused in his cologne which if nothing else would leave your bedroom smelling like him as he watched your face light up with joy.

“It’s so big, Rayne.” You’d gasped in surprise when he handed it to you. Trying to subdue the blush that threatened to cast across his cheeks as he pulled his cloak over his crotch to conceal his now ramrod hard cock as it pressed against tight slacks, eager and desperate to be free as he replayed your words in his mind. 

It’s so big, Ranye. No doubt in his mind that he’d be fisting his cock to that later even if the rumours proved to be false. 

“I love him!” You coo, squeezing it tight to your chest which had Rayne jealous of the stuffed toy, his jaw locked in place as he tried to resist the urge to wrap his arms around you himself. 

And not even three hours later, Rayne had found out the truth.

Some may call it magic or perhaps a miracle, but on this occasion Dot Barrett had been right. Pushing thoughts of why exactly he knew this to the side, Rayne held his breath as he watched you hump the soft pink bunny toy he’d bought for you a few hours earlier. And you were even prettier than he could’ve imagined—

Rayne had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from groaning out loud, all too aware of the next room full of his superiors. Pressing his back against the cool stone wall as though he was afraid his legs might give way as he watched your body grind against the soft toy. Your breasts were covered in a pretty lace bra, and he could just about make out a pair of matching panties that sat high on your hips at the bottom of the frame as you angled yourself to create the best friction against the soft material. 

It was lewd, lascivious, depraved but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. 

Your pouty lips practically glistened in the soft light of your bedroom, parted in a near-constant whine that had blood rushing directly to his stiff cock as it pulsed beneath his slacks. Reaching down with his free hand to palm himself he kept his focus on the way you were writhing against the stuffed bunny, trying to mimic your movements as though he was fooling himself that you were here with him— grinding on his lap in the same fashion.

“Oh my god,” You barely whispered beneath your breath as you circled your hips, and yet it was enough to have Rayne groaning out loud, “Feels so good.” 

You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. Watching the way your chest heaves and your eyelashes flutter whenever your clothed clit catches against the cute bowtie that’s settled around the bunny’s neck, fingers gripping the plush a little harder as you change the angle, panning down slightly to show your crotch and the way your cunt glides against it. He wonders how wet you are right now, squinting as though he can make out the faintest hint of a dark patch against the crotch of your panties. Desperately wishing there was a magic he could use to reach through the camera and touch you, to glide his fingers through your messy folds and feel how wet you were for him— because this was definitely all for him. 

“Fuck,” Rayne curses beneath his breath when a sultry moan tumbles from your lips, spreading your thighs wider to press your cunt down on the toy with more force as the seam began to disappear between your soaked folds. Giving him the perfect view of your labia as he imagined stroking his bulging cockhead through them, nudging your clit before feeling your velvety walls flutter around him. 

“Pretty bunny,” He rasps through clenched teeth, “My pretty bunny—”

His hand isn’t enough, he thinks as he palms himself through his slacks. Trying to wrap his hand around himself through the stiff material as he ruts his hips in time with your movements, feeling his pre-soaking through his boxers and staining the fabric. Wondering whether your slick is leaving silvery lines against the fur of the stuffy, whether he’d be able to smell it on it later— 

God, he hoped you’d keep this stuffy with you in bed. He hoped it would become your favourite out of all the ones you had just so he’d get to see this whenever he pleased. Wondering if you’d sit it up on top of your bed so he could watch you coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel as you smoothed cream into your thighs, or trying to decide what to wear for the day as you pranced around in this same pair of pretty panties. 

“Shit.” He grunted as his balls began to seize, feeling the telltale sign of his impending climax as the coil in his pelvis began to tighten. Tightening his grip around the base of his cock as he tried to will himself to hold on a little longer, teetering on the precipice of his pleasure to wait for you to jump first— 

He could tell you had to be close, your pace began to falter as your hips became sloppy. Dragging yourself over the toy persistently as you focused on your clit, letting go of it in favour of reaching up to palm your tits through the sheer bra as the movement had the camera panning back up to your face. 

You were completely lost in ecstasy now, your lips parted in a constant whine as you rocked against the toy. Mumbling out a slew of inaudible words that he wished he could decipher, risking turning the sound up a bar just to try and make them out before you caught him completely off guard with a whiny, debauched moan that he was terrified was loud enough for the people in the next room to hear. God, Renatus would never let him hear the end of it if he knew—

“Fuck, Rayne.” You cried out, throwing your head back as you found your release. Your vision blurred when your body fell forward, scrambling for purchase as your tongue lolled out from between your pouty lips as your calves tightened around the bunny. Your chest heaved as you gulped in fresh breaths of air as your hips instinctively continued to rock against the toy to ride out your release. 

If his grip hadn’t been so firm on the device, it would’ve clattered to the floor with the shock of his name flowing from your lips in such a saccharine tone. The sound had his cock bucking beneath his pants as he came hard, spilling copious amounts of white hot cum into his boxers as his hips rutted against the air. Seeking out the slightest bit of friction as he rubbed against the zipper to his slacks, his chest heaving as his head knocked back against the cool stone behind him. 

Risking another glance down at the phone to watch as you pulled your panties to the side to look at the mess you’d made between your thighs, muttering out the cutest “fuck” Rayne is certain he’s ever heard as you dragged two manicured fingers through your messy slick, holding it out in front of you as you began to spread your fingers apart as the silvery webs started to split between two digits. It was almost as though you knew he was watching you as you put on an elaborate show for him, giving him the showstopping finale as you reached up to slip those same two fingers into your mouth to clean them off. 

Rayne’s spent cock quivered at the sight, you were already willing him back to life as he pressed a rough palm against it in a feeble attempt to keep it down— but all it ended up doing was causing his soaked boxers to stick to his skin uncomfortably as he tried to shift his hips to ease the sensation. Wishing he was with you, spreading your thighs open as he settled between them to drag the flat of his tongue through your glossy folds, cleaning up every drop of your essence as he pushed the tip of it inside your drooling hole. Hearing you moan and writhe for him instead of the pink bunny stuffy, and letting you ride his face the same way you’d just been riding the toy. He wished he could see the mess you’d left on it, whether you’d do the same to his face, his cock— 

Fuck. He had to calm himself down, he was going to be stuck in the meeting for at least another two hours. Trying his best to fix his dishevelled appearance before resuming his position in the room with the rest of the divine visionaries— hoping that none of them would be able to smell the scent of his spunk practically radiating off him as he tortured himself further by imagining you on your knees cleaning him up. 

Rayne must remember to ask Dot the next time he sees him if perhaps there might be any other rumours he knew about you—

[gingersnap-17]

Life After War (Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader)

Authors Note: Hi everyone! I am so sorry it has been such a long time! I recently got married, and me and my husband have been working full time, so I have not really had any time to write! But, my goal is to write at least one to two stories per week! I know I usually write JJK stuff, but today I am going to write a short story around the Attack on Titan world!

Summary: After the battle of Heaven and Earth, Levi has been having a hard time adjusting to life. But, thanks to Y/N, post war life has been easier.

Word Count: 1276

In the aftermath of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, the world had changed drastically. The titans were gone, and the remnants of humanity began to rebuild their lives in a world free from the fear that had oppressed them for so long. However, for Levi Ackerman, the struggle was far from over. The battle had left him with severe injuries, both visible and hidden deep within his soul.

Levi’s body was a testament to the brutality of war. His once agile and powerful frame was now marred with scars and stiffened by the lingering pain of his wounds. His right hand, a vital tool for his blade work, was damaged beyond repair. The bandages that covered his injuries were a constant reminder of his limitations, a bitter pill for someone who had always relied on his physical prowess. The stoic captain found himself in an unfamiliar place: vulnerable and dependent.

Levi spent most of his days in a small, modest apartment in a city that was untouched by the rumbling, far from the small island he once called home. The apartment was a gift from Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. A place where he could find solace and recover at his own pace. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Levi was restless. He felt caged by his injuries, haunted by the faces of those he had lost, and burdened by a future that seemed uncertain.

Luckily though, Levi still had you in his life. Out of all the friends and comrades he has had over the years, you were the one who managed to survive and stick by his side. The two of you had been in a romantic relationship only two months after the discovery of the Ocean and lands beyond Paridis. 

Despite the tranquil setting, Levi's restlessness was palpable. Each day, the battle replayed in his mind, a relentless loop of bloodshed and loss. The faces of fallen comrades haunted him, their sacrifices etched deeply into his memory. He often found himself staring at the bandages on his hand, a grim reminder of his altered reality.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, you entered the apartment. You had been out getting some groceries, hoping to lift Levi’s spirits with some of his favorite foods and of course his favorite tea. The moment you walked in, you could sense his unease. His eyes, though still sharp, held a distant look, as if he were lost in a world of his own making.

"Levi," you called softly, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. "I brought some tea. Thought it might help you relax."

He turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "You always know what I need."

You approached him, taking a seat beside him on the small sofa. "How are you feeling today?" you asked, gently placing your hand on his.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "It's...difficult," he admitted. "Being like this, unable to do the things I used to...it’s frustrating."

You only nod your head, standing up to prepare some tea for him. Over the years, you learned how to make tea to his liking. “I know how this has been hard on you, but you have my love and support, and the love and support of other people who care deeply for you.”

Levi watched as you prepared the tea, the familiar routine providing a small measure of comfort. He appreciated your unwavering support, though he struggled to express it in words. As you handed him the steaming cup, he took it gratefully, savoring the aroma.

"Thank you," he said again, this time with a bit more strength. "I don't say it enough, but I’m grateful for you every day."

You smiled warmly, giving him a kiss before sitting back down beside him. "And I'm grateful for you too. We'll find a way to move forward together. It has been hard and it has taken some time, but we are all figuring out this new life."

He only gave a quiet nod in response, which was something you had expected and grown quite used to over the years. The rest of the evening, the two of you sat together in the peace of your apartment, sharing positive memories of life before the war.

—————————————————————————

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Levi began to find solace in the small, simple pleasures of life. One day, while you were out for a walk together, Levi stopped in front of a quaint, abandoned shop. The building was worn and dusty, but it had a certain charm to it.

"This place," Levi said, looking at it with a contemplative expression. "It could be something...something good."

You held onto his arm to help support him as you followed his gaze, seeing the potential in the old shop. "What do you have in mind?" you asked, already having an idea of what he was thinking. This was something he would bring up quite often when you first started your relationship. 

"A tea shop," he replied. "A place where people can come and find a moment of peace. I’ve always found comfort in tea...maybe others will too."

You smiled, making a mental note to yourself that you just knew what he was going to say. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Levi. We can make it happen."

With determination set on making this space something new, the two of you set to work on transforming the old shop. It was a labor of love, one that brought you both closer together. Levi, despite his injuries, poured his heart into the project. You handled the heavy lifting and intricate tasks, while Levi directed and contributed with his keen eye for detail.

The shop slowly came to life, the walls adorned with simple, elegant decorations and shelves lined with a variety of teas. Levi's favorite blends were prominently displayed, along with some new ones you had discovered together. The space was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the changed world outside.

“In all honesty, I think this place is going to be pretty popular.” You said, putting some books on a bookshelf to give the tea shop more character.

Levi was currently organizing the stock of teas, agreeing to what you had said. “I only hope it does. We spent a lot of our money on this place.”

You smile, heading over to Levi as you gently rubbed his shoulders. “Trust me, everyone will love it here. Besides, this is the first tea shop in town, so I’d expect people to be drawn into our place.” You knelt down next to where Levi was, helping him get a proper stock of each blend. “….What if once a month we can do story time and have the children in this town come with their parents? You could read to them!”

Levi looked at you, giving an unamused look. “I don’t know about that. Kids just pick their nose and make things all dirty.”

You fondly roll your eyes, knowing that your stubborn lover will eventually come around to the idea. “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————

On the day of the grand opening, a small crowd gathered outside the shop. Among them were Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon, their faces beaming with pride and excitement. As Levi and you stood at the entrance, ready to welcome the first customers, he took your hand in his, a rare but cherished gesture of affection he made in public.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking into your eyes. "For believing in me, and for helping me find a new purpose."

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love and admiration. "Always, Levi. This is just the beginning."

The doors opened, and people began to fill the shop, their faces lighting up as they took in the serene atmosphere. Levi moved among them with a quiet grace, offering recommendations and sharing stories behind the different teas. You watched him, seeing the man you loved finding joy in bringing comfort to others.

The tea shop quickly became a beloved fixture in the community. It was a place where people could escape the chaos of the world and find a moment of peace. Levi's reputation as a skilled and compassionate host grew, and so did the bonds he formed with the people who visited.

As the sun set on the shop’s first day, you and Levi sat together, sipping tea and reflecting on the journey that had brought you here. The future still held uncertainties, but you faced them together.

In the aftermath of the battle, the world had indeed changed drastically. But amid the ruins, you and Levi had built something beautiful—something that honored the past while embracing the future. And in that small tea shop, you found a haven where love, resilience, and the simple pleasure of a well-brewed cup of tea could heal even the deepest wounds.

[samkerrworshipper]

Please could you do an imagine with Lucy bronze where the reader is also on the England team and gets injured during a game and Lucy is basically just being really cute and fluffy as well as a little protective 🥰

AHHH

I loved this request sm so here you go!

i feel like this could be followed up with a part 2 to expand on the reader and lucy’s relationship so lmk if you want to see that! also please feel free to keep sending in requests god knows i need inspo rn lol

A shoulder to cry on

Lucy Bronze x Reader

fluff, lil bit of angst, injury, graphic injury, pain, hurt/comfort, 3200 words

blurb: when lucy’s girlfriend goes down in a match how does she deal with it and how does lucy look react

I was too busy watching the ball flying towards goal to see the body flying at me. Too busy focusing on the Australian goalkeeper to acknowledge the knees slowly sliding under my own feet. Too busy focusing on getting my team a goal to give us a chance to stop myself from being floored by the Australian whirlwind, Ellie Carpenter. I went head first into the turf, my body flopping down onto the grass with my head dug into the dirt. My ears were ringing and I was a groaning mess. My whole body hurt and I couldn’t even muster the energy to turn over to access the damage that had been inflicted. All I could feel was gut wrenching pain, from my feet all the way to my hip.

When I was finally turned over I was met with the sight of Ellie and Steph Catley, two Australians that I didn’t want to see right now. I was a screaming, shaking, crying mess. Both women were very clearly taken aback by my emotion. The stadium was a ruckus, and as my teary eyes flashed up I saw my goal being replayed on the big screen, a goal. At least that was something, I’d done something to help us claw our way back. We were 100 days off from the World Cup start though, 100 days. Judging by the amount of pain I was in though that was nowhere near enough time.

As a professional athlete there is always the background fear that you are going to get injured. An overwhelming worry constantly in the back of your head that maybe this time it is going to be your last, maybe the next time you step on the field it might be the last time in a while. As you become a professional, as you start playing for your nation you learn to silence that part of your brain, you can’t afford to live in fear that you are going to get hurt. But watching teammates, friends, people you love get hurt, reinstalls that part of your brain, makes you wonder if maybe you are next, maybe next time it’ll be your turn. That fear though, it’s nothing in comparison to actually getting hurt, nothing in comparison to realising maybe this time it actually is your last.

That was all I could think about as the two Australian women tried to talk to me, tried to communicate with me. The first one of my teammates to rush over was Leah, who shoved both Australians away before crouching down beside me.

“Hey y/n, take a deep breath, the medics are about to get here, you don’t need to worry.”

Leah’s words were like a breath of fresh air, a break from the constant ringing in my ears.

“L-ucy, need Lucy.”

Leah nodded at me, smiling down at my face and nodding. Her hand made it’s way down to my face and wiped away the tears that were falling.

