#I don't even know how to tag that I need to let it out or I'll lose my min

[datschaos]

I'd like to add onto this;

The use of "trigger warnings" means that... hello, the tags themselves are warning you about the content in the story. Don't like the tags, then... don't click on the story.

I'm triggered on some very specific topics. Seeing that specific thing mentioned in tags can raise my anxiety, yeah-- and I know that story ain't for me, move along. So... I move along and keep scrolling.

It's the responsibility of yourself to manage *your* emotions. What's traumatic to you, maybe isn't traumatic to someone else, and visa versa.

And.... For those precious blessed beans out there who have not ever been exposed to some of the more horrific things this life can provide, it can be incredibly hard for them to relate to someone who *has* lived through those things.

Not just wrote or read about it. Lived. Through. It.

Reading these scary stories or stories with certain themes explored, can absolutely be one of the ways people dealing with their own personal struggles can work through their trauma in a safe, fictional environment. Moreover, stories that contain darker content can -- and i'm not saying every story is, I'm saying they can be written this way -- be a wonderful safe way to educate one's self about other topics and how to even be able to discuss and talk about them, and be able to relate to another person or scenario. Might even learn some useful skills.

Me? Sexual harrassment of any kind is a major trigger, particularly non-con. I used to avoid stories that even had the rape/non-con trigger warning added, and refused to read un-rated / un-warning-tagged works because I was that triggerable even just hearing it *mentioned.* So I deeply appreciated and still appreciate A03's tagging system. It let me currate my experience to suit my specific needs. many stories with that tag, I soon learned, didn't even contain actual graphic content of a rape happening, but rather dealt with the *topic* of it, or past references to it, or off-screen happenings. Some did.

I learned it wasn't such a black and white label, but a little bit broader of a whole spectrum, and many people used the tag with over-caution rather than risk being not-tagged-enough.

Now? I read some stories with That Scary Tag attached that used to scare me witless just to read it, because I discovered that at least some stories... I actually learned things from them, that helped me work through my IRL trauma by witnessing how a fictional character dealt with the same or similar trauma I experienced, themselves. Their healing journey helped my healing journey. Learning from their mistakes and realizations in a fictional setting where I wasn't actually in harm's way, helped me internalize and absorb new lessons or perspectives on the topic that helped me work through my own little messed up head from things I experienced in the past.

I'm so very serious when I say this: learn how to scroll and leave it be.

A03 is a space of many writers with all kinds of flavors. You're not gonna like every flavor.

Fortunately, A03 also invented an awesome tagging system.... that lets us find what flavors we DO like.

If something is truly so triggering to you that you cannot even read a tag that warns you that content is contained within the story and therefore informs you it's probably not the right story for you to read at this point in your life if ever, then utilize the advanced search functions to restrict certain keywords. Perfect? No. Useful? yes.

Your comfort zone is your responsibility to dictate with the tools provided explicitly for the exact purpose of curating your experience. Learn how to utilize them, and you'll find yourself a lot happier.

Try to control everyone and make them exactly like yourself to fit in a little narrow restricted world view of how the world 'should' work and 'it should only work this way,' and you'll be miserable for so long as you strive to do the impossible and impractical.

god keep ur fucking kink meme shit out of ao3 tag y'all make this fandom even more insufferable than it already is and thats saying something!!! The kind of shit y'all post require a fucking trigger warning it doesnt belong in a safe space

[slutforvoldy]

“ YOU'RE LOSING ME. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: the reader struggles with the painful realization that no matter how much she gives, lando will never fight for her the way she fights for him.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, lando is a d!ck, gaslighting, communication issues, mentions of y/n

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

tag-list: @oscduck81

a/n: this may or may not be loosely inspired by a real life experience..........

THE ROOM WAS dimly lit, the soft blue glow of Lando’s sim racing setup casting shadows across the walls. The hum of his game filled the silence, the sharp sound of tires screeching on a digital track drowning out the soft, broken sobs escaping your lips.

You lay curled up on the bed, your back turned to him. Salty tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the pillow. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore—was it sadness? frustration? or just the aching emptiness that was growing inside you?

You knew he could hear you. He always could.

But just like every other night, he turned up the volume of his game. Hinting an unspoken message: I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to deal with you.

And gosh, it hurts.

He always does this. He rarely talks to you despite living in the same apartment. As if there is a big wall between the two of you. As if both of you have two different worlds. His priorities had shifted, and you weren’t part of them anymore. Gaming. Racing. Nights out with friends. Work. Everything came before you. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew deep down that he just didn’t care the way he used to.

He used to act differently when your relationship started. You missed the time when it felt like his world revolved around you, when he made you feel like you were the most important thing in his life, but now you don't know when or what went wrong. You can only wonder what happened to the man you love.

Your friends are all begging you to leave.

"Wake up, Y/N!" "You deserve better." "What else is there to hold on to?"

It started to become obvious that the things Lando has been doing have been affecting you to the point that you started seeing a therapist, desperately trying to piece yourself back together.

But the worst part is that Lando never even noticed.

You knew that this was not healthy. You knew you should leave. But things are easier said than done.

The thought of walking away—of starting over, of loving someone who wasn’t him—made your stomach twist. It felt impossible, unbearable.

Despite everything, despite the pain, you still wanted to stay. You clung to the hope that one day he would wake up and realize what he was losing. That he would see you again—as someone he once loved. Someone worth fighting for.

So you stayed. Because letting go felt harder than holding on.

It’s a big day in Abu Dhabi—the moment that will decide the 2024 Formula 1 constructors' championship. McLaren almost has an even tie with Ferrari; therefore, they desperately needed Lando to win. So you take your time to self-soothe after what happened last night.

"You just don’t understand, Y/N. Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m a busy person?" Lando exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, I’m sorry—if bar-hopping with your friends and getting all over the media with random girls counts as 'busy,' then I must be such an idiot for not taking the hint!"

His jaw tightened. "Those pictures are from a long time ago," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" you said amusingly while scoffing.

Silence stretched between you before you finally snapped. "All I ever wanted was for you to notice me! To talk to me! Hell, to actually see me! Is that really too much to ask?"

Lando ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I don’t understand, Y/N. I’m giving you all the attention I can."

But it was never enough. It never felt like enough.

You sighed in defeat, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you wouldn’t understand."

This morning, like every morning, you glared at him with storms in your eyes. But he didn’t notice—he never did. You wondered how numb he could be to not feel your grip on him slipping away. How could you love someone and not see them breaking right in front of you?

All you needed was his reassurance—that despite everything happening, despite the way he treated you, you were still the one he loved. But every time you brought it up, he twisted it around, making it seem like you were the problem. Every conversation turned into an argument instead of a solution, and with each fight, your resentment only grew.

One night, you needed him more than ever. After a brutal argument with your parents, they kicked you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. Lando was the only person you could turn to—the one person you thought you could rely on.

"I tried calling you. I rang your doorbell over and over and over again, but you never answered." Your voice wavered, frustration and hurt bleeding through. "So tell me, Lando—where were you that night?"

"I was sleeping!" he insisted, his tone defensive.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Sleeping? Really?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I literally saw the notification on your Twitch that you were live with Max!" Your voice cracked as anger and betrayal surged through you. "You left me outside your house for hours!"

Lando exhaled sharply. "Maybe it’s your fault for always expecting too much," he muttered under his breath, but you caught every word.

Your stomach twisted as you stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe..." His voice became louder. "It’s my fault for not being enough for you," he added, his voice flat.

"Or maybe it's our fault for not making this relationship work properly."

That was your breaking point.

Lando won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, securing McLaren’s victory in their fierce battle against Ferrari for the Constructors' Championship. You were proud—proud that your boyfriend had claimed another Grand Prix win, proud that his team had finally won. But deep down, you knew the truth: tonight, he wouldn’t be celebrating with you.

You often envied the girlfriends of other drivers—the way they rushed into their arms after a win, how they spent their victories surrounded by their girlfriends and families. But for you, it was different. You longed for that warmth.

Now, it was time to pose for the cameras, to put on a dazzling smile and make your relationship look picture-perfect—at least on the surface. In the photos, you were the devoted girlfriend, the perfect couple. But behind your fake smile, a storm raged inside you.

You had always been there for him—through his highs and lows, his victories and defeats. But when it was you who needed him, he was nowhere to be found.

And as the flashes of cameras captured the illusion of happiness, a sinking realization settled in your chest. You couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep giving all of yourself to someone who never gave anything back.

One thing was clear tonight—you were done hurting yourself for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.

You took a taxi back to the hotel alone, your vision blurred with tears as the city lights streaked past. The moment you stepped into the room, you began packing—hands trembling, heart racing. You hadn’t planned this, but deep down, you knew it was inevitable. It wasn’t just impulsive; it was necessary.