“She’s on her way angel, just stay patient for me, she’s making her way over, just take those deep breaths.”

“Hurts, hurts so fucking bad.”

Leah nodded at me, I watched her eyes creep down my body to my legs and that was how I knew it was bad, because not even Leah could avoid looking.

“I know, I know angel, I am so sorry that I can’t do anything about that. Just keep taking those deep breaths for me.”

I couldn’t help but continue to sob as I waited for someone, anyone to give me some kind of relief. All I could feel was pain and it was clear in Leah’s mannerisms that she didn’t really know how to help me, how was she supposed to help me?

“Y/n, listen to me, take a deep breath, I know you are in pain, the medics are getting here as fast as they can so you just need to take some deep breaths.”

It didn’t help that we were positioned on the opposite side of the field that the medics would be on and it was also a problem that if the umpire hadn’t blown her whistle they wouldn’t be allowed on.

“How bad is it?”

The words left my mouth in between sobs and breaths. Leah clearly didn’t know what to say, she clearly didn’t want to worry me any more but Leah wasn’t a good liar and she had a shit poker face.

“Don’t worry about that, keep your eyes on me. It’s just me and you, kiddo.”

Leah had taken me under her wing long ago, she treated me like her little sister.

I watched her eyes flash up in a panic and before I knew it she was jumping off of her feet and rushing off in the direction behind my head. I couldn’t help but turn my head to watch where she was going. I was still a little bit spaced out so it took me a few seconds to spot her out but once I did I found her rushing towards Ellie, who was sitting a few metres behind me. I couldn’t figure out why she was rushing over until I spotted Lucy approaching, running towards her, a look of absolute anger on her face. Leah was trying to get to her before Lucy inevitably got to Ellie. I watched it unfold as Lucy just made it to Ellie before Leah did, yanking her up by under her armpits.

I didn’t get to see much more, my head was pulled back to being flat on the turf by Millie and Sam Kerr, my ex-teammates from Chelsea.

“Hey y/n/n, the medics are just about to get here, it’s going to be alright.”

Millie’s tone of voice was similar to that of Leah’s, calm, patient, the voice of a captain.

“I need Lucy.”

Lucy was my other half. The love of my life, my everything. I wanted her, I wanted her to be there to hold my hand and to tell me that everything was going to be fine, even if it wasn’t.

“I know, Leah’s sorting her out, she’ll be here in a minute.”

Lucy was insanely protective over me, to a concerning degree. In the past year I’d made the decision to move to Barca, to be with her and it had been great but something I’d learnt from playing alongside her regularly was that she was a little bit too protective over the people she loved. A defender did so much as foul me on the pitch and she did everything in her power to seek some sort of revenge whether it was in the form of physically hurting them or doing anything in her power to get to them.

“I need her Mil, please.”

Millie nodded at me and then looked at Sam, I was in fucking shambles.

“I’ll go get her okay, feel better kid.”

Sam patted me gently on the shoulder before leaving just me and Millie. I was still lying on the pitch, fighting back more tears as I looked up into the sky and just prayed for this to all be over, for the pain to subside and for everything to just dissipate.

The medics were the next people to make it over to us, accompanied by Sarina and our trainer. The game had obviously been stopped for me so they seemed to be in a rush to get me off, with my goal we had a shot at winning now.

“Hi Ms y/l/n, how are you feeling?”

“In pain.”

My answer was flat and the medic let out an empty laugh at my reply.

“Okay, on a scale of 1-10 where would you put yourself at?”

“A 6.”

Sarina snorted at my reply, she knew that I had a high threshold for pain, I’d met her originally when I was playing as a rookie for Chelsea, she’d been the Netherlands coach at time and the coach for a professional team in the Netherlands which she’d tried to recruit me for but I’d turned her down. I’d never have guessed a few years later she would be coaching me on a National level.

“That means its a nine.”

I glared at Sarina, she knew me a little bit too well.

“Okay, this is a penthrox whistle, it should administer immediate pain relief, enough that we should be able to get you on the stretcher and off the pitch.”

I looked at Millie, then at Sarina, then at the Medic, immediately shaking my head.

“I’m walking off.”

All of their faces told me that I was missing something.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

In all of the chaos, all of the emergence, I hadn’t had the opportunity to even look at the source of my pain.

Before I could say anything more Lucy was crouching down beside my head and I couldn’t have been more grateful to see her. Her hand slid into mine and just her face, her smile, it was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t fighting a fucking battle.

“Luce, can you please tell them to let me walk off the pitch, just let me have that.”

I was fighting back tears and I could tell that Lucy was fighting an internal battle. Her eyes flashed down to my legs and then back to my face and just the split second gasp was enough to tell me that it was bad, really bad. Her hand fell to my face and that was how I knew it was not good and that was when I started sobbing again.

“How bad is it? Stop beating around the bush just tell me.”

All of the people above me looked between each other before the medic spoke,

“Your knee is dislocated, you’ve got some deep lacerations and stud marks in your shins and a piece of your tibia is sticking out of one of them. You are bleeding a lot, we need to get you off the field and to hospital, take the green whistle and we’ll get you off the field as soon as possible.”

Those words hurt, a lot, more than the injury itself. I nodded to the medic, I wasn’t walking off the field with that list of injuries, I was surprised I was still conscious with that comprise of injuries.

“Baby, just take the pain meds, you're in enough pain.”

Lucy’s voice, her convincing was probably the only thing that made me nod my head and let them pass me the inhaler. I got straight to inhaling it, and within the first ten or so inhalation I felt the pain relief start to kick in. It was good, it made me feel almost ten times better. Lucy was there the whole time, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as they medic attended to my legs and Sarina wrapped a blanket around my shivering upper half.

It was about five minutes before I was floating on a pain free drug induced cloud. When that happened they started to transfer me to the stretcher, with the help of Sarina, Lucy, Millie, Leah and the two medics. It was a touchy process, they were very clearly trying to keep the movement of my leg limited. The actual movement of getting me onto the stretcher had me screaming, pain relief or not it hurt insanely and I knew at that moment that my World Cup dreams were pretty much over. I cried the whole way to the ambulance. Lucy and my teammates had to desert me once I made it over to the sideline so they could finish off the game, eventually, along the way I passed out from the mixture of drugs and blood loss, something I was grateful for.

When I started to stir I had a headache but I felt warm. It took me a few seconds before I cracked my eyes, it was dark outside, my room was dark. But not so dark that I couldn’t make out everything around me, the lights from the hallway and machines giving me a steady source of light. The first thing that I saw was that a big percentage of the Lionesses were piled into the room, Georgia, Leah and Keira and piled onto a pull out sofa, Rachel, Millie and Mary sharing the spare cot beside me and a few of the other girls scattered in seats across the room. It was cute, looking at all of my teammates who were clearly gassed from the game but still here. Sarina and Lucy were slumped in the seats immediately to my side. Just as I let my eyes float over to Lucy her own blueish eyes tiredly connecting with my own. A tight lipped smile made its way to her mouth as she acknowledged me.

“Hey baby.”

Her voice was hushed, it was clear she was trying her hardest not to awaken any of our teammates. As she blinked away the sleep she slipped her glasses over her face, locking her eyes properly with me once the frames were slipped over her eyes. Her voice was enough to put more tears in my eyes, I was pretty sure I’d cried enough tears for about six people.

She stood up quietly, letting her hand fall to my face, gently rubbing a circle against my cheek. It was enough to have my lip trembling and my eyes darting across the room. Before I knew it I was a pleading staggering mess.

“Why me? Why now?”

Lucy’s facial expression just broke into a frown and I could feel her worrying from a few centimetres away from me. Before she said anything she pressed her lips to my forehead. I sobbed into her, not really worried about waking up any of our companions.

“I know sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

My breaths came out in hiccups and the hospital gown I was in clung to my body with the sweat that I was producing from working myself up.

“How bad is it, did we win?”

My words came out in pieces, it sounded like my Spanish, which was very rough and not very consistent.

“No, but don’t worry about that. They relocated your knee, you had to have surgery on your leg but it’s just a metal plate and some stitches for the lacerations from Carpenter’s boot.”

I honestly felt bad for the Australian defender, she’d had it bad enough with the press for the last while, let alone getting someone else’s blood all over their cleats.

“So my world cup dream is over.”

Lucy let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, it solidified the words in the room.

“Hey, not necessarily. The doctor said that the surgery went really well, that the fracture was pretty minor and that he expects a speedy recovery. You could be back running in 4-6 weeks.”

Even Lucy didn’t sound that optimistic, it was clear she was trying her hardest but she was struggling.

“My fitness will be shot, 4-6 weeks off the pitch pre world cup practically guarantees my spot gone, even if I’m running, in what world would Sarina take the chance of putting me on the pitch.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, it was hard to catch in the dim light but I managed to with my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I won’t have anyone putting my girl down, especially not you. You will be fine. I can’t promise you that you will make it back on the pitch, you will make it to Australia, if it’s the right fit. Maybe it won’t be, maybe that’s fate and I know that’s shit to accept, shit to get the short straw and I am so sorry that you are in that position. If I could switch with you I would. I would do anything for you and you know that, I’ll be here for you everyday, I will give up anything to make this easier for you, I can promise you that. I can promise that I’m here to be whatever you need. You need a shoulder to cry on? I’ve got two. You need someone to listen? I’ve got two working ears and great advice if you want it. You need someone to just be here for you? I will sit with you for as long as you need.”

Lucy’s words hit home for me. She had always been willing to do anything for me, she’d walk to the ends of the earth to do anything for me, she’d made that clear from when we’d first met. I’d been apprehensive from the beginning but she’d fought and fought until I’d given into her and when I had I’d fallen head over heels in love with the woman.

I moved myself over in the bed and patted down next to the space I’d left open beside me. Luc seemed apprehensive to begin with, her eyes darting between my leg and my eyes.

“Please, I just want my girlfriend to hug me, can I have that?”

Lucy bit her lip, she was clearly a little bit nervous about the idea but her slumped shoulders and tired eyes were enough to tell me that she was tired and just as needy as I was. Neither of us slept well without the other, on the rare occasion that we were separated we both struggled with the loss of contact.

“I’m not sure y/n/n, I don’t want to hurt your leg.”

She was so cute when she was nervous, her voice a nervous murmur. I put her worry to rest fairly quickly though, the pain meds were running through my veins and I was equally as tired.

“Luce, my bad leg is on the other side, I just need some contact, I need to feel loved and comfortable and this hospital bed is making that hard, so please, just hug your girlfriend.”

Lucy sighed and nodded at me, she couldn’t deny me, ever, I had her wrapped around my little finger.

“Alright, how about I slide behind you and you can rest against me?”

It took a little bit of push and shove and some wincing and pain on my side but eventually we got Lucy situated behind me, up against the pillows. I was resting comfortably against her chest and stomach, my head resting in her neck. It was everything I’d needed to make me feel a little bit better and once we’d both gotten settled I smiled up at her gratefully. She pressed her lips to my forehead, I swore that I could feel the compassion behind it but maybe that was the morphine speaking.

“I love you.”

She’d smiled down in that goofy way that she did when I gave her a compliment. Lucy was a goofball, it was one of the things that I loved about her. She was always laughing and making people around her laugh, she was just full of good energy and it made me a better person.

“I love you too, my love, always, get some rest. It’s all going to be okay.”

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 8

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Unprotected sex, oral (f.recieving), morning sex, mention of kink and size (I think it's that?), strong language, pet names, multiple orgasms.

Minors do not interact!!!

Bang Chan

The day I met Aria when my father introduced us to eachother a week before our wedding, some instinct told me she will be the death of me.

And I was right.

With those soft curls, brown eyes, that small beauty mark on her chin which was unwantedly attractive to my eyes, she is going to be why I'll lose every sense of control I've had of myself.

Every part of me wanted to have her last night, to make feel like she is the one and every part of her drove me crazy. Because my mind was tipsy, I wouldn't have been able to worship her the way she deserved. But one day, which isn't so far, I will have her.

It's obvious Aria desires me the same way I do, but fuck, my mind is never straight when I'm around her. Maybe Hyunjin was right. I should try talking to her sober. Instead of like a fucking alcoholic.

Never in the 26 years of my life was I ever attracted to woman the way I was attracted to Aria. She held something, a magnetic pull in her voice and in every single thing about her. A part of me wants to get lost in my world with her, forgetting about any deadline of us.

I woke up before an hour before sunrise, sitting in front of my laptop, I worked until I heard the birds chirping outside my window. Which I think was the first time I ever heard them since I moved into the mansion last year.

I usually either wake up late or don't sleep at all, depending on what I do the night before but ever since my father brought up about the marriage topic and I got married to Aria, my mind has been focusing a lot on work than anything I used to do when I was in Europe.

I was never a workaholic back then, not even when I first got the COO position, I don't know what fucking alien took over my body.

"Once you bring her home, you will understand that life is more than just partying Christopher"

My father's words replayed in my head again, echoing through the morning silence. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

My mind drifted back to the day of our wedding. Despite the conversation about the agreement the two of us had the night before, Aria's face was swelled with happiness on the wedding day, a smile I remember like it's a photographic memory. It's now that I'm realizing, that the smile was masking the uncertainty she must have felt.

Maybe this new focus. This relentless drive to work, was a distraction from her, my way of providing for her, of ensuring that our future was secure, well, at least for a year. But still, the change was startling.

Back in Europe, my nights were filled with laughter, music, and the constant thrill of the unknown. My friends used to joke that I would never settle down, that I was a free spirit, untethered and wild.

Yet here I was, grounded and, dare I say it, domesticated.

I looked up at my calendar on my phone, I didn't have any plans today neither was I in the mood to go to the office after finishing half of the work at home itself, I thought to check up on Aria and see if she had any plans. I quickly freshened up, ruffling my hair, I left my room and walked to hers at the other end of the corridor.

Once I reached the door to her room, hesitation crawled but like Bin said,

"If you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

I had lock my ego up in a cage and properly communicate with her.

As I was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing a cutely sleep-rumpled Aria, tousled but fixed hair and pillow crease on her face.

It looked like was expecting me to be at work, she instantly covered her chest, seeing the view in front of her.

She was wearing just a silk camisole and boyshorts, that gave me a view of too much of her flawless skin. The top did barely to cover those sweet, peeking nipples.

My jaw tightened at the sight at the same time sending an electrifying shock straight to my cock. Was she roaming the mansion like this when I was at work?! Almost half-naked while my staff was around?

"Chris, oh my— what are you doing here?" She stammered, her hand over her chest and eyes wide with surprise. They fell on my bare torso first and then met my face earning sly smirk from me.

"I...um. I just thought to— check up on you—"

Fuck.

The words kept coming out of my mouth before I could process them in my brain but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on her face.

Aria's eyebrows drew together, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." I replied quickly, cursing at myself that this was again, a bad idea.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you were supposed to be at work." Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Took the day off," I said rubbing the back of my neck and sliding my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"I just," I swallowed, "I wanted to see you" I finally admitted.

"Oh," She was unaware of what to say next and so was I. The moment seemed to stretch like an eternity and I fucking hated it.

"Alright then," I turned to walk downstairs but her soft hand held my wrist stopping me. "Chris wait," Her brown eyes locked with mine, steady breathing but I knew she still felt slightly intimidated by me.

For a moment the two of us stood still without a movement. The next, before either of us could say anything, I cupped her face and crushed my lips against hers.

Roughly. Possessively.

She pulled me inside her room, her fingers pressing on my arms then sliding up my neck, I kicked the door shut behind me, fisting her hair and not breaking the kiss as we fell onto her bed.

My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, I grunted, tilting her neck, demanding entrance, this time not letting any damn thing interrupt what I was going to do.

No contract. No deadline. Just her. Just us.

Her hands sank into my hair as my palm swept beneath her little silk top. We kissed like we needed eachother before the world ended.

Frantic. Hungry. Desperate. But I couldn't get enough. I needed more of this. More of her.

I broke the kiss as I trailed my path down her neck, sucking on her sweet skin, leaving my marks and making her mine. Only mine. I didn't give a fuck about anything else at this moment other than her.

"Chris..." The sound of my name as she whimpered when I cupped her breast beneath the top sent another jolt of electricity straight down to my cock, it throbbed behind the barriers of my shorts.

"That's it sweetheart. After today my name shall be the only thing you remember" I said as I slid her top off and shorts down with little effort, leaving her completely naked and bare beneath me, it was the sight of a lifetime.

Flawless skin, breasts the right size to knead and suck on, perfect little waist, I eyed her body capturing every single detail like a wanderer discovering a hidden paradise.

I leaned low and kept my mouth around her nipple, sucking the sensitive tip and rolled the other with my index and thumb, earning another whimper of my name.

"You're such a good girl"

Neck. Arms. Breasts. Every part of her had a pleasing marks of hickeys, I was eager to map every inch of her heavenly body with my hands and my mouth as I made my way down kissing the valley of her stomach to her pubic bone.

Her soft skin was hot as she trembled when I got closer to her pussy, the scent of her arousal and the glazed sight in front of me felt like snorting a line of pure cocaine. I softly placed a kitten kiss on the awaiting clit, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I stroked her thighs.

"Chris, God Chris, please"

"Please what sweetheart?" I taunted.

"Are you that excited to have my mouth on your sweet cunt and eat you out?" I cooed. She looked up at me and her head fell back on the pillow when I licked her slit.

"Tell me babydoll"

Aria's breathing increased as her hand fisted my hair so hard, the tiny ache just turned me on more.

"Yes," The word left her mouth in a plea mixed with a demand. "Please Chris"

The next second my face was buried in the wet heat between her legs.

Her back arched instantly as her juices coated my tongue, I delved on her clit like a man starving to death. Sucking and devouring her cries of pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Where I thought her presence drove me insane along with whiskey that had me tipsy, Aria's moans and her taste down here were fucking intoxicating. My cock twitched, matching the rhythm of my pulse, begging for me to dive into her.

Aria bucked her hips, pleading to stop, but her body begged to keep going, moan after moan escaping from her throat. Slow licks and flicks, I focused on her dripping cunt, a twelve course meal I'd enjoy for the rest of my life.

"No...please...I...more..." Aria pleaded and begged, coating my face by every passing second. I wanted all of this inked on my brain.

Her back arched as I continued to feast on her sweet little pussy. I sucked on her clit and pushed a finger stretching her lips, then another, pumping in and out, her knuckles turned white as she grabbed on to the sheets for dear life.

Forget coffee, water or a great buffet for breakfast, she tasted so much fucking better.

I groaned, sweat beading my forehead as I pulled my fingers out and I rested her legs on my shoulders, fiercly holding on her thighs, letting my tongue thrust inside of her. The taste of her made me want to do nothing but stay here and let this morning last forever.

My nose kept nudging on her clit as I ruthlessly tongue fucked her, eating her out, that tore sharp cry after cry. After feasting on her cunt, Aria came down shuddering, her orgasm flooding my senses and my face as I was sent to the ends of insanity.

"Want me to stop sweetheart?" I towered her, wiping my chin with back of hand, her taste still lingering on my tongue. I placed my hand next to her on the pillow holding me up, the other hand pinched her nipple and then went down circling that swollen nub.

I knew she wanted more. But I loved hearing it. Making her beg.

Aria shook her head whimpering, her face was tinted pink as her cheeks were flushed with arousal, my mind clouded with lust. My cock was so hard it threatened to pierce through my shorts.

"You have to tell me babydoll."

"Don't stop Chris, please"

Nothing turns me on more than the sound her sweet voice pleading me. I freed myself from the fabrics of my shorts and boxers, they joined her clothes on the floor. Her chest was still heaving from the aftermath of her first orgasm. Oh baby she's going to come more than once.

"You will come for me again okay?" My voice remained rough even though I tried to soften, I traced her pussy with the pad of my thumb and sank two fingers again to find her still soaking.

So wet. So fucking gorgeous.

Her eyes fell on my coated fingers as I pulled them out and licked the glistening pleasure, then at my cock jutting out, long and painfully hard, when she slowly got from up her high.

I leaned down to her ear, "I'm going to make you feel really good baby"

I spread her legs further apart and positioned myself in between, grazing the tip in the inner thigh and the folds of her opening, teasing her a bit more.

"Christopher,"

Never has my name sounded this good when someone said it. I felt a different sense of pride and possessiveness when it came out of her mouth. In that voice.

The tip was still slowly grazing her opening, she was so wet, it kept slipping. I was testing my own patience along with hers, without another thought I gripped her waist, Aria's head fell back on the pillows the second I thrusted through her wet entrance smoothly.

Her legs instantly wrapped around my hips locking me into place, it was now I knew I have found my heaven on earth.

"Too— big...ah" I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she moaned and commented about my size.

"But you take it so well baby" I teased.

A muffled moan.

I stayed in place for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my length and slowly pulled out and then slammed back in.

Starting slowly and easy first, then I picked up a hard and fast pace, pounding into her, each thrust making her breasts bounce. Sweat slicked her body, her eyes and mouth were half shut as she kept moaning, it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Christ. I've never had a kink for breasts but her tits alone were enough to drive me mad. And this sweet tight little pussy that took in my cock like she was fucking made for it.

Nails grooved scars on my back and my arms, the piercing sting felt good more than pain. She was so tight, her walls clenched nicely around my cock, it drove me out of my mind.

I slowly leaned to her face and kissed away the tears that had run down her cheeks, Aria slowly peeled her eyes open as she looked at me, they were fogged with intense pleasure and unshed tears glittering like a sparkling galaxy.

She looked at me in a way no one ever has, it fucking hurt like a punch to the soul, leaving me breathless and reeling. My mouth crashed onto hers desperately, a tidal wave possessiveness washing over me frantically.

"Mmm" She hummed into my mouth, I chuckled swiping a strand of hair from her face.

"What do you want sweetheart?"

"More— more" And that undid me.

Her pussy squeezed my cock as I fucked her harder and faster, watching her back arch and bouncing breasts, the dirtiest symphonies of moans filling the room. Seeing her take in my cock this gorgeously was a sight I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.

"Fuck...Aria..." I hissed, her walls pulsated, I was at the edge and if I didn't release I would literally explode right here.

She looked so fucking gorgeous beneath me, I could have believed she was unreal.

No part of my skin goes untouched and no part of hers goes unfucked. I held her pretty waist beneath my palms, picking my pace, sucking on her sweet nipples, her moans and whimpers and cries sounded MUCH better than the melodic sounds from the strings of my guitar.

"Chris, I— I..." Aria moaned.

"You will sweetheart"

Molten lava dripped down my spine as I hit her G spot, her back arched, giving me the once again perfect view of her beautiful chest.

"Come," Before the word fully left my mouth she came all over my cock in a harmonious cry, flooding my cock with her juices.

I let her settle for a few seconds but then kept fucking her until another orgasm chased the first, and another, she shattered apart falling into a glorious limp of a mess and in that moment I was grateful to be alive.

After what was her fourth time coming, a few seconds later I came inside of her in a powerful orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption, thunder roaring in my chest.

Never had sex felt so good like this.

There was sweet love making and rough hard fucking and definitely many more. But this? This felt like it was a route to find peace and but at the same time, a route to insanity.

I slowly pulled myself out, in taking the sight of her wrecked wet pussy and kissed her inner thigh making my way upto her face and fell next to her. The both of us starting the day in a very Good Morning.

"Goodness Chris I...," I chuckled at her breathless response and turned to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into my chest in a tight embrace.

I had surely pushed her beyond her limits after making her come so much, I held her tight, wrapping her with my warmth.

I've had my time back in Europe with other women, but I cuddles after sex wasn't my thing. It was way too intimate and I couldn't get myself lost in that. And I had my rules when fucking.

Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't expect aftercare or whatever. Simple.

But Aria. Damn it. She is the reason why the icy barriers I built around my heart is threatening to crack.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" I asked, her lips met the soft skin on my neck causing me to inhale a deep breath.

"Amazing" Her eyes closed, my hand glided up from her ass to her waist, my grip tightening.

"Is this why you took your day off?" She asked mischievously, I let out a deep chuckle, my grin widening.

"Maybe. Since I'm always having trouble getting you," I pulled her, her chest pressed against my chest, "I had enough of it"

"I see. Well, I didn't know Bang Christopher Chan desired so much"

"You don't know how crazy you drive me" I said pressing my mouth on hers hard and demanding. She melted against me as I kissed her, never getting tired of her taste.

We remained in each other's embrace for a while before I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9am, I slowly removed my arm from under her neck and sat up on the bed, the sheets rumpled around my waist.

She got up as well, an expression painting across her face, worrying if I might leave after having my time. Honestly I did want to leave now that I fucked her but somehow something made me stay with her.

I leaned in and smiled at her, kissing the corner of her lips.

"You've plans for today?" I don't know why, but I wanted to spend some time with her, my friends' advices still replayed in my head every now and then. She shook her head, looking at me, curiosity filled in her eyes.

"Good. I have a nice spot we can go to"

I'm definitely getting myself locked in a complicated cage, mixing sex when we have an expiration date.

But when time comes, I'll deal with it then.

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

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

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[delicatebarness]

but daddy i love him | chapter one

Summary: Your father begins to worry about your connection to Bucky, again under your twin's influence.

Warnings: This story contains themes of secrecy, forbidden romance, and familiar conflict. High School/Mob AU. - Also, a lot of what happens in this series will be done while the characters are underage, for example, alcohol and drug consumption.

Word Count: 1508

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A/N: I thought it was fitting that he still called her Sunshine. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

I Think He Knows/Safe and Sound: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 | @spider-mans-hoe | @buckys0whore | @wintrsoldrluvr | @mostlymarvelgirl | @abaker74 | @scott-loki-barnes | @buckys0whore | @all-will-be-well-love | @cjand10 | @barnesxstan | @danzer8705

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

The marble floors of your family’s estate were cold against your feet as you made your way to your father’s office. The grandeur of the house, with the high ceilings and opulent decor, made it feel more like a fortress than a home, a constant heavy air of unease. 

As you stood before the massive oak door, you knocked softly before stepping inside. Sat behind his large mahogany desk, the weight of your father’s presence filled the room. His sharp eyes met yours, and he motioned for you to sit. 

“Morning, Daddy,” you greeted, forcing a sweet smile as you settled into the chair opposite him.

“Morning, Princess,” he replied, his voice gruff but affectionate. “I need to talk to you about some… concerns, Peter has come to me about.” 

Tilting your head, you feigned innocence. “Concerns? About what, Daddy?” 

“About you and James Barnes.” He leaned forward, his gaze penetrating. “He is convinced something is going on between you two.” 

Letting out a light laugh, you shook your head. “Petey is always so suspicious. Bucky is like another brother to me, you know that.” 

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He said he has been watching you two closely, says he’s seen things that make him think otherwise.” 

Leaning in, you played the sweet and innocent ‘daddy’s girl’ card. Battling your lashes slightly. “Daddy, you said no boys, so there are no boys. And, I’ve always done what you asked. Bucky’s just Steve’s friend, and someone who looks out for me because Steve asked him to. That’s all.” 

He wasn’t entirely convinced, however, his gaze softened nonetheless. “I need to be sure, Princess. Peter’s convinced there’s more to it.” 

Reaching across the desk, you placed your hand over him. “You’ve always trusted me, haven’t you? I’d never do anything to break that trust. You know how Peter is, Daddy, he just likes to stir up trouble.” 

The tension eased from his shoulder as he sighed. “I know. It’s just… I worry about you. This world isn’t kind, men aren’t kind, and I want to keep you safe.” 

“I know, Daddy,” you softly sighed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “And I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about with Bucky.” 

Finally relenting, he nodded. “Alright. But, be careful. If I find out otherwise…” 

“You won’t,” you assured him with a bright smile. “I love you, Daddy.” 

“I love you too, Princess,” he said, his tone tender. “Now, go on. I don’t pay for that school just for you to be late.” 

Relieved, you left his office. Your heart raced as you made your way toward the front door. The encounter had been too close for comfort.

~

Back at school, the usual hum of student chatter filled the air as you navigated the hallways. Classes came and went by in a blur, your mind replayed the tense conversation with your father. The warning was clear: you needed to be more careful than ever.

You and Bucky managed to find a moment alone as lunch approached. The abandoned art room was your sanctuary during school hours, a place where Peter and his suspicions couldn’t find you. The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open, and Bucky slipped in behind you, locking it with a soft click.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you as his lips met yours in a desperate kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pressed against him, the intensity of the moment erasing all thoughts of caution. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable.

The kiss grew more heated as he lay you down against one of the desks, his lips trailing down your neck, making your heart race. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel him closer, the urgency between you both palpable. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk, and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in.

Your breaths mingled, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of clothes. You could feel his heart pounding as hard as yours, the need and desire between you both electric. His hand slid under your blouse, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Just as you were about to lose yourself completely in the moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. You both froze, reality crashing back in. With a reluctant sigh, Bucky pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s so hard to stay away from you,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightened around you for a moment before he let go, helping you off the desk. “Tonight is going to be difficult.” 

You both straightened your clothes. The air thickened with unspoken longing and the weight of the evening’s challenges. The charity gala, organized by your father, was an annual event attended by New York’s elite. Every year since you and Bucky started, it felt like a daunting obstacle course.

Your gaze never left his as he adjusted his tie with a sigh. “I know,” you murmured, your voice laced with frustration. “But we can’t avoid it. My father’s gala is not something we can skip.” 

He nodded, and you tried to steady your racing heart. “We’ll have to be extra careful,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. He reached out, brushing his thumb just under your lip, fixing your messy lipstick. “I’ll keep my distance, no slipping up tonight.” 

You watched his jaw tense, his gaze flickering toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “At least… until we can find a moment alone.” 

~

As you descended the sweeping staircase, the soft glow of chandeliers reflected off your gown. The delicate fabric trailed behind you like a waterfall of midnight blue silk, it whispered against the marble flooring. Voices and laughter filled the ballroom as you entered. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the symphony of polite greetings, the tinkling of glasses, and the soft music from the orchestra. 

Your gaze swept around the room, searching for Bucky amidst the sea of familiar faces. Standing near the bar, you found him, flanked by a few of your father’s associates. His posture was relaxed, a composed expression and drink in hand.

“Looking stunning tonight, Sunshine,” Bucky remarked quietly as you approached, his eyes flashed with admiration before he sipped his drink, masking his emotions with practiced ease. 

“Thank you,” you replied with a smirk, a rush of warmth coursing through you as he averted his gaze. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.” 

Bucky chuckled, glancing over at Steve and Peter who were engrossed in conversation with another guest. “Trying to blend in,” he murmured, shifting on his feet as you called over the bartender. “It’s tricky when your father’s watching.” 

You nodded knowingly, familial expectations loomed over moments like these. “Peter’s in his head, again,” you sighed, scanning the room discreetly as the bartender placed your drink down. “We’ll find a moment, though.” As you took a sip of your drink, you sent Bucky a wink as you began walking away, mingling with the other guests. 

~

Later in the evening, the music from the orchestra swelled and the dance floor filled with couples, you stood alone near the edge of the room, nursing a drink. Bucky approached, his steps purposeful yet discreet. 

“I spoke to your father,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I asked if I could have the honor of a dance with you.”

Your heart skipping a beat at his words. “And… what did he say?”

A small, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “He agreed, but… only for one song, and he’s keeping an eye on us.” 