As you zipped up your suitcase, your fingers brushed against a worn polaroid tucked between your clothes. Your favorite picture—back when love still felt easy, when he still looked at you like you were his entire world. You held it for a moment, your thumb tracing the edges, debating whether to take it with you.

But some things belonged to the past.

Flipping it over, you picked up the hotel pen and, with a heavy heart, wrote your final words.

I love you forever, Lando. I'm forever grateful. —Y/N

You placed the polaroid on the bed, letting it rest there. Then, with a deep breath, you grabbed your bags and walked to the door.

Before stepping out, you turned back for one last glance at everything you're about to leave behind. All of the memories you and Lando had, either good or bad.

Just like that, you walked out of his life, and with every step, the weight you had carried for so long finally began to lift.

[darkcherryharry]

praise you like i should - 2

singer!harry x you wordcount: 4.4k summary: after harry secretly got y/n off right next to his friends, he shows you just how much he loves you for it contains: smut, pussy worship, squirting, multiple orgasms, p+v sex, unprotected sex, let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged! a/n: hope you like! accepting prompt suggestions if you have any part one here 🍒 (you don't need to read it to read this one 🍒)

You could barely keep it together during dinner. 

Thinking about how Harry had fingered you and made you come right next to his friends had you on the edge of your seat, and you knew Harry wasn’t much better. 

When the movie had finally ended you both made your excuses - probably a bit too quickly - and booked it inside of the hotel to get to the restaurant. 

You knew you wanted to keep the moral high ground of making Harry sit through dinner but at this point it felt like a waste, knowing that underneath the table his cock was probably at least still half hard because it had hardly gone down for the rest of the time you sat on top of it watching the movie. 

You tried to keep it together, you really did, but once your dessert came out you couldn’t resist a little tease. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to rile him up just before you were going to head back upstairs.

“Do you still have your little problem?” you asked Harry curiously, balancing the teaspoon from your mousse between your lips.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you as if he didn’t know what you were talking about, but his cheeks being pink told a different story. 

“I don’t have any little problems,” Harry mused, cocking his head to the side. “Big problems, maybe,” he offered.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, having another melt in your mouth spoonful as you looked him over, making sure to bat your lashes as you did. 

“Alright, do you still have your big, massive problem?” You teased, putting on a bit of a husky sexy voice to emphasise the word and causing Harry to burst out in a loud laugh, drawing the attention of a table near you.

He slapped his hand over mouth and had the decency to look embarrassed, giving you the evil eyes before making a small apologetic smile at the other diners and waving them off. 

Once they were successfully distracted he eyed you again, cocking an eyebrow.

“You could find out, if you wanted,” Harry suggested. 

You looked at him curiously, wondering what he was suggesting considering you were sitting on opposite sides of the table before you realised you could work something out. 

As you slipped your heel off of your foot you raised your leg slowly, feeling around for his lower leg before making contact and dragging your pointed toe up the inside.

You kept your eyes locked on Harry as you travelled along his inner thigh, making sure to take it slow as you teased him, even taking another bite of your mousse so that he didn’t think he had your whole attention.

Eventually you reached the apex of his thighs, so you pressed the bottom of your foot against the front of his crotch. You tested how firm he was underfoot, definitely feeling some resistance and that he wasn’t completely soft. 

You watched from across the table as his lips parted when you started to rub your foot slowly against him, your smile turning wicked when you saw his perfect little pouty lips part and his eyes blow out so his pupil almost took over. 

“Doesn’t feel like that big of a problem to me,” you shrugged, still toying with him as he took a ragged breath. 

“You’re such a brat,” Harry replied, so you started to pull your foot away only for his hand to reach under the table at lightning speed and grab your ankle. “You really wanna walk out of here hard?” you asked him incredulously, letting your foot be guided back to his cock as he shuffled forward in his seat to seek more pressure. 

“Don’t care,” Harry replied, his voice a bit more gravelly than it had been before. “Worth it. I’m not gonna come for ages, anyway. Been too hard too long so I won’t last. Need to get you off a handful of times first. Need to worship you,” Harry replied earnestly as he ground himself subtly against your foot. 

“Baby,” you breathed, shaking your head at his desperation. “You’re gone, huh?” 

“Only for you,” Harry answered, glancing around as he squeezed your ankle. “Can we get out of here?” 

“You haven’t even finished your dessert,” you reasoned, but you were hardly against the idea. 

“You’ll taste better. I need you,” Harry responded, finally letting go of your ankle so that you could get your shoe on. He reached both hands beneath the table, presumably adjusting himself to be decent so you could leave, before quickly standing up to take your hand and guide you to your room.