Glancing across the room, a smile spread across your lips as you spotted your father watching from a distance. His gaze was stern and protective. “Of course he is,” you murmured, amusement and exasperation in your tone. 

Bucky extended his hand towards you. “May I have our annual, one song, Sunshine?” he asked, genuine warmth filling his voice.

You nodded, placing your hand in his, a spark of electricity coursing through you from the contact. He led you onto the dance floor.

As you swayed to the music, Bucky’s hand lay firmly on your waist. Despite the watchful eyes of your father, brothers, and the guests, the connect between you two was undeniable. 

“You’re breathtaking,” You whispered, your grip tightening on his shoulders. “It’s touture having to pretend we’re just friends.” 

“I know,” he whispered back, his lips close to your ear. “One day we won’t need to.” he promised softly. 

The dance ended too soon, and as you pulled away, your father’s gaze burned into you. Bucky gave your hand a final, lingering squeeze before letting go. With that, you returned to the swirl of social interactions. Your heart raced knowing that despite the obstacles, your bond was unbreakable.

---

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[captainwans]

LAST TRAIN TO LONDON.

pairing: professor!alex turner x student!fem!oc

word count: 6.5k words

━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄. | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑮.

summary: nina collett is many things. she’s a devoted mother, a loyal friend, a daughter, and a dedicated student. each aspect of her life has challenges and its sacrifices and she is forced to confront these, demanding her constant attention. amidst the whirlwind of responsibilities and emotions, she finds her professor becoming more involved in her life than she expected, adding another layer of turbulence to her already chaotic life. balancing the fine line between professional boundaries and personal feelings was more difficult than she anticipated, all while she was trying to keep her life from unraveling.

warning: this series contains mature scenes, sexual references, character death, vulgar language, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, age gap (student in her twenties), an excruciating slow-burn (now i’m being dramatic, but you get the picture), other triggering topics, and all the feels (—i’m talking about sweet-teeth rotting fluff that makes you want to evaporate. or soul wrenching angst that feels like a punch in the gut). if any of themes, opinions or content upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, feel free to message me, or simply, do not read it.

𝓝ina fiddled with her lighter, soft curses emitting from her lips when it didn’t ignite. She cupped her cigarette with one hand, and the corner of her eyes crinkled as she tried to assault her lighter to catch any sparks of fire. After a few tries, a small but weak fire ignited, and she didn’t hesitate to place the cigarette close to the lighter. She placed the stick to her lips, cheeks hollowed before puffing out the smoke. She let out a content sigh, the cigarette resting between her fingers as she let her back hit the platform. 

Nina stared through space, her mind working overtime as she waited for her last train home. Exhaustion engulfed her body like a blanket and she had to close her eyes for a second, her lips turning into a tired sneer as a yawn escaped from her mouth. She had spent the weekend with her closest friends and family, celebrating her best friend for who had just become a new mother. Her lips curled into a smile, the idea of Breana being a mother sent a fluttering warmness into her chest. But that warmness soon manifested into a heavy feeling, more toward herself at her role of being a mother—which she knew Breana would do a hell of a lot job better than her. 

It wasn’t that she was a bad mother—-no, far from it. Her daughter means the world to her and she loves her one-year-old with every fiber of her being. Mathilda was the center of her universe. Every decision, every choice, and every sacrifice had been made for her and it would continue to be so. Yet, as she was watching Breana’s newborn cuddled in his father’s arms, a prickling pain stirred inside her chest. It was a painful reminder that she could never give Mathilda the chance to meet her father.

The tragic fate of her fiancé, Josh, along with carrying a child left a scar deeper than she imagined. Guilt and shame stirred within her, filling every crevice of her brain and shaking her to the core. She often found herself replaying the moment she learned of his death, each replay worsening her misery. It was a memory filled by the harsh words of her mother-in-law, who had called her stupid and an embarrassment. Josh had died in a car accident during a heavy storm, an accident Nina blamed on herself because she had asked him to run some errands that day. It’s your fault. He is dead because of you. Her voice echoed inside her mind, leaching her sense of self. Suddenly, the idea of being a mother with dreams and ambitions felt too far out of reach. It didn’t seem so appealing anymore. She felt hollow, overwhelmed, and scared by the thought of raising a child on her own and finishing her studies seemed like an impossible task.

In the midst of the storm, Nina refused to give up. She kept thinking of Josh and she knew he would never want this for her. Being shunned by her in-laws gave her the chance to focus on what truly mattered—her own family. She didn’t have the best relationship with her parents growing up, but when Mathilda was born, everything changed. Suddenly, there were daily calls, frequent visits, and a lot more affection than she was used to. It felt strange at first, but she slowly got used to it, realizing that she wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was her chance to heal old wounds and finally make things right. 

Mathilda was her own little sunshine—a bright and joyful child who filled the house with laughter, giggles, and warmth. It was something Nina hadn’t known that she needed so much. By looking into those big, innocent eyes, she knew she was going to be okay and that Josh would always be with her, living through Mathilda. Being a mother was the hardest task in her life, but it was also the best task she could ever ask for.

“This is the last train to London. No other trains are leaving for London today.” A male announcer’s monotonic tone pulled her out of her melancholy, making her sigh before throwing her lifeless cigarette on the ground. She stomped on the stick with her heel, hands tightening her bag that was securely wrapped around her shoulder. She stood in line among many others, eyes darting around her. Her hazel eyes found a child, whose doe-eyes were boring into hers as she sat on her mother’s shoulders. 

Nina felt her heart swell, the way the child’s eyes glowered from the lights above, reminding her of her sweet baby girl who was waiting for her to come home. The little girl on her mother’s shoulder brought her little hands up to wave, which she gladly did the same as her lips curved into a sweet smile. She watched a big toothy grin etch onto the baby’s face, lips emitting small giggles. The mother looked up, moving her gaze to where her daughter was looking at. The woman politely smiled toward the female, her head nodding in greeting as she gripped her child’s hands. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, bub?” 

Nina’s heart fluttered, eyes softening at the little girl shyly nodding her head. She hummed, smiling at the woman. She turned her head back to her daughter, a wide smile reaching her features. “And aren’t you the cutest thing ever?” she cooed, fingers tickling her side earning a happy beam. Some turned their heads to the interaction, smiles forming their tired faces, and others who stood in line impatiently and just wanted to hop on the train.

Nina stepped onto the train, her heels loudly clanking against the hard metal ground causing a few heads to turn her way. She felt heat wash over her, blood rushing through her ears at the unwanted attention as she squeezed herself into the cramped space of passengers trying to blend in. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed with discomfort as she swarmed into the heavy mass of bodies occupying the exit area. 

She bit her lip, stifling back a groan, feeling someone’s heel stepping on her toes. She clenched her jaw, her narrowed eyes darting across the packed ambiance as she looked for empty seats or even a place to stand. Much to her dismay, it was none as it was inhabited by many other frustrated passengers. She fixed the strap of her bag and clutched it tightly against her body, eyes still searching. But as she was looking her eyes locked with none other than her professor, whose eyes were hesitant, but soft as he gave her a polite smile in greeting.

Her heart leaped out of her chest, feeling a dust of crimson dancing across her cheeks. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, returning his smile with an uncertain simper, mostly to herself as she was contemplating whether or not he was smiling at her or someone else. “Excuse me, ma’am.” 

A rough voice startled her out of her state, head snapping toward a man who was standing beside her, looking rather impatient. She sheepishly apologized, realizing where she was standing, and moved to the side. She blew her cheek out with a heavy breath as her feet led her toward the other side of the train, hand gripping the metal pole tightly.

Her mind started wandering back to him, who was standing a few feet away from her. She could only see his face as his figure was covered by commuters standing in the middle of the train. She wondered what he was wearing since she was used to his formal attire—suit pants, black striped shirt, sometimes a plain white shirt and if you took a closer look you could see a small silver chain wrapped delicately around his neck. A warm feeling settled into her stomach and she cringed for feeling this way about her own professor. It wasn’t like she was in love with him like any other student was, but she couldn’t help but immerse in the idea of seeing him under different circumstances.  

There wasn't that much of an age gap between them and by the looks of it, he looked fairly young compared to other professors and employees in the university. The subject of age seemed to be the most appealing amongst the students, especially for the female students who gave him heart eyes whenever he entered the lecture room. Most of his lectures included cheeky and flirty remarks from the girls in the front row, desperate to grasp his attention. Nina was quite the opposite, well—Mr. Turner was definitely appealing to her eyes, but due to her shame and bashful nature, she prefers to keep her fantasies and opinions to herself. She has for certain thought about him rearranging her insides in the classroom once or twice, but you didn’t hear that from her. 

Besides her infatuation, she finds him incredibly intelligent and a good lecturer. Mr. Turner is quite the talker, which is not surprising with the way the girls are piling up his feet, but that part seems to be irrelevant to him. And she liked that about him—he’s only here to do his job, nothing more. She usually sits in the front row, but distances herself from the annoyingly loud girls who wanted nothing more than to sleep with him. 

     “Mr. Turner, what are your plans this weekend?” A student interrupted the professor mid-sentence, earning his attention as his eyes averted away from the projector, toward the young female who leaned closer against the table with a flirtatious smile. 

     The lecturer held his breath, lips pressed into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Nothing that concerns you,” he replied with a tip-lipped smile, brushing off her flirtatious nature as he placed his hands on his hips before clearing his throat. “As I was saying….” he continued with his lecture, ignoring the hushed whispers coming from the girls in the front row. 

     This went back and forth and Nina fought the urge to roll her eyes at one of them as she scribbled down a few words in her notebook. She bit her lip in concentration, eyebrows creasing her forehead whilst trying to pay attention to what he was saying among the loud whispers that were filling every crevice of her brain. She tsked, face morphing into a scowl as she shared a look with her friend, who was sitting beside her just as annoyed.

     Her irritation, along with the rest of the class, seemed to catch his attention, the character in her eyes mirroring his as he noticed her look of discomfort. He paused, causing the room to be quiet too. The hushed whispers and murmurs seemed to cease, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. 

     Mr. Turner stepped closer to his audience, eyes darting across the room as he studied the state of his students. He licked his lips before speaking, hand gripping his projector controller. “Raise your hand if you’re deeply disturbed by the people from the front seat.” he simply told his students with his hand raised, voice calm and stoic. 

     Nina wanted to laugh at how the girls’ expressions changed, looking behind them to see that everyone raised their hand in the air, including her as they voiced their shared complaints. She quietly snickered, covering a hand over her mouth, earning his attention. She saw a glint in his eyes before he moved his head toward his class. “If you’re here for the sake of learning, you’re seated. If there are other reasons, you may leave,” he ordered, sauntering backward.

     His arm was stretched, the controller in his hand marking a red dot pointed toward the door. “The door is right behind me,” he said once again, a small smile reaching his face as he watched the spectacle in front of him. The seats were rearranged as half of the class started leaving, making some students who were seated cheer in delight, making her stifle back a grin. 

     She slumped back into her seat, deeply exhaling as she mumbled incoherent things under her breath. “Thank God,” she sighed, earning a response from her friend. She fixed her posture, hands running over her notes to see where she left off. 

     She watched Mr. Turner’s lips curve upwards, watching them leave the lecture room before moving his head back to his remaining students. She watched his eyes trailing over the front row, and she almost jumped when he locked eyes with her. He gave her a smile and she didn’t know if she was delusional, but she swore she saw him winking at her.

A harsh collision between her and another passenger brought her out of her daydream, feeling their body trapping her against the window. She let out a raspy gasp, the burning ache on her side clawing its way to her throat. She quietly hissed, face forming into a scorn as she brought a hand to her right side. “Fuck,” she murmured, rubbing the area which she knew was going to be a nasty bruise.

Nina’s ears burned with their profuse apologies, and she had to swallow back a shady remark that would probably kick her out of the train. She gritted her teeth in pain, jaw so tightly clutched that she could only nod her head, sending a sharp smile their way before moving her gaze forward. Much to her luck, her eyes found his once again—this time clouding with genuine concern. 

Blood rushed through her face, feeling herself getting hot as her thoughts spiraled out of control. The thought of him watching her getting slammed into the window was enough for her to cringe internally. She looked away for a second, and looked back at him before glancing beside her, unsure eyes looking for another suitable person that he sent his concerns to. She cursed inside her mind, clenching her jaw before looking back at him with a finger pointed at herself. 

Mr. Turner’s lips curved upwards, eyes tinted with amusement as he nodded his head. He watched her mouth turn into an “o”, realization forming her features as she gave him a polite yet bashful smile before nodding. He saw her quickly moving her head, eyes looking elsewhere while being squeezed between two passengers. He felt her discomfort and he wanted to reach out to her and have him close to his side, but he knew that was too far out of his reach. 

The professor’s mind was a hurricane. It was violently raging, swirling, and spinning that it was hard to tell where it was all leading. He looked away, gaze moving away from her toward the hard ground with a puzzled expression. A heavy feeling tugged at his chest. It was like something or someone was sitting on his ribs, crushing till he couldn’t breathe. His eyebrows creased his forehead and he brought his hand up to his chest, clutching his shirt into a fist as if he was trying to remove the shame that was latched into his heart. 

Alex knew it was wrong—very wrong. He had overstepped his boundaries, and he was fighting for his life to keep it professional. He exhaled with a heavy breath, chest heaving as he tried to shake the image of her from his mind. But it was no use; from the moment he saw her in his first lecture, he knew he was doomed. Those hazel eyes, so intently focused on him, seemed to see right through him. The way she listened so intently, with genuine interest and engagement, made him feel a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. It was as if her presence alone made him feel seen and valued.

Nina was top of his class, exceeding in every topic psychology had to offer. Her grasp of the subject was remarkable and her passion left him sometimes dumbfounded with her captivating insights and perspectives. She definitely left a profound impression on everyone around her—including him. Although she was reserved and quiet during most of his lectures, she had other ways to stand out as the shining star of his class. She was often seated at the front, nose buried in her notebook as she was scribbling down every word that came out of his mouth. She had ‘I’m smart and intelligent’ tattooed on her forehead, and he wasn’t all surprised when some of her classmates desperately volunteered to be in the same discussion group as her. He didn’t want to be the professor who had favorite students, but she was an exception.

     Nina walked forward with a stoic expression, eyes looking anywhere as she got lost in her inner world as she was on her way to her next lecture. She had her books close to her chest, arms crossed like two swords along with her tote bag tightly strapped to her shoulder. Her Chelsea boots skimmed smoothly down the marble floor, fastening their pace as she noticed the hallway slowly turning into traffic. 

     She grimaced, looking at the many students engulfed around the ambiance, just like her, trying to get to their class. Her stomach turned into knots, thoughts wandering over to her professor’s nagging and whining over her lateness. Her professor was a woman in her late 40s, mostly very sweet, but she was very picky and strict over time and punctuality. She could already hear her voice at the back of her head, and she was so immersed in the thought of Mrs. Williams that she didn’t notice someone walk her way. 

     Before her brain could register the sound of her books dropping, along with her glasses, her body collided with a hard chest. She lost balance and fell backward, her body dropping down the hard marble floor with a thud. Her lips emitted a small whimper, eyes squinting as her hands looked for her glasses amidst a busy crowd filled with students. “Shit,” she mumbled, a cloud entering her vision and she felt a burning ache on her right wrist.

     “I am terribly sorry. Here let me help,” she heard a deep–yet soft voice fill inside her eardrums, causing her to look up. She scorned, blinking a few times as she looked in front of her with her blurry vision. Her hand took hold of her glasses and she put them on, seeing the world clearly. 

     She noticed that her book was no longer on the floor and she instinctively looked up, gazing up to see Alex’s apologetic expression while he held his hand for her to help her on her feet. Crimson danced across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart as she slowly took his hand. 

     Nina gently brushed him off, voice soft as he hoisted her up to her feet. “N-No, please. I was in my own bubble and didn’t notice you walking towards me.” she sheepishly apologized with a shy smile as she felt him squeeze her hand before letting go, and she hated that he let go. 

     Alex chuckled, “I guess we’re both a little out of it today, huh?” he jested as the pair moved to the side, sauntering away from the busy crowd toward the end of the stairs. Nina held onto the stair rail, eyes looking at the people passing through the big hall. She locked eyes with her friend, standing beside the vending machine, who was looking at her with a knowing look. She gave her a glare at her giving her thumbs up, feeling heat creep upon her face before she moved her attention elsewhere. 

     “Your hand?” His voice pulled her attention toward him, watching his frown deepen as he watched her bruised wrist from the fall. She watched him hesitate for a second, fingers rubbing together before grabbing the hold of her wrist. The warmth from her face made it ten times worse, feeling the blood rush through her ears as she listened to her beating heart. 

     Guilt prickled his chest, lips screwed up as he gently rubbed the bruise. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in a faint apology, rough fingers moving in a circle pattern as if the bruise would go away. He bit his lower lip, fingers halting his gesture before he finally let go of her hand. He looked at her, a small smile reaching his face as he felt a war inside his mind. He cursed inside his head, feeling like he crossed a line between being professional and overstepping boundaries.  

     Nina didn’t seem to mind. She watched him, heart stuttering against her chest at his touch. Her jaw slacked, and she saw him moving his head, eyes looking at her. She realized that she hadn’t said anything and she blinked before clearing her throat, bashfully smiling. “Oh, it’s fine, really.” she brushed him off, ignoring the throbbing pain on her wrist. She let out a small chuckle. “It’s not the first time I’ve hurt myself going down this hallway. The amount of times I’ve tripped and fallen is pretty concerning.” she tried to lighten up, ceasing some of the guilt that was reaching his eyes. 

     Alex’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle, lips curving upwards at her simper. He let his body lean against the stair rail, gaze averting away from her toward the busy hall. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s like watching the Hunger Games or something. I don’t get why they’re all in a rush, though.” he said, lips pressed into a thin line. 

     Nina bit her lip, eyes darting across his handsome features. She looked back at the hall, shrugging with a grin, eyes tinted with playfulness. “Could be a race against who would get to your class first. You see those girls?” she said, pointing a finger at them. “Yeah, definitely in a hurry to sit in the front seat.” she joked, lips emitting a small giggle before turning her head to him.

    Alex grimaced, shaking his head with a laugh. “Oh, god no.” he let out a breathy chuckle, licking his lips. His eyes sparked. “They’re definitely running to Miles’ class. Heard they dropped out of psychology and are taking music studies instead,” he told her, scoffing at the end making her mouth gape open. 

     “What? Really?” She expressed, eyes wide almost building out its sockets as she watched him nodding his head. His eyes danced at her reaction, sending an amused smile her way. “Mhm. Think Miles can handle it, though. He loves the attention.” he said with another chuckle, referring to his colleague and close friend.

     Nina’s eyes lit up at the mention of the music professor. She remembered that he was a substitute for Alex one time and she grew very fond of him during that lecture. Miles Kane was very jovial and full of energy, which seemed to match her class, as they developed a liking to him. While he had no such expertise with Mr. Turner’s subjects, Miles sure had an interesting way of presenting given topics with his competence—being music. 

     She thought about Mrs. Williams’ class and she knew she was already running late, but she couldn’t seem to find the energy to care as she was glued beside her favorite professor indulging in a conversation—which was the longest conversation she’d ever had with him, ever.

     “See you in class at three?” Alex asked with a gentle smile, hope tinted in his voice as he changed the subject.

     He watched her face morph into a small frown as she shook her head. “Sorry. I have a dentist appointment.” He nodded in understanding, his face clouding with slight disappointment at her absence from today’s lecture, but that look quickly vanished as it rapidly appeared. This went unnoticed by the latter and he watched her eyes lit up.

     “Oh, by the way. I couldn’t send the last assignment because my computer is not working at the moment, but I did print it and–uh, wait…I think I got it. I’ll give it to you. Hold on.” she bubbled, words mumbling incoherent words as she roamed her hands around her bag to look for her papers. 

     The professor’s deep chuckle filled her ears, causing a tremor of butterflies to swarm into her stomach. She felt his hand rest on her arm, making her look up. She hated that she was so easily susceptible to him. She felt hot under his touch. She watched him shake his head, slowly pulling his hand away making her frown. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

     Her heart stuttered against her chest, making her let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She pouted, “Are you sure, Mr. Turner?” she asked him, doe-eyes looking into his soft caramel orbs that she shamefully had grown to love. 

     He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t sweat it. and besides…You’re my A student, and I know that with this assignment it will be just as strong as the others. Your writing is…. incredibly remarking, I must say. I really admire your passion for this subject.” he gushes, lips curving upwards at her response. 

     Nina’s features went from a bashful expression to an appreciative look. Her lips morphed into a smile, showing her teeth as the rapid of her chest stuttered. His words kept repeating inside her head like a mantra and she covered her fingers on her mouth to hide a big grin. She bit her lip, eyes sparking. “T-Thank you, Mr. Turner.” she shyly accepted his compliment, eyes softening at the way he was looking at her with another polite simper. 

     The professor hummed with a tip-lipped smile, mouth closing as the pair fell into silence. Alex’s eyes danced, mirroring the way his stomach swooned with butterflies. He felt a tug at his heartstrings, chest prickling for developing such feelings for his student. As much as he tried to resist, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger longer on her face. It traced down every feature, every line, and then back to her hazel eyes before trailing down to her lips. 

     “Mr. Turner?” he slightly jumped, her honey-filled voice pulling him back to reality. He blinked, noticing her looking at him with a look he couldn't quite decipher, with her head tilted to the side. Blood rushed through his face, a flustered expression forming his handsome features as he realized that he had been mindlessly staring at her without knowing. He let out a breathy chuckle, heart palpitating against his chest as his lips emitted small apologies. 

     She hummed with a small giggle, shaking her head at him. “It’s quite alright,” she reassured, eyes soft as she watched him let out another chuckle. 

     Alex sighed, loudly cursing inside his head and he looked down at his hands realizing that he was still holding her books. His eyes widened, his brain registering that she was probably headed to her class. “Right…uh–your books. I am so sorry. Here. I’ll see you next week then.” Alex stuttered, handing over her books before clearing his throat and turning on his heel. He grimaced, cursing internally while having his back to her as he fastened his pace. 

     Way to go, Alex. He thought.

Alex snapped out of his state, his tired eyes moving from the filthy ground toward her, again. He quickly looked away as a small curse emitted from his lips, feeling like a predator watching his prey. He ran a hand over his hair, his hand carding through his locks, his nails lightly scraping at his scalp. He closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping from his lips, and letting his back hit the wall. Stop looking at her, you fucking creep. He thought to himself, jaw clenched so hard that it would break at any second. 

Should I ask her to stand beside me, or is that weird? He thought, his handsome features morphing into a grimace. He bit his lower lip, hand tightening around the grip handle as he was battling internal turmoil. But she looks uncomfortable, though. Should I do it–no, fuck. It makes you look weird—His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by an awkward cough coming from behind him. “Excuse me.”

Alex shifted his body to the side while his hand was holding the grip handle to prevent him from falling. He looked at them, eyes apologetic as he let them through. He felt heat flood over his face, realizing that he had taken up the entire space. He was so immersed in his own world that he forgot everything else around him. 

A small giggle earned his attention, head whirled toward the sound coming next to him. His gaze softened, watching a little girl nestled into her mother’s arms. The child had her eyes on him, doe-eyes curiously staring at him with a happy beam. His lips curled up, bringing his hand out to wave. Her reaction was laughable, making Alex chuckle as he watched her shyly hide her face in her mother’s chest. 

He moved his gaze away, eyes staring through empty space. He felt eyes on him, making him clench his jaw. He knew it was her and he felt her boring her eyes into the side of his head. It felt like he was going to have holes in his temple and he was contemplating his next actions. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally looked over at her, still in the same uncomfortable position with commuters wedged between her. 

Alex felt his heart skip a beat as he watched her sending him a small smile. He returned her smile, eyes growing tender. ‘Are you okay?’ he mouthed, referring to her current state. His stomach turned into knots, watching her huddled into a corner, trapped into the cramped space. He saw her nod her head, shoulders shrugging as she gave him a tired look. Fuck it, I’m doing it. he thought.

The never ending battle inside his head ceased and he didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from. The professor gestured with his head to the space next to him, indicating for her to stand. He saw her face etch into a confused look, tilting her head to the side. He gave her a look, eyes tinted with slight amusement and he gestured with his hand, pointing next to him. 

Realization dawned on her face. A flustered expression formed her delicate features, lips curled up as she mirrored his simper with a shy nod. She looked beside her, noticing a passenger asleep on her shoulder. She blew out a small breath, face gracing with a scorn as she carefully moved her shoulder. She shifted her body to the side, making the person’s head hit the window. She stifled back a laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as she was trying to squeeze through the crowded space. 

Nina deeply exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath. Her eyes found him as she was walking toward him, whose face was painted with amusement at her situation. Her lips curved up, a dust of pink dancing across her cheeks as she held her bag close to her body. Her other hand was gripping on the rubber handle to keep her from falling, but the train lurched causing her to stumble on her feet. She gripped on the handle with both hands, feeling the train sped along the tracks, swaying side to side that made it difficult to walk. 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath, the train’s erratic jerks nearly throwing her off her balance. She managed to carefully make her way toward him, but just as she neared her professor, she tripped over her own feet. Her lips uttered a small squeak just as he caught her in time, steadying her with a firm grip before she could fall. “Woah there—-I’ve got you.” his deep voice filled inside her eardrums, feeling his arm around her waist.

Nina felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, eyes looking anywhere but him. She let his touch soak into her skin, his warmth sending electricity through her. She turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She watched him smiling softly down at her, “Well, that would’ve been one way to make an entrance.” she heard him say, making her lips twitch upwards. 

Nina hummed with a small chuckle, eyes sparking. “I guess I’ve got a future in stunt work if my psychology degree doesn’t pan out.” she jested, wiggling her eyebrows making her professor laugh. She joined him, but their laughter seemed to abruptly cease, noticing some people on the train giving them disapproving looks. 

The pair looked back at each other, stifling back another laugh. Alex looked at the old couple glaring daggers at them, his lips curving upwards. “Someone skipped their coffee this morning.” he said in a small voice, his voice barely above a whisper, but she heard him nonetheless. 

Nina nodded her head, a simper resting on her lips. "You’re right. They look like they could use a strong cup right now.” she whispered, eyes averting away from the couple toward him, her grin widening as they both dissolved in quiet laughter.

The Collett girl tried her best to stomp down the butterflies that swarmed into her stomach, the sound of his laughter sending her almost reeling. She felt a flush of rose spread across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart that she was so sure of him hearing. Nina was taken off guard how they effortlessly fell into a conversation, their words flowing as freely as the train moved along the tracks. 

She couldn’t grasp where she got her sudden confidence from, her shyness melting away as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. He told her about his passion for music, revealing a side of him she hadn’t expected. She shared snippets of her life, but hesitating to mention her daughter waiting for her at home. She felt it wasn’t the time nor the place to reveal such information, yet.  

The conversation flowed, creating a pleasant rhythm between them. Yet, as the conversation eventually began to fade, a comfortable silence engulfed around them. They exchanged occasional glances from time to time, gentle smiles and soft looks toward each other. The train rumbled along, the clatter of tracks being the only sound that was heard over the cramped ambiance. It was quiet on the train. There were a few murmurs and hushed whispers from a few passengers, while the rest were either seated or standing with tired expressions, face blunt as a white canvas. It created a peaceful atmosphere, allowing people to retreat into their own thoughts. 

Then, the silence was interrupted by a sudden jolt as the train lurched violently. Nina was caught off guard, losing her balance and before she could react she was flung forward. She collided with her professor, her body slamming into his hard chest. Her hands instinctively flew out, placing against his chest as she crashed into him, the scent of his cologne filling her senses. 

Alex’s arms were around her in an instant, hand gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, keeping her on her toes. “I got you, love.” he grunted, the use of an endearment slipping from his lips. Time seemed to slow as she looked up, her breath hitching as their eyes met. The world outside the train seemed to fade away, leaving only the pair wrapped in each other’s presence. 

Nina opened her mouth, but closed it, not knowing what to say. She was so immersed in his touch that she found herself unable to speak. Her fingers subconsciously curled against the fabric of his shirt as she looked at him. Her heart stammered against her chest, feeling blood rushing through her ears. She grew hot under his touch, his rough fingers tracing down her back was enough to make her pulse quicken. 

“Arriving in Paddington station.” The female announcer said through the speaker, causing the train to come to a stop. Some passengers flew out of the train, others were racing to get a seat or even a comfortable place to stand. 

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips, his firm yet gentle grip on her waist slowly loosening. It was as if he was reluctant to let her go. “There’s your stop,” he whispered, his hand running down her back comfortably before finally letting her go. And he hated that he had to let her go.

Nina seemed to snap back to her state, eyes blinking as she realized that she was still nestled up to his chest. A warm blushed tinged her face and she slowly left her hand, turning to her side to watch the passengers desperately trying to leave the packed train. She felt cold when his hand left her waist, along with the warmth of her face disappearing, as if someone was leaching all of the vibrancy out of her skin. A heavy feeling settled into her stomach and she exhaled before turning back to her professor. 

There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her stop in her tracks. His caramel eyes seemed to hold her in place, making the back of her hair stand up. She wanted to move and exit the train, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground. Her heart was having a war with how it was violently beating, and she wondered if everyone on the train could hear how fast it was thudding. She wanted to say something, but her mind was a swirling fog, preventing her from expressing her thoughts.

Someone brushing their shoulders with hers seemed to pull her back yet again from her spiraling mind. She bit her lip, feet slowly sauntering toward a small group of people ready to leave the train. She halted with her steps and turned her body toward him again with a kind smile. “See you next week, Mr. Turner.” she sheepishly bid her goodbyes, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He watched her leave in a hurry, her body disappearing into the mass as the door closed. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A frown was growing on his features, eyebrows creasing his forehead as he looked at the door. His own reflection was staring right back at him and he looked away, his gaze forward as his mind went haywire. 

Nina Collett, who are you really? He thought to himself.

[toomanytookas]

The Gift

Dieter Bravo x f!afab!reader

Rating: 18+ only please

Summary: Dieter designs a special room for you in the house that you are building together.

Important note: This is set in the world of @schnarfer’s If Wishes Came True trilogy. If you haven’t read it (where have you been? Go! Read it!!) you will likely be a bit lost.

Word count: ~3k

Content: Angst and fluff, the angst is pretty much all in the past but we do sit with it for a while here (this is dedicated to Al, after all), consumption of food and alcohol, references to/presence of drugs but they aren’t consumed on screen, oblique references to the reader and Dieter's sexual proclivities, blink and you’ll miss it moment of smutty touching, lots more sensual and casual touch as well as kissing, swearing, bathing, cats, I wrote this for one person but she’s invited you to the party

A/N: A version of this fic was gifted to my beloved @schnarfer on the occasion of her birthday last week. It would have never actually been possible for me to have the confidence to send it to her and not just throw it straight in the bin without the very gentle hand holding of @pascalssbabyy (Beth, you are an angel).

I say a version because after being the most gracious recipient of a fic of her fic (wtf was I thinking?), Al not only encouraged me to share it more widely but was willing to give it a beta and helped to refine my attempt at an ode to her style into the much punchier, emotionally charged (we do love torturing our boy a bit...) thing you now have the opportunity to read. This is absolutely the product of two minds and I could not have had more fun working with her to reach this final version. Any remaining errors and weird bits are my own, feel free to lmk if you see anything funky. I hope you like it!