And that’s how you’d wound up here, Harry pressing you against the front door the minute you got inside and locking it while he used his hips to pin you. 

“You look so beautiful tonight, y/n,” Harry murmured to you. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your stomach, his hands grabbing your hips and your waist as he dove in to kiss your neck. 

“Thank you H,” you replied, making a small moan when he roughly grabs your hip and the side of your arse. 

“I need you so badly. I can’t believe you let me make you come while we were just sitting with the band,” Harry insisted. It was like he was all around you, crowding your senses as you managed to get enough wherewithal to bring your hands up to lace around his neck. 

“Yeah? Did you like doing that?” you asked coyly as Harry moaned and rocked himself against you, flattening you against the door completely. 

“Fucking hell I did. Thought I was going to come just from how you felt around my fingers. You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry insisted, starting to tug at your dress and ruck it upwards, so he had handfuls of it and your thighs were exposed.

“Please let me have you, baby, I need you,” Harry begged softly, kissing down your neck and then onto your chest. Your dress was low cut enough that he could kiss between your breasts, his mouth hot and wet against your skin as he sucked the top of one in a noisy kiss.

“We’re barely in the room, H,” you complained, but it was half hearted as he rucked up your dress further and exposed your panties. He’d not given you any time to change, so they were still wet from earlier - and honestly from most of the dinner, since every little thing your boyfriend did turned you on.

“I don’t care. I need your pussy. Please y/n,” Harry insisted, moaning as he kissed your tits one more time before pushing your dress up higher, exposing your stomach. He started to sink slowly to his feet and dragged his lips over your torso, moaning and kissing and trying to convince you to stay. 

“You really are desperate, aren’t you H?” you asked him softly, watching him lick over your belly and suck on your hips before pressing his face directly against the triangle of your panties. He moaned on an inhale, his lips parting and you watched the sharp angle of his jaw as he greedily licked the fabric to get even just a trace of your wet. 

“More than. Want me to beg? I’ll beg you y/n. Your pussy’s not like anything else in the world. It’s the gate to heaven. It tastes so sweet and I’m the luckiest person in the whole world because it’s all mine,” Harry begged. 

“Please let me eat you out. I need to taste you. Need to make you come over and over so you know how mad you drive me, how desperate I am for you,” he added, moaning emphatically as he grabbed your thigh and slung it over his own shoulder so you were slightly more exposed. 

“Oh my god, Harry,” you mumbled, overwhelmed with how pretty his green eyes looked when he his mouth was on your cunt and begging for a taste. “Okay, okay, you can do it here,” you granted, his hand that remained on your thigh squeezing tightly. 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Harry responded, turning his head to kiss your inner thigh and then lick it, sucking to make a small mark and nosing his way back up towards your pussy. 

He then licked over the panties again, licking lower so he was closer to your hole than your clit and moaning to himself as he soaked your panties as if they weren’t already basically wet. 

“You taste so amazing. Do you care about these panties?” Harry asked you, and as soon as you shook your head no, he reached up with both hands and pulled firmly at the waistband to rip them apart, rather than remove your thigh from his shoulder.

You were secretly glad, both because it was hot and because Harry’s supportive weight under your thigh was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling and he’d hardly even started.

Harry desperately pulled at the panties so they travelled down your other thigh, enough so that you were out and exposed. Your dress was coming down almost over his head now that he’d let go of it, so you grabbed a handful and pulled it up, giving him some room to work with but also making it so that you could see him. 

He’d not even had the chance to take any of his own clothes off yet, still fully dressed in his trousers and button up you’d insisted he changed into, seeing as you were on a date and it was a nice restaurant, of course. 

“I love you,” Harry insisted earnestly once he caught sight of your pussy properly, pressing a kiss straight to your pubic bone. “I love your pussy. I love making you feel good, you’re so perfect,” Harry insisted, whispering his praise against your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could feel the throb of your blood pumping in your clit, the teasing and the waiting driving you insane, even if his worship was making your heart feel full your arousal was definitely taking over. 

“Harry, please,” you whined softly, watching his eyes flicker up at you and his smile turn just a touch deadly before he leant in closer and rested his lips against your labia. 

“Please what, my angel?” he asked, his breath hot as he spoke and you squirmed as he started to press kisses over where you split open, the promise not quite enough stimulation to do anything more than tease further.

“Need your tongue,” you responded, gasping when Harry sucked lightly on your labia, like he might on your bottom lip when you were kissing. 