I don't know what it is about you that makes the bathwater blush, why I want to ask for your hand forever around my throat;

- Megan Falley, "Your Bathwater > Wine"

When Dieter adopted Chairman Meow from the shelter, the sign on the tom’s cage said he had been wandering despondently around the property his last owner had vacated, unable to stray far from the place where he had last known a comfortable life. Abandonment issues, the profile warned. Looking for a home that will provide constant affection.

Having been driven to the cattery by a deep yearning to be the centre of someone’s world, Dieter thought he recognised a kindred spirit. I’ll be your friend, bud. He stuck a thick finger into the mog’s enclosure and wiggled it against the soft fur. When the cat had budged up even closer in response, he knew that it was love.

After you left, when he would wake to that furry face rubbing against his chin, a paw tapping his cheek to ask to be let in under the covers, Dieter was grateful that he had someone who understood why—despite Pete’s encouragement—he could never quite go through with leaving that fucking fishbowl of a house for good. Not when he no longer had you.

The wretched, destructive thing that lived inside him conjured constant reminders of how your brightness had seeped into the very walls of the house. It dangled flashes of your smile in his periphery when he made his morning coffee, replayed echoes of your laugh when he reached for you in the middle of the night. They were glimpses of lost happiness that in those brief moments still radiated joy. The glow sometimes burned like hot coals, but he gathered every memory of you tightly his chest. The searing ache was worth it. Staying put was worth it. How else would he remember so clearly how much you had made his world come alive? And how else would you know how to find him when you decided to come back?

But when you did return to him, when you came home, Dieter’s dedication to remaining in that bastard house until his end of days vanished. He was climbing the walls to be rid of it as fast as humanly possible. Why would he want to stay there when it was a constant reminder of the destruction he had wrought? Without you the house was a lifeline, but with you it was a curse. It could never be the home he wanted to give you now that he had a second chance. Despite what his trusted energy worker suggested, a ceremonial disposal of the bed and a few rounds of sage burning would not have been enough to fix it.

So he called his realtor. Sold the house. Said goodbye to all its awful energy. Hoped that maybe all the worst versions of Dieter Bravo managed to be left there, trapped behind the glass. Waiting to be discovered and dealt with by whichever sad fuck bought that Hollywood house of mirrors, blissfully unaware of the demons they were to inherit.

The Dieter menagerie moved in to yours.

The Chairman and Dolly Purrton both quickly found their favourite new spots to snooze in puddles of sunshine, but as much as he longed to join them, Dieter could never quite settle.

The longer you shared the space and began to rebuild some of the trust and respect that needed to layer on top of your burning, incandescent love; the clearer it became that your house was also too haunted.

There was too bitter an aftertaste on both your tongues whenever you would pull into the drive, remembering the pleading eyes of past Dieters who had turned up unannounced at all hours of the night begging for forgiveness, desperate for a second chance. It was too jarring, the pangs of Dieter’s jealousy over plastic, perfect Brandon, who once upon a time happily wandered those halls, pressed you hungrily against those doorframes, laughed with you over a lovingly prepared dinner made in that kitchen. What a fucking prince.

The discomfort of it all, the continued haunting that he had thought escaping his former house would resolve, left Dieter lumbering through the house, wrapping himself in a moveable den of blankets and keeping a hand braced against his tummy or a cat cradled to his chest in an effort to soothe the roiling thoughts.

After he spent a full week between shoots wandering despondently from room to room, only able to feel grounded when you were somewhere in the house, you put your foot down.

This was meant to be a second chance, D. Not us climbing back into the coffin. This house was no longer your home, you told him, if it was responsible for the tension in his jaw and the ache you felt when either of you found reminders of all the past hurt.

And so Dieter set out to build you both a house. A home that would reverberate with the joys of love and the laughter of friends, and never, ever know the monster inside him that he was working so hard to put to rest. A sanctuary for the two of you, tucked against the hills in an area where the neighbours don’t care a single bit who either of you are, only that you look out for the community and pitch in a baked good or two for the annual block party.

It’s the house of your dreams because it represents your shared commitment to making a life together. It’s the house of his dreams because, somehow, you want to live there with him.

Given a blank check, the architect and interior designer work with the two of you to identify the exact touches that will make you feel beyond comfortable. The kind of upgrades that aren’t flashy, but make enjoying the pleasurable things in life even easier.

The new bed feels like you’re being cuddled by the softest clouds. You spend your free mornings tucked in under the covers together, letting him sneak peeks over your shoulder as you gleefully trade quips with your friends and read the naughtiest and most delicious smut before rising to start your day.

There’s a gas fireplace that can be lit at a moment’s notice when you want to curl up in one of the the divine plush chairs, which you picked out together after spending an afternoon in a high-end showroom, half focused on which were the most comfortable to read in, half on which could reliably sustain both of your weights in motion.

These are just a couple of your favourite things amidst a near embarrassment of riches. They make you feel as though you’ve won the lottery, and the lottery’s name was Dieter (just Dieter, your dear love Dieter, no Bravo in sight).

Picking out features and facets for the house was so much a shared project between the two of you—the thing you could work on through trading pinterest boards and voice notes, even when projects kept you physically apart—that it was a bit of a surprise when Dieter informed you that there was a room he wanted to build that he wasn’t going to share the details of. Not until it was done.

He took infinite pleasure in making a big show of the secret, whipping out a blindfold that may or may not have originated from your toy chest when you were set to do walkthroughs during construction, curling his broad body around you and nudging you forward with one foot and then the other until the room was far enough away from view that he could restore your sight without worry of ruining the surprise.

It’s going to be magnificent, angel, he would breathe gleefully against your ear.

The contractors were always thankfully far enough ahead of you that you didn’t feel embarrassed by the heat that flooded your face at the tickle of his words and the firmness of his chest against your back.

You had some sense of what the room might be. Dieter wouldn’t reject your idea for a vintage-inspired clawfoot tub in the master unless he was going to make it up to you somewhere else in the house. He knew how much of a comfort a soak in the bath was for you, there was no way he was going to deny you the luxury in your own home.

But what exactly this room looked like remained a mystery. Sometimes a package would arrive that he would eagerly squirrel away behind that closed door, disappearing for a while to set up whatever newest addition he had imagined on the road to perfection. Piece by piece, Dieter was building a dream, one that he specifically dreamed of for you.

In the meantime, the two of you moved into the house and set about truly making it your space, fit to burst with the vibrancy of your lives.

There was nothing like being able to wind down from the heights of the energy on set, the frenetic hustle that you loved so much but demanded that you be at a constant eleven.

Nothing like ending a chillier evening by the fire. Your feet tucked under the fluff of the Chairman’s rotund rump where it was perched on Dieter’s lap, your thumb idly tracing the drops of condensation on a bottle of cider.

Nothing like welcoming friends at the weekend for a hearty roast and glowing conversation, getting to show off the fruits of your beautiful gas range and indulge in the delight of warm bellies and full hearts.

Nothing like your Dieter, flush with a new aura of happiness and love and the therapy-influenced acceptance that he was allowed to have all of this, to have you, to know joy.

On the night of your birthday, when your body and head already feel floaty from a delightful evening featuring a steady flow of cocktails and sushi, Dieter sneaks away as you are bidding goodbye to your final guests.

Once the last of your friends are out the door, he places a pair of oversized scissors in your hands and herds you like an eager collie over to the soon-to-no-longer-be-secret room. There’s a velvety ribbon across the door and he has you make the ceremonial opening cut before placing one of his warm palms over your eyes and the other at your sternum, holding you to his chest and guiding you both over the threshold.

You feel a wall of steam envelop your body and your heart leaps with anticipation. Your bathtub. You were right.

Dieter removes his hand, “Open your eyes, angel.”

Immediately, your vision is flooded with ochre and gold. Candles flicker playfully on almost every possible surface, their dancing light filling the room.

It is clear to you right away that this oasis will become a peaceful near holy space, a sanctuary that you can retreat to when you need to shut out the rest of the world. Despite the many, many acts of sin that are bound to occur inside these four walls, there is something bright and pure about the energy that Dieter has curated.

Lush ferns and orchids are mounted to the walls, bound to flourish in the tropical climate that the frequent steam will create for them.

There are massive geodes of your favourite crystals that sparkle on pedestals, radiating deep energy and glistening in the candlelight.

Two skylights open the room up so you can see the heavens, as though from your watery cocoon you might be able to ascend to the stars.

The bath itself is cavernous, currently filled nearly to the brim and softly crackling with lush bubbles that are being stirred by what you assume must be underwater jets.

On the far wall, Dieter has painted an abstract mural that makes you think of the moments of calm that you feel when he wraps you in his arms after a long day. Soft, warm, safe.

As he follows your gaze, eager to ingest your every reaction, he directs you to look at the title that he’s lettered just next to his signature.

Angel’s rest.

Your eyes are misty, “Oh, D. It’s magic.”

“Everything for my girl. Everything.”

His voice cracks slightly through the whisper, his hands come to your waist to turn you in his embrace, strong eye contact boring into your soul with the depth of how very much he means those words, beyond this gift, beyond this house.

You have to kiss him. Your heart can’t take not fusing your mouth to his in this moment.

It’s a soft kiss, a tender kiss, one you could bask in from now until the end of time. It makes you so bright with love.

You can’t help but let your lips curve into a grin. You think he must be able to feel your cheek muscles twitch from how widely you are smiling against his lips.

He breaks from you, but immediately returns once, twice, and then presses a quick and cheeky peck against your jawline.

“Come, angel. Before the water gets too cold.”

Slowly, reverently, he helps you slide your sparkling birthday dress over your shoulders and down to the floor. Pressing gentle, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and lace-covered breasts as each inch of you is revealed.

He kneels before you to remove your panties. As soon as they are at your knees, he nuzzles his face against your mound, the tip of his nose nestling against your clit.

Fuck.

You hear him exhale happily when your stance softens, hands ghosting up and down your thighs, but instead of taking his first taste of your cunt for the evening, he draws back and tips his head toward the bath.

Pouting, you nod and let him help you out of your slippers, large hand cupping each ankle in turn. When your bare feet touch the floor, you can tell that there is some sort of heating system beneath the tile. It’s heaven.

You grasp his forearm for balance as you ascend the steps and then slide into the steaming hot water of the bath. You let your grip linger, playing with the flexing muscle that you feel ripple as he wiggles his fingers playfully. He knows you're a bit loony for the feel of his powerful arms.

Then he's pulling away from you again.

Despite the near-trance the water and this moment is sending you into, you let out a soft squawk of disapproval.

"Just for a minute, angel. I want to go get your present."

More gifts? Well, an indulgent Dieter is often the happiest Dieter and it is your birthday. And Dieter firmly believes that birthday girls deserve to have some lovely treats.

You let yourself doze, still tipsy and buzzing from the joys of the night, cradled by the bubbles and the soothing warmth of the water. The next thing you know, gentle but thick fingertips are lightly dragging their way from your knee to your hip and then up the flesh of your stomach, a mild and delicious friction. Before those fingers can reach the swell of your breast, your hands come up to halt their journey. Intertwining your fingers with his, you bring Dieter’s now somewhat bubble-covered hand up for a kiss, avoiding the worst of the soapy aftertaste by pressing your lips high on his pulse point.

When you make eye contact, his gaze still looks wild with love.

"Relaxed, angel?"

"Ever so."

You look over at him and find he's set a tray down on a bar cart that has appeared from somewhere in the room. On it, a box of four pralines from your favourite chocolatier, a chilled bottle of champagne, and a joint resting on the edge of a beautiful glass ashtray. It must be new because its colours are too perfect to not have been picked out lovingly by Dieter to match the room.

You sit up slightly. Happy birthday to you, indeed.

"May I join you?" The reverence in his voice feels it’s been magnified by the room.

"We've talked about this, baby. Water makes for horrible lube."

"I just want to cuddle with my birthday girl."

This Dieter, so tender, so vulnerably in love in a way that he never let himself be before you. You sense in this moment that he truly feels he needs permission to be allowed to just be in your space for a while, a hesitance fueled by past regrets and insecurities that even the promise and protection of this new house have not fully squashed. No matter. You are more than happy to affirm just how welcome in your arms he will always be.

You smile, nodding sleepily, and he sheds his clothing. You're so relaxed, so enveloped in warmth, that you almost forget to admire his bare body as he climbs in to join you. Almost. Thank goodness the part of your brain that always wants him, is always drawn to his form, isn't actually taking a holiday so you can admire.

When he's settled with his back against the side of the bath, Dieter pulls the cart over so that everything is in reach. He pops the champagne, handing you a glass, then brings one of the chocolates to his mouth, holding it in his teeth and wriggling his eyebrows playfully in a suggestion for you to take it from him.

You giggle and indulge him, using your hands to grip the edge tub on either side of his body and pull yourself through the water until you are practically chest to chest, nose to nose. Too close for true eye contact, but you can't help but pick one of his eyes to focus on, letting yourself go a bit crosseyed to try and send him every wonderful thing you have been feeling this evening directly through your gaze.

Slowly, gently, you close the remaining distance and bite the praline in half, letting your lips drag against his as the chocolate begins to melt on your tongue. It's perfectly bitter and smooth.

Dieter consumes the rest.

"Mmm. A not too sweet for my not too sweet."

The snort that leaves your body firmly disrupts the headiness of the moment, the exhalation forming a crater in the bubbles and making you further devolve into giggles when you have to bring a hand up to brush away a clump of the soapy fuzz that sticks to his cheek.

You press your forehead against Dieter's damp shoulder and feel the rise and fall of it as he joins you in mirth, arm coming up around you so you don't slide away from him as you once again relax into the water.

As the wave of laughter subsides, your breathing synchronizes with his and you let yourself soak in the quiet. A perfect christening of this tub. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"I love you, angel. Happy birthday."

[juneyjubilation]

First of all, hello!! I hope you have/ had a great day, I wanted to make a request about Dick Grayson, we all know he's just a ball of sunshine but what about we (As another vigilante who's close to him+ he has a crush on -you can keep the details short or as long as you want-) finding him at his lowest? But like... Really really lowest... In the point where he feels like a disappointment to his parents to bruce himself, to Alfred or basically to everyone who knows him, the point where he thinks he's letting everyone down... The point where he's about to cry and have a panic attack (inside out 2..) and we find him, (let's just say that reader knows him well enough to be able to say somethings are off with him..) try and do everything we can to comfort and console him because... My man really deserves true affection and reminder that he has amazing affect on people around him... (The trigger to his break down could be him, not being able to save a child as he tried to save 5 other people in danger etc. whatever you want, I hope I'm not making any mistakes on writing because English is not my native language and I'd literally sit down and cry if I didn't express myself successfully ;( also could you please make it AFAB?) Thank you so much for everything in advance..

Feel free to ingore this request, but if you won't do it please inform me I won't be hurt 🙏🏻💝

hi! thank you so much for the request :) i absolutely did not mind writing this, though i fear i did mistakenly add more trauma to the golden boy - so ummmm... my bad!

and your english was good at conveying your point! i hope i was able to translate this to paper well :)

also i listened to Birds of a Feather on repeat whilst writing this! enjoy!

details: no use of y/n/(reader), dick calls the reader 'Angel', she/her user, this could be seen as platonic, but he is evidently pining in his thoughts.

content warnings: mentions and brief description of child death, flashbacks to parental death, minor character death (of the unnamed child), panic attacks.