“Of course, my love. Anything for you,” Harry responded, moaning softly before tipping his head down so he could get right where you were wettest. He stuck his tongue between your lips and licked a fat stripe through you, making you cry out in pleasure and your free hand fly to grab his hair. 

“Oh fuck, Harry, yeah, just like that,” you encouraged, holding his head in place so he couldn’t escape quite so easily.

You felt the intrusion of his wet tongue again, sliding easily against you and his fingertips digging in where they were grabbing the fleshiest parts of your thighs. Then he went for it, licking and sucking like he was ravenous and this was the last meal he’d ever have. 

The sounds he was making were borderline ridiculous, wet and slurping with desperation as he fucked you with his tongue and got your wet all over his cheeks. You doubled over in pleasure as he played with you exactly how you liked it, and it was only after a long while of focusing on your hole that he came up for air.

Harry gasped loudly, his breath heaving but he barely got a mouthful or two in before going back for more, his mouth working its way slowly and surely upwards and towards your clit. 

As soon as his lips wrapped around it he sucked the small bundle of nerves, making you moan even louder and your hand grip tightly in his hair. 

“Harry, fuck, please,” you moaned, your body spasming as he licked fat stripes over your clit instead, clearly wanting everything to be as wet as possible.

“D’you think you could squirt on me?” Harry asked in a gravelly tone, sucking your clit again slowly as if that would help you answer and not just completely distract you.

“Um, uh,” you stammered. He’d made you do it in the past, but it didn’t always work, so you weren’t quite sure if you could do it on command. “I can try,” 

“Perfect,” Harry praised, running his tongue through the length of your pussy a few more times for good measure before he properly locked on to your clit, starting to suck on it rhythmically and run his tongue around in circles to possibly drive you mad.

You’d made the mistake of telling Harry your favourite toy to use when he was gone was your rosebud clit sucker, and boy had he done his research to try and replicate it. It was even better though, because Harry’s mouth was warm and wet and he could somehow read exactly what your body wanted.

“Oh my fucking god,” you cried out, thumping your head back against the door as you arched your hips to angle yourself more into Harry’s mouth. Your breathing started to get laboured, and even though it was so hot earlier, it was so nice now to be able to be as loud as you wanted. 

Harry was relentless in his pleasure, and when the crest of your orgasm started to get closer you concentrated your energy into bearing down, just like you had the few other times Harry had made you squirt. It felt like an intense pressure, building and building inside of you and when Harry did something that felt borderline illegal with his tongue you started to come.

Much to your relief you felt - and heard - yourself squirt in a gush between your legs. The sensation of release amplified your orgasm tenfold, and though you were starting to thrash about in overwhelm of pleasure, Harry managed to stay locked right on your clit as you rode the waves of your orgasm though.

You panted and whined, your body starting to twitch towards the end when he still hadn’t let up and you weakly pushed his head away to not much avail.

“Harry,” you panted, your legs feeling so weak that if Harry wasn’t holding you up you absolutely would have sunk to the ground. He let go of your clit - thank god - but that didn’t stop him from licking you lower and sucking desperately to get the taste.

“You’re so fucking sexy. Need you to come again,” Harry insisted, moaning to himself as he cleaned you up, licking where you’d dripped down your thigh before coming back up near your clit and sucking again.

“Ah,” you cried out, tugging his hair properly and finally managing to look down at him as you pulled him back.

Harry’s face was wet. You hadn’t realised you’d squirted that much, but the front of his shirt and even his trousers were soaked all because of you. 

“Please, y/n. That was everything. I’ve never felt more turned on in my life. I need to make you come again, you deserve it,” Harry begged, licking his lips and staring up at you with wild eyes as you kept a firm grip on his hair. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, clearing your throat and blinking a few times before nodding.

“Okay, but gentle,” you insisted. 

“I can do gentle. Thank you baby,” Harry insisted as you let go of the tight grip of his hair and instead carded your hand through it softly, admiring how insane he was for you and feeling warm low in your belly.

Harry leaned in slower this time, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he extended his tongue for a cursory flick against your clit, clearly testing the waters as he pushed around until he got direct access. He circled it slowly with an open mouth, the light sensation driving you just as wild as the intense sucks had now that you had already come once.

“That’s better,” you praised, so Harry smiled and pressed in against you once more, continuing the light and gentle turns of his tongue. You felt his hand sneak around, a more guttural moan leaving your lips as he sunk two of his fingers inside of your pussy at once. 

He didn’t thrust them or anything, just curling them to touch your clit from the inside and turn circles against it like he had on the bus. That combined with his gently tongue on your clit had your inner thighs starting to shake, so Harry used his free hand to press you into the door so you were pinned for support.

Your second orgasm - or your third, you supposed, if you counted a few hours ago - started to build low in your gut, getting imminently closer when Harry closed his lips carefully around your clit and started to suck again. It was almost too much but he made sure it was just perfect, the lightest little ministrations combined with his long fingers as if he were drawing it out of you and knew everything you were feeling.

Even though you were expecting it it still somehow snuck up on you, rocking through your body and making your hips buck up into Harry’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. It was slower and slightly less intense, but made your toes curl nevertheless and had you wondering when your shoe had managed to fall off. 

This time you got overstimulated quickly after your orgasm faded so you pulled his mouth away quicker, looking down at him somewhat desperately. 

“H,” you mumbled, not sure what you needed but Harry seemed to get the picture. He slipped his fingers out of you and guided your thigh off of his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on it as he got to his feet and started to support you with both hands.

“I got you, baby. You’re fucking amazing. You’re my star, baby, that was… god,” Harry rambled quietly, kissing over your neck before kissing up to your face. He was still wet from your pussy but you didn’t really care, happy enough to kiss him back lazily and be felt up as you remained pinned to the door. 

“Felt so good,” you insisted when you could get a word in, letting Harry adore you some more and feeling quite lazy and weak from your multiple orgasms, almost slumping all your weight onto Harry. 

“Can I fuck you y/n? Right here?” Harry asked you softly once you’d managed to catch your breath. The idea of it sounded nice, really, Harry filling you up. You knew he wouldn’t last too long given how hard he felt, but it would be the perfect end to this round of sex for the evening. Then he could clean you up in the shower, maybe a bath for round two, and then bed for round three. 

If you were lucky you’d wake up in the middle of the night for round four. You had to make use of the hotel room, after all. 

“Yeah, baby. Can’t stand though,” you pouted, the words barely leaving your lips before Harry reached behind you and scooped you up. He used his hips to pin you as he adjusted your dress again to give him the best access, then he eyed you with a grin.

“You know I’ll look after you, darling,” Harry told you, reaching for the straps of your dress and guiding them down your shoulders. He admired your bra, tracing the edges of it softly and taking his time even though you knew he’d be dying for it. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’ll never be more blessed than I am being with you,” Harry insisted, reaching beneath you both to unzip his trousers and let them fall down his legs, getting his underwear down enough too and before you knew it he had one arm supporting your weight and the other guiding his cock to swipe against your pussy. 

He looked a state, his wet shirt and his mussed up hair. But he was beautiful, and he was going to fuck you good, so you never really minded in the first place.

“You’re beautiful too, baby,” you encouraged to Harry, gripping his waist with your thighs. You reached behind yourself, balancing against the door with your shoulder blades to give you enough room to unhook your bra and swiftly took it off, dropping it to the floor purely so Harry could enjoy your tits while he fucked you. 

“Fuck, y/n. You drive me crazy,” Harry insisted, finally tilting up to sink into you and letting you slide down on his cock. He got two big handfuls of your arse to keep you in place, and you watched as a serene expression melted all over his face from finally getting his dick wet.

“Told you, it’s heaven,” Harry insisted, leaning in to kiss you slowly. He stayed still inside of you to let you adjust, a hand wandering up to your tit and ever so softly circling your nipple until it hardened. 

“Yeah? You think so?” you asked Harry back, kissing him slowly and lazily for as long as he’d let you. 

“Know so. You ready?” Harry asked you softly.

“Yeah, babe,” you answered, but you still gasped when he gripped your thighs harder to pin you properly and started to fuck you against the wall. The first few thrusts was all he gave you to adjust before he started fucking you hard and fast, jerking your body up with each thrust as he rolled inside of you again and again.

His cock felt amazing, the perfect thickness and length and it was the only cock you wanted to take for the rest of your life.

You moaned and tipped your head back, deciding he deserved a treat so you moved one hand to your tit and grabbed it for his view, playing for a few moments with your nipple until the pleasure slowly turned into something you were just doing for yourself.

Harry didn’t seem to mind though, his eyes glued on you as he thrusted in and out of your pussy, his biceps looking swollen under his shirt. You wished you’d had time to get him to take it off so you could see them properly as he held you up against the wall, but you felt rest assured you’d see them later.