- thank you for reading!! continue to under cut to read -

The haunting memory of the child he had failed, the one he couldn't save, grips him in a vice-like chokehold. It's a branding iron seared into his very soul, a constant reminder of his inadequacy—a festering, gnawing wound that threatens to consume him whole. He clutches his throbbing temple, his mind replaying the horrifying moments when the child, caught in the crossfire, fell to their inevitable fate.

For a single moment the image of that little girl in her yellow sweater returned him to the memory he ran from most; the image of his parents and their once striking yellow and green costumes danced in red.

Contorted bones and brain matter tended to have that effect on him.

Each labored, panicked breath he exhales is a testament to the tumultuous turmoil within him. Sweat trickles down his temples, mingling with the darkness of his hair as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks, unchecked by the demons gnawing at his soul.

His body trembles, the sudden vulnerability an unfamiliar and unwelcome companion. His once steady hands now shake as he struggles to compose himself, to regain control of the emotional maelstrom that threatens to consume him.

The cool Gotham breeze offers no solace, the whispering wind carrying the echoes of the child's cries and the deafening silence that followed.

In a tortured whisper, Nightwing tries coaxing calm into his body. "Breathe... in... hold... out..." His words echo faintly in the wind, a desperate attempt to wrestle back control.

Each labored breath becomes a tiny beacon of light, guiding him through the storm of self-doubt and guilt. He imagines the air filling his lungs like a warm, golden light, chasing away the shadows of despair.

One hand reaches up, fingers brushing against the emblem that adorns his chest, a symbol of his past and his future, a reminder of the strength he has wielded time and time again.

The other hand forms a fist, his knuckles turning white, as he clings to the memory of the five children he saved, the lives he changed. His heartbeat slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, as the grounding exercise takes root.

The tenuous grip on his grounding fades like a fading signal, replaced by the raw, unadulterated pain of his failure. He collapses in on himself, sobbing, rage and despair mingling in his anguished cries.

In his mind's eye, the image of the little girl materializes once more, a beacon of hope snuffed out, the same way his own youth was extinguished. The memory of his mother, her laughter and love, dance just beyond his reach. The parallels between the two haunt him, a relentless tormentor.

Tears stream down his cheeks, the salty droplets stinging the wounds of his soul. His shoulders quake under the weight of the burden he bears, the crushing guilt of that lost life threatening to drown him.

In the midst of Nightwing's torment, a shadow falls over him, a gentle presence signaling the arrival of a familiar figure. A figure he has deemed his *Angel*.

She lands gracefully beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery. Yet, for him, she embodies strength, solace, and warmth. Her aura fills the space around him, tickles at his senses in a way that's instantly recognizable, even in the darkness of Gotham's smog.

A gentle hand brushes through his hair, her touch a caress, tender and caring. "There you are," her voice a soothing balm to his raw emotions. He feels her presence, the mere nearness offering a sliver of comfort to his broken spirit.

In the shadows, his solace crouches beside her friend, sensing the turmoil that wracks his body.

Nightwing's initial instinct kicks in, a mixture of surprise and panic as he realizes he's been discovered in his most vulnerable state. The superheroic facade he presents to the world is shattered, exposing the raw, bleeding core of his humanity.

The very thought of burdening her with his failures and shortcomings weighs heavily on him. He's always been the one to save, to lead, to console. The thought of being the one needing rescue is an eerie and unsettling prospect.

Nightwing opens his mouth to protest, to push her away, to defend his honor, but the words stick in his throat. He can't bear to witness the disappointment in her eyes, or the pity that would surely follow.

Instead, he utters the word that's reserved for her alone. "Angel..." The plea is a confession without words, an admission of the depth of his trust in her.

Instead of pulling away, she scoots closer, wrapping her arms around him, a shield against the unyielding darkness that threatens to swallow him whole. Her presence is a beacon of hope, offering a safe haven in the storm that refused to wane.

Angel shakes her head gently, her eyes filled with an understanding that transcends words. Her lips move in a soft, almost imperceptible whisper, weaving a tapestry of comfort through her words.

"Grief, it's a beast, twisting in your gut, aching in places you never thought possible. It's a reminder of the things you can't change, the memories that haunt, the life that slips through the cracks."

Her voice is a lullaby, a rhythmic pattern that guides him through the tempest of emotions. She speaks with the ruggedness of a street-hardened hero and the tenderness of a loving friend.

"But we don't drown in it. We don't let it define us. We let the tears fall, the chest heave, and then we find the strength buried beneath the pain to carry on."

Nightwing listens to her soft words, the wisdom in her voice like a balm to his raw emotions. His thoughts drift back to the time they first met, the war-torn streets of Gotham, a city on the brink of ruin.

He remembers the first time he saw her, the way she moved through the chaos with an almost ethereal grace. She was a beacon of hope in the midst of despair, her emerald eyes sparkling like jewels, piercing the darkness.

In that moment, he knew he would follow her, that she would be his shining star. And so, he called her Angel—not because she resembled the celestial beings but because she represented the light that guided him through life's shadows.

He would never share this with her, this intimate connection that bound them together, a secret that only he held tight to his chest. For in this moment, he realized that Angel's words weren't a fix-all, a panacea to mend all his wounds. They didn't erase the knot in his throat, the heaviness in his heart. But they did something equally profound; they eased the suffocating weight of isolation.

For the first time, he realized he didn't have to face this alone. That he had been surrounded by a network of support, of friends and allies who shared his purpose.

In her arms, he felt anchored, tethered to reality, to the world he fought so tirelessly to protect. A world that was no longer a shadowy, menacing abyss but a place of hope, of potential, of redemption.

And as his sobs subside, leaving behind a silent contemplation, he knows that there will be other battles, other moments of weakness, but he wouldn't face them alone.

In the company of Angel, the moniker 'Nightwing' did not feel like a suffocating mantle that weighed heavily upon Dick's shoulders. Instead, it became a symbol of the partnership they shared, a badge of honor that spoke volumes about their bond.

Angel, with her unwavering support, reminded Dick of the reasons he chose this path in the first place—a desire to protect, to heal, and to stand for justice. Her faith in him, her belief in his abilities, and her unwavering trust in their combined might, breathed new life into the persona he had donned.

Nightwing, the man and the symbol, no longer felt like a burden, but rather the manifestation of his resolve, a testament to his strength, and a beautifully complex reflection of his vulnerabilities. In the presence of Angel, he could be both a hero Gotham needed and the person he needed to be in order to heal from his past.

In the silence that follows, Dick finds himself looking into the eyes of the woman who had become an indispensable part of his life. A man of few words when it came to expressing his gratitude, he finds solace in the simplest of gestures.

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her close, his strong frame enveloping her as he basks in the comfort of her presence. His jaw clenches, the tension a testament to the weight of his emotions. Eventually, he finds the courage to express his gratitude.

"Thank you, Angel." The words are a whisper, sincere and heartfelt. He holds her tighter, as if to etch this moment in his memory, a beacon of warmth in the cold, unforgiving city that they call home.

In that moment, he doesn't need grand speeches or declarations of love, but the simple act of being in her presence. Their bond, forged in the fires of conflict and the camaraderie of friendship, is a testament to the depth of their connection.

He knew he could depend on her, in the darkest hours and brightest victories. She was the calm in the eye of his storm, the beacon of hope that flickered in the shadows.

Together, they stood as guardians of the city, protectors of the innocent, and confidants to one another. Dick Grayson, the young circus performer, and the vigilante known as Nightwing, had found in Angel a companion for life, a partner in crimefighting, and a friend he cherished more than gold.

As they sat on the rooftop, the weight of the world momentarily lifted, Dick knew that he owed her more than he could ever repay. But the debt, he realized, was one he would gladly continue to work off, through every mission, every battle, and every victorious smile they shared. Because in her, he had found not just a comrade but a partner of the heart. And his gratitude, as always, was simple and true: Thank you, Angel.

[jiniretbabii]

Concrete:

An Reader x San Angst Drabble:

Warning: Minor language, unprotected sex. MDNI

The drive over to San’s house felt like the longest journey of my life. My grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white, as if it could somehow anchor me to my decision. Tears dripped steadily from my eyes, blurring my vision, but I didn’t care. I was resolute, my mind set on ending this toxic cycle. San wasn’t the man I fell in love with anymore—his once loving and affectionate demeanor now replaced by coldness, harshness, and dismissal.

A flashback from last week replayed in my mind, a scene that solidified my decision:

“Why can’t you tell me what’s going on, San? We’re supposed to be there for each other. You keep shutting me out!” I had pleaded, my voice breaking.

“Just shut the hell up and fucking leave already. Your constant nagging isn’t helping shit but making me more stressed. I’ve got enough shit on my plate—the last thing I need is some nagging bitch up my ass all the time!” he had snapped back, throwing a vase against the wall, shattering it on impact. His words cutting deep.

The memory stung, and I bit my lip to keep from breaking down completely. I didn’t believe in text breakups; I owed it to myself and to him to say this face-to-face. Pulling into the gated driveway. I looked up through the glass window. He was pacing around, biting his nail, lost in thought. For a moment, something inside me softened. I shook my head, reminding myself why I was here.

I exited the car, anxiously making my way to the front door. Turning the doorknob my heart pounded.

Was this right?

Did I have the courage to face him?

How will he take it?

My the click of my heels on the marble floor echoing through the mansion's entrance. My fingers traced the smooth banister of the staircase as my heart pounded in my chest. San looked up as I approached, his eyes swollen and red.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice a mere whisper.

“San,” I replied, my own voice trembling. “We need to talk.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re done with me.”

“That’s correct. I didn’t think you deserved a text,” I said, my tone firm despite the tears threatening to spill over.

His voice was shaky, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “What can I do to fix this?”

I bit my lip, looking away to compose myself. “San, you can’t fix it. I’ve made up my mind. I need something concrete, something real. Lately, you’ve been avoiding me, acting different. You’re not the same man I fell in love with. You’ve become so cold to me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, his tears finally broke free, streaming down his face. He reached out, trying to touch my hand, but I pulled away.

“I’ll always love you, but you can’t hurt me like this anymore. I can’t allow it,” I said, my voice breaking.

I turned to leave, but San got up and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight. “Y/N, baby, please. I’m so sorry. Please, I can’t be without you,” he begged, his voice raw with desperation.

Tears fell from my eyes as I looked up at him. “I-I’m sorry,” I choked out, struggling to unlock his hands from my waist. His grip only tightened.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll change, I promise. Just don’t leave me,” he cried, his voice cracking with anguish.

I closed my eyes, the pain in his voice cutting through me. “San, you’ve had so many chances. I can’t keep breaking my own heart for you.”

He loosened his grip slightly, enough for me to turn around and face him. “I love you, San. But I need to love myself more right now. I need to heal.”

He nodded slowly, tears still flowing. “I understand,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. How many times have you said sorry and keep DOING. THE. SAME. SHIT!” I finally snapped.

He sat in silence.

I continued, “it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Fucking concrete. Doesn’t penetrate. Getting through to you feels like a burden and I’m so goddamn tired of it!”

“Baby-“

“I don’t need this anymore San. I can’t keep hurting myself.”

I leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, San,” I whispered, turning away for the last time.

As I walked out of the mansion, the weight of my decision settled over me. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I knew it was the right thing. Tears pouring nonstop.

Its over.

Damn it hurts.

As I walked toward my car, each step felt heavier than the last. The weight of my decision pressed down on me, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I fumbled for my keys, tears blurring my vision. Just as I was about to unlock the car, I felt a familiar grip on my arm, pulling me back.

“Y/N, wait,” San’s voice was thick with emotion.

Before I could react, his lips crashed onto mine, desperate and fervent. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against my lips. “I can’t let the woman I love leave me like this.”

I wanted to push him away, to remind myself of all the pain he had caused. But deep down, I couldn’t bear to see him hurt. His kiss was filled with a passion that had been missing for so long, and it stirred something inside me.

San’s lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down my spine. He slid his hand down the side of my trench coat, exposing my shoulder. “S-San, please stop,” I whispered, but my voice lacked conviction.

“I hurt you, I betrayed your trust. You have every right to leave. But I can’t allow that.”

He couldn’t stop. It was as if he needed to prove his love, to make me stay. He lifted me onto the hood of my car, his kisses growing more tender and gentle, reminiscent of the San I had fallen in love with.

His hands held my hips, pulling me closer. Our kisses deepened, his tongue slipping into my mouth, exploring, pleading. “Baby, please, one more chance,” he begged between kisses.

I was silent, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. “Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

One kiss.

“Baby, please,” he whispered again, his lips brushing mine.

A second kiss.

“I promise I’ll make it right,” he vowed, his eyes locked onto mine, filled with a raw sincerity I hadn’t seen in so long.

Another kiss.

My heart pounded in my chest, torn between the love I still felt and the pain he had caused. “One last chance, San,” I gasped for breath, my resolve wavering.

San’s eyes lit up with hope as he lifted me into his arms, carrying me back into the house. Our lips never parted, each kiss a mix of desperation and longing.

As we crossed the threshold, he kicked the door shut behind us. “I swear, Y/N, I’ll make it right. I’ll be the man you fell in love with again,” he promised, his voice filled with determination.

He carried me up the stairs to his bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. His hands were everywhere, rediscovering each curve and contour of my body, as if trying to memorize me all over again.

“San, this doesn’t change everything,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

“I know,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much I love you.”

His words, combined with his touch, broke down my defenses.

Afterward, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, our breaths mingling. “I’ll show you, Y/N. I’ll prove that I can be the man you deserve,” San whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the hope and determination there. “I hope so, San. Because this really is your last chance.”

He nodded, pulling me closer. “I won’t waste it,” he promised, his voice filled with conviction.

His hand slowly slid down my body. Pulling away the fabric of the trench coat exposing the stockings I had on.

San's eyes darkened with desire, quickly he got up, immediately tearing off the coat, letting it fall to the floor. The sight of me in nothing but black lace lingerie made his breath hitch. Looking down I could see a tent starting to form in his sweatpants.

Yanking my legs apart, he climbs in between.

His hands slid up my thigh-high stocking-covered legs, sending shivers through my entire body. He began to kiss my stomach, each soft press of his lips causing my back to arch off the bed.

His hands roamed over my body, his touch both gentle and possessive. Positioned cozily between my thighs, he slowly pulled off my panties, the anticipation making my breath quicken. His lips found the spot I desperately needed him to touch, and he began suckling on my sensitive bud. A cry of pleasure escaped my lips as his tongue curled around it, the sensation overwhelming.

I gripped the silk bedsheets, my heels digging into the mattress. "Only I can make you feel this way," he groaned into the heat between my legs, his voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and love. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at me. "Say it," he commanded softly.

I bit my lip, refusing to give in so easily. His response was immediate—he slid two fingers inside me, curving them upwards as he continued his assault on my clit. My cries grew louder, my body trembling with the intensity of his touch. "Say it," he urged again, his voice more insistent.

My only response was a moan, my mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words. His fingers worked faster, each movement bringing me closer to the edge. His tongue moved in tandem, driving me wild. I could feel my climax approaching quickly, the sensation building to an almost unbearable peak.

"SAY. IT!" he demanded, his voice a mix of desperation and command.

"I—I'm yours! Only you can make me feel this way!" I finally cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

San's movements sped up, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony. "F-fuck! San, I'm cumming!" I screamed, the climax hitting me with a force that left me breathless.

He pulled away just as my body began to convulse with pleasure, lifting me up and positioning himself at my entrance. He pushed inside me slowly, filling me completely.

“FUCK!” He groans out, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. Our breaths mingled as he carried me over to the banister of the staircase. I gripped the banister tightly, wrapping my legs around his waist as he began to move.

Each thrust of his dick was filled with love and desperation, a silent promise that he would never let me go. "Y/N," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "I love you. I’ll make this right, I swear."

His words, combined with the rhythm of his movements, sent waves of pleasure through me. I held onto him, our bodies moving in perfect sync. “B-baby. S-so big.” I cried out.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, each touch and kiss a testament to the love we still shared.

“Baby all for you. I fucking love you.” He gasp in my ear.

"San," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper. "I love you too."

His grip on me tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "I’ll never let you go," he vowed, his voice filled with emotion.

His thrust became even more sloppy, harder, faster.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, “GOD! CHOI SAN! I’M CUMMING!” I threw one arm around his neck, pulling his lips onto mine.

His dick pushing even deeper inside. Tongues dancing with each other, lips attached, devouring each other’s moans.

I could feel his dick twitching and convulsing. He’s was so close. One last thrust was all it took.

“Y/N!” He cried out. His nails digging into my flesh. The warm thick ropes of his cum filling me.

As we reached our climax together, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us. In that moment, all the pain and anger melted away, replaced by a love that was stronger than ever.

Still inside he carries me to the bed. Lying together, our bodies entangled.

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, our breaths slowly returning to normal. San’s eyes met mine, filled with a mix of hope and determination. "I’ll prove it to you, Y/N. I’ll be the man you deserve."

I nodded, my heart filled with a cautious optimism. "I believe you, San. Please don’t let me down."

He kissed me softly, a promise in his touch. "I won’t," he said, his voice steady and sure.

As we lay there, with the future still uncertain, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

[tenderlygroovystarfish]

Parallels are funny

I was never into anime when we were friends. I just wasn't a fan, until recently. I was watching a few different animes based on another friend's recommendations. Jujutsu Kaisen is the one I am referring to as I write this. I never thought about why Satoru Gojo's and Suguru Geto's relationship really affected me until I saw this piece of art.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto fit us so well.

The love, the intensity, the ending. One who would do anything for the other if they asked. One who kept the other in check while allowing them to feel truly free. One who was shining too bright to notice the darkness consuming the other. The one who had endless possibilities, and the one who wanted the impossible.

From freshman year to the middle of our junior year of college, we were inseparable.

Constant rides and study sessions. Doing homework, and practicing our pass-off music together. Those first few classes in our major were hard, but don't worry, I was there to always lend a hand when you needed it. Classes just kept getting harder. We both started to get busy and overwhelmed. I know you started to feel depressed when I was advancing in classes, and you were struggling with the same ones. I was there to support you as much as I could, but I had to keep going. I just didn't realize that I was leaving you behind. I thought you just needed more time, but you were focused on other things.

We were a duo- connected at the hip. Always together, never too far apart.

The friendship was innocent. Sharing laughs and having late night conversations. Small, drunk kisses that didn't mean anything, right? Cuddling and sharing blankets. Matching outfits and saying I love you. We talked about getting matching tattoos. I swore you were my soulmate. We shared so many late night drives. Remember when we went to the beach at midnight and didn't get back home until 4am? Yeah, I replay the video sometimes just to hear your voice.

Everyone thought we were dating.

That was so funny, right? Of course as best friends we shared locations, had specific nights just for us to get dinner, had sleepovers every weekend, and joked about why we haven't slept together, yet. Of course, as best friends we would push the limits of what other friends do. Of course, I noticed you were struggling, I tried my best to help you. It wasn't always what you needed, but I tried. -Did you notice my struggle? No? That's okay. I hid it pretty well.- Of course, I got upset when you started to use guys to make other guys jealous. I didn't want to see you play with people's emotions like that, but I also didn't know how to stop you. You couldn't see how it affected you. You didn't see the changes it made.

Some words were said- words I wish I could take back, but it's too late for that.

We didn't speak for quite some time after that. I left my final 'I love you' on your doorstep- a scrapbook of us. The times we did speak were brief and out of pure necessity. Until, one day you volunteered a comment on my performance. I was frozen. You didn't need to compliment me- I didn't need it, rather. This was a critique, but you offered me love, instead.

That was your final 'I love you.'

I know that many other people have experienced a friendship like SatoSugu, but I think we truly encapsulated it, unfortunately. From the intense friendship with wild adventures, to blurring the lines between friend and lover, to losing each other, and to, finally, saying our final 'I love yous' to each other in our own ways.

Just like Satoru Gojo's happiness around Suguru Geto, my happiness was so loud when I was with you that I could not hear your silence. I’m sorry Satoru- Suguru didn’t stay in this universe either. Maybe the next one. In this universe, I spent 3 years loving you, and, now, I will spend the rest of forever missing you. There is no curse more twisted than love.

You're not dead, but I will never see you again. Even if I did, you wouldn’t be the same. You are my best friend, and I was yours.

[slightlygaywritesslightlytoomuch]

Alex cabot x fem!Reader

FREE PALESTINE

ANGST

Masterlist

(Credit to owner)

The slam of the apartment door echoed through the usually quiet space, vibrating in your chest like a tuning fork. You flinched, the cheerful melody you were humming dying in your throat. Silence, heavy and thick with unspoken emotions, followed. It wasn't the comfortable silence that often settled between you after a long day, but a tense quiet that pressed down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

"I need to be alone," she spat, her voice tight, each word laced with barely suppressed emotion that crackled in the air. It was a command, not a request, and the harshness in her tone scraped against your heart.

You blinked, taken aback by the iciness radiating off her. Concern gnawed at you, a cold knot forming in your stomach. You knew she'd had a rough day at court, the details of which she hadn't shared, but this, this was different. This was a side of Alex you'd never seen, a raw vulnerability masked by a storm of anger.

"Okay," you managed, your voice barely a whisper. The book you were reading felt suddenly heavy in your hand, the words blurring into meaningless shapes. You wanted to reach out, to hold her close and chase away whatever demons haunted her, but the look in her eyes, a desperate plea for solitude, held you back.

You retreated to the kitchen, the echo of the slammed bedroom door slamming against your chest. You busied yourself with mindless tasks, setting the table for a dinner that suddenly felt pointless. Every clinking spoon, every rattle of a plate, resonated in the tense silence, a constant reminder of the storm brewing just down the hall.

Half an hour ticked by, each second stretching into an eternity. The worry gnawing at you intensified with every passing minute. You replayed the day in your head, searching for any missed signs, any unspoken hurt that might have caused this sudden withdrawal. But you came up empty.

Pushing aside your apprehension, you grabbed two plates, the weight of them a grounding force amidst the swirling anxieties. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and headed towards the bedroom door.

"Hey, I made your favorite," you started, pushing the door open a sliver. You tried to keep your voice light, unassuming, but it came out strained, a reflection of the turmoil within.

"I said I want to be alone!" Alex snapped, her voice laced with a raw anger that cut deep. The words were like a slap, the sting echoing in the hollowness of your chest. The plates nearly clattered to the floor in your surprise.

"Alex," you said, your voice thick with a mixture of hurt and concern. "You had a rough day, let's just eat and-"

"Don't tell me what I need!" she roared, her voice breaking slightly at the edges. "This isn't about the damn case!" Her green eyes, usually filled with warmth, were now blazing with a fire that scared you. "Just leave me alone!"

The venom in her words struck you like a physical blow. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You had never seen her like this, so vulnerable and hurting, lashing out in a way that tore at the fabric of your love. But the harshness in her words scraped away at the understanding you were trying to build.

"Fine," you choked out, the hurt twisting in your gut like a knife. "I'll be out." Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but it was enough. The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the fury that had just erupted.

You turned away, the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. The apartment, once a haven of warmth and love, now felt suffocating. You stumbled out the door, the cool night air a welcome shock to your system.

Tears streamed down your face, blurring the city lights into streaks of shimmering color as you drove. Each sob that wracked your body echoed the shattering of your world. The hurt was a dull ache that spread through your chest, constricting your breath, making every inhale a struggle.

You loved Alex, fiercely and unconditionally, but her words echoed in your mind, each one a searing reminder of the rejection, the feeling of being shut out. You had offered comfort, a listening ear, a safe space to share the burdens of her day, and she had thrown it back in your face.

You wrestled with those thoughts as you drove, the familiar streets blurring into a canvas of neon lights and rain-streaked asphalt. You questioned everything you thought you knew about your relationship. Had you been insensitive? Had you not been there for her enough?

The self-blame was a bitter pill to swallow, mixing with the hurt of Alex's rejection. You pictured her on the bed, alone with her demons, and a fresh wave of tears welled up. You ached to hold her, to whisper reassurances, but her harsh words echoed, a barrier you couldn't seem to penetrate.

Hours bled into one another, the rhythmic whoosh of the windshield wipers a monotonous counterpoint to the storm raging inside you. Exhaustion eventually settled in, a heavy weight dragging at your eyelids. You found yourself parked on a deserted pier, the sound of the waves crashing against the pilings a low, melancholic lullaby.

Stepping out of the car, you walked to the edge, the cold spray stinging your face. The vast expanse of the ocean mirrored the vast emptiness you felt inside. You leaned against the railing, a sob escaping your lips, raw and uncontrolled.

"Why, Alex?" you whispered into the night, the wind whipping your voice away. The question hung unanswered, lost in the vast indifference of the sea.

As the first fingers of dawn began to paint the sky with streaks of pink and orange, you knew you had to go back. The anger that had flickered earlier had died down, replaced by a profound sadness, a deep ache that threatened to consume you.

When you entered the apartment, the air was thick with a tense silence. Alex was curled up on the couch, a half-eaten plate of takeout abandoned on the coffee table. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her usually vibrant face pale and drawn.

Shame flickered across her face as she saw you, quickly replaced by a defensiveness that faltered as she saw the raw vulnerability etched on your own features. The sight of your pain seemed to yank her back from the ledge she'd been teetering on.

"Alex," you started, your voice hoarse from crying. You wanted to unleash a torrent of words, to express the hurt and confusion you felt, but the words wouldn't come. All you managed was a choked sob that escaped your lips.

She flinched, as if struck, and her eyes welled up again. In that moment, the dam broke. She scrambled to her feet and threw herself into your arms, burying her face in your shoulder. Her body wracked with silent sobs, the sound a physical manifestation of the pain she'd been trying to hold back.

You held her close, stroking her hair gently, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. This wasn't the apology you craved, not yet, but it was a start. A silent acknowledgment of the hurt inflicted, a fragile bridge reaching out across the chasm that had opened between you.

As she cried, you whispered reassurances, letting her know you were there, that you wouldn't leave. The night may have been long, filled with tears and doubt, but in the quiet vulnerability of the morning light, you found a flicker of hope. The road to healing wouldn't be easy, the trust that had been shaken would need to be rebuilt, but as you held Alex close, you knew your love for her was strong enough to weather any storm.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Happy Couple 2

Part 1

I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t! But here we are. I make no promise and am just following a whim.

Summary: Your father makes a deal to marry you to his top capo. (mob au)

Warnings: dark elements such a mob business and intimidation. More to be added as they become relevant. You know what I write typically so you know what to expect.

Thank you all for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy.❤️

The newlyweds are elusive. You end the night alone, simmering in the back of the Cadillac, the driver silent. Another of your father’s men. Had he been promised a piece too?

The buzz of alcohol doesn’t last at the sobering revelation. The shadow of Bucky’s touch lingers under your dress, tingling down your leg, pulsing in the arch of your foot. His words replay in your head over and over, your father’s nod, the indifferent dancers playing their part in the background.

Bucky let you go with a kiss on the cheek, lingering but gentle. His lack of resistance betrayed his certainty. He has no reason to be pushy because the deal is made. Your father has made his irrefutable declaration.

You go to bed angry. The happy couple will be away on their honeymoon. A convenient escape.

The large house, the manse behind its tall gates, is empty and quite as you are left to mull in your displeasure. You rehearse all the words you’ll say to your father. Him? What am I? A cow to be traded? I am your daughter!

Your anger roils higher and higher as the night before curdles with the anticipation of your confrontation. Usually, you would enjoy the time alone. In fact, you were happy to have the opportunity to be free of Kendra and her laughable airs.

The time slogs by torturously. You should buy a ticket and fly down to Miami to confront your father. Kendra too. You know she’s had something to do with this.

You talk yourself down. No, that’s not the way to handle your father. That’s too far and once you cross a line, there is no going. Daddy he may be but dangerous nonetheless.

You resign yourself to a day by the pool, laying in the sun behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. The soft trickle of the filter only agitates you as dread tugs at your mind. Just stop thinking. You’ve never had a problem with that before.

You ask Marcia, the only constant in your life, to bring you one of the colourful vodka drinks from the bar. The loyal maid returns with the bottle, already uncapped, and leaves it on the square glass table beside your loungers. You roll over on your stomach and take a drink from the long neck before settling your forehead against your bent arms.

The sun beams down on your back, warm the fabric of your bottoms, raising beads of sweat across your skin. You nurse the drink until its no longer cold, chugging down the last stringent mouthful with a sneer. Another is in order if you’re going to make through today, let alone the rest of the week.

You drop your head again and close your eyes. Tomorrow, you could do some shopping, offer a little payback on the credit card statement. Maybe a party at the house, it’s the perfect opportunity and you could use company beyond your dire internal monologue.

You hear the sliding door and without looking up, you call to the maid, “Marcia, would you mind bringing me another? The watermelon this time, please.”

“I am a fan of peach myself,” Bucky intone and you shoot your head up in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You snarl as his eyes rove down your back, shamelessly lingering on your ass.

“I’ve come to see my future wife,” he gives a crooked smirk.

You sit up and reach for the towel draped over the back of the chair. His hand settles over it and keeps you from swiping it away. You glare at him as he stares down at you.

“I wanted to take you to dinner. Properly.”

“Dinner? I don’t have much of an appetite,” you stand, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Ah, sweetheart, come on. We always got along so well.”

You scoff and look away, “I get along with all daddy’s men. You know how it is.”

“I’m not just your daddy’s man,” he brings his finger up under your chin and turns your head back to him, “you know I’m not like them.”

“I don’t know you at all. You all just put on the same act for him. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he purrs with a wink, “I wouldn’t marry a stupid woman.”

“Ugh,” you shove his hand away and march to the edge of the pool, “I’m busy, can’t you see? Having a swim.”

You stretch to dive in but are suddenly wrenched back by your elbow. He twists your arm back painfully, spinning you to face him.

“We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.”

“No, we’re not. Get out of my house.”

He snorts, “your house? I think you mean daddy’s.”

You clench your jaw and gulp, gathering spit in the back of your throat.

“Don’t even think of spitting in my face,” he warns as he squeezes your arm tightly, “I’ve never earned that from you. Don’t be a brat and go put something pretty on for me.”

You jut your jaw and wriggle against his grasp, “how long were you waiting for it, huh? You fucking creep–”

“Now, don’t be rude. You always were sweet on me, let’s not pretend. Such a little flirt.”

“Ha, the midlife crisis is talking,” you retort.

His tongue slips out and he wets his lips. His eyes drift down and he considers you. He slowly removes his hand from your arm. You step back to rub the tender flush, keeping your arm across your chest defensively.

“I was nice, wasn’t I?” He softens, “you know I can be nice so why are you pushing me?”

“Because. I. Don’t. Want. To. Marry. An. Old. Man.” You enunciate each word sharply. “Even you.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t look angry. More amused. He crosses his arms, “old man, better than a little boy.”

You scowl, “can’t you buy a different wife? That’s all I am. As good as a suitcase full of bills.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not like them.”

“I’m not pretending. I asked your daddy out of respect. Tradition. But you’re not just any woman, you’re the one that I want. The only one.”

You stare at him. His blue eyes glint dangerously as he stands with shoulders squared, unflinching as he takes steady breaths.

“I’m a patient man, sweetheart,” he says, “so I’ll give you some time to get ready for dinner.” He smirks and bends his arm to graze the coarse hair along his chin, “I’ve waited a long time to have a doll like you on my arm.”