You felt them out instead, squeezing the firm muscle and making small little noises every time Harry got really deep. The gravity of the situation really added something, like when you rode him, making him feel like he was really splitting you open. 

“Gonna come in me, baby?” you tempted Harry, looking him over as you kept playing with your own tit, feeling the other one bounce on each thrust.

“Oh my god, yeah. You gonna come?” Harry panted, clearly getting a work out from fucking you like this, but you knew he had the stamina to work it out. 

You nodded, squeezing down on his cock with your pelvic floor and messing with his rhythm for a second or two while you made yourself tighter. 

“Yeah, think so. Come on your cock so you’ll fill me up,” you whispered to him, arching your back and relaxing yourself so that Harry’s thrusts could make you come. 

“Yeah, yeah, please, baby,” Harry begged you. You felt like you’d have tiny little bruises from his fingers littered up your thigh tomorrow but it hardly mattered, because right now you felt so good.

You really committed to this orgasm, letting the repetitive sensation of Harry’s cock sliding in and out of you guide you there. You kept playing with your sensitive nipple, squeezing and pulling it out and closing your eyes for a moment as you got yourself closer and closer.

Once you opened your eyes again, half lidded, all it really took to push you over the edge was to see how your boyfriend was staring reverently at you, the desperation in his eyes like he’d never known such bliss. You kept your eyes on him as you started to come again, crying out and clenching down on his cock firmly and stilting his rhythm again. 

Harry fucked up into you harder, moaning himself and pressing closer so he could bury his head in your neck and grapple at your hips. 

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Harry grunted, and you could feel from his sharp, slow thrusts that he was coming inside of you. You moaned and did your best to stay clenching on him, though your pussy was fluttering anyway from the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Harry’s breath was hot against your neck as he kissed you, and you felt physically a bit gross, but you were properly sated. You didn’t think it could ever get any better than what Harry gave you, since it felt like the world. 

“I love you baby,” you whispered to him once he stilled, still inside of you for now but you knew he was through his orgasm too.

“I love you too, my love,” Harry responded, picking his head up to kiss your lips. “Words aren’t enough,” he assured you. 

“Yeah,” you answered blissfully, giving him another kiss back and tilting your head up as you tried to catch your breath. “You’ll have to keep doing this to show me in actions instead,” you breathed. 

Harry giggled at you, fucking you just minutely with his half hard cock as if to teach you a lesson. 

“I can do that,”

[harunayuuka2060]

Malleus: ...

MC: *is feeling hopeless after their extensive research, as most of the results pointed to the impossibility of returning to their world*

Malleus: Child of man.

MC: Yes...

Malleus: Don’t give up yet. These are ancient records, and they shouldn’t be enough to determine the outcome.

MC: ...

MC: There’s a lot going on in my head right now. It might sound funny, but I’m already thinking about Plan B and Plan C in case I end up permanently stuck here.

MC: I mean, it’s not like I have much to lose... Haha...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Still, I’m telling you not to give up. Who knows? The answer might reveal itself when the right opportunity comes along.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* Wow, your horn got wrecked, and suddenly you’ve become so wise.

Malleus: Is that how you normally show appreciation for advice?

MC: I have a broken sense of humor—just deal with it.

Malleus: *pouts*

MC: *laughs*

Silver and Sebek: Prefect!

MC: Eh? Oh! Hey!

Sebek: Are you running an errand, human?

MC: *sigh* Yeah.

Silver: We're here to help.

MC: Huh? Really? But why?

Sebek: We noticed that Grim attended class alone, so we figured you might need a little assistance! Not that Grim has ever been much help to you, anyway!

MC: Hey, don't diss Grim.

Sebek: Hmph!

Silver: Prefect, are there any places you still need to go?

MC: Yup. Crowley wants me to pick up his order from the newly opened pastry shop.

Silver: I see. Let's go.

Sebek: And while we’re at it, you should get some for yourself too!

Silver: It'll be our treat.

MC: ...Okay. *grins* I'll order some for Grim too, okay?

MC, Silver, and Sebek: ...

*They stumbled upon a group of Draconia enthusiasts discussing the dream world, and it just so happened that they were talking about MC. The three couldn’t help but eavesdrop.*

"They said that person contributed a lot to saving everyone."

"Nah, I doubt that. I’m sure all they did was tag along."

"That’s right, that’s right! Of course, Night Raven College wouldn’t want them to feel left out, even if they didn’t do anything!"

Sebek: These humans— *about to confront the group*

MC: *pulls him back*

Sebek: What are you—

MC: Let's not waste our time here.

Sebek: But— *then noticed their expression*

MC: ...

Sebek: ...

Sebek: *groans in frustration* Fine.

Silver: ...

Silver: Prefect, are you alright?

MC: Yes. It's their opinion. I can't do anything about it.

Silver and Sebek: ...

[laundroodls]

No, because I NEED fics where Babs somehow kills Joker or where she is at least responsible for him dying. Like, imagine after some crazy explosion (set off by the Joker himself or smth idk) and the Joker didn't get away fast enough. Picture this :

Joker is battered brutally, laying in a puddle of blood in some alley. My man is holding on for dear LIFE, and then Babs just rolls in the alley because she heard a noise. The Joker and Babs hold eye contact. Then -

Joker: "Please.. save me..."

Babs: "Lol. No."

Joker: "Won't it weigh on your -"

Babs: "No. I believed you should've been dead a long time ago, even before Red Hood showed up. Do everyone here in Gotham a favor and die."

Babs, shrugging: "It'll be the most useful thing you've actually done."

Babs, rolling away as if she never came out in the first place:

Joker, dying:

Joker: *dies*

-----

Don't even get me STARTED on how Bruce would be running himself crazy trying to figure out who the hell killed Joker (or let him die) while Babs is just - there. Observing. Every time he gets close, Babs forges another piece of "evidence" that leads him far away from thinking it's her - because let's be real. This man resurrected Joker. She does not want or need to deal with him when he finds out it was her.

The rest of the Batfam?

Dick was appalled at first, before he was slowly manipulated and gaslit into thinking it was the best choice (cough TIMOTHY DRAKE cough JASON TODD cough BARBARA GORDON cough). He even provides distractions for Bruce whenever Babs can't forge evidence in time.

Jason literally threw a party the minute he heard. He invited everyone on the block to his apartment to celebrate Joker dying. And Babs? C'mon. He's her biggest cheerleader and fan now!

Tim would be right there with Babs to forge evidence as well. He even has backup plans just in case Bruce starts to suspect them.

Damian would just scowl, "Tt", but he would also distract Bruce if Babs or Tim couldn't put out the fake evidence quick enough. Damian and Dick practically tag team it.

Duke is new to the whole family, but Joker was responsible for how his parents ended up! Could you really blame him?! He's also on the distraction team, but he also plants the fake evidence if Cass or Steph can't do it.

Speaking of Cass and Steph, they're in charge of planting the fake evidence. Cass usually hides the big ones due to her stealth, and Steph hides the small ones.

Oh, Alfred? He immediately chose Babs' side (shh let me be delulu). Joker had killed Jason after all. He supposes Joker had it coming, and he's been stalling Bruce of investigating the case as well.

Basically, the entirety of Batfam (besides Bruce) defending and helping Babs to hide how she just lets Joker die.

I know my writing is shyt, but I genuinely need a fic of this scenario. Did I read the fics where Dick/Bruce/Tim kill Joker? Yes. Did I eat them up every single time? Yes. But do I want to see my girl Babs (or Cass) killing Joker? YES. I NEED IT IN MY LIFE. WRITERS. PLEASE. I BEG OF THEE. WRITE THIS. I KNOW Y'ALL CAN DO BETTER THAN I EVER COULD. SO PLEASE. I'LL TAKE ANYTHING PLEASE. PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE -

There are so many Dick, Bruce, or Tim kills the Joker fics on AO3, meanwhile Barbara was the one talking about how The Joker should be the exception to the No Kill Rule years before Red Hood Jason even existed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The night is long and torturous. When sleep comes, it's accompanied by the same man that invaded your waking hours. Thor is like a shadow, following you from one plane to the next. You wake in a sweat, disoriented and dull.

What are you going to do? Even if he wasn't a dangerous felon, you're no match for him. He's like if someone made a bear human. Despite how nice he can be, you fear the flip side of the coin.

You force yourself to get up as Andy's voice echoes beneath the thunder of Thor's. Your mom would flip if she found out. And do nothing. It's your problem, you're grown, just don't bring that around your siblings. She's with Andy for a reason; several.

A day off would typically be an occasion for delight. Everything is off. Everything is tainted by the consequences of your stupid action.

The idea of eating makes you want to puke. Getting washed up is a task on its own. You read about Marie Antoinette in her cell and the looming threat of the guillotine. Is this how she felt?

Light blue jeans and a tiered lilac top. It would be cute in any other context.

You don't know when but you know he's coming. He promised. He made many promises and you never took those seriously. Now you know just how committed he is.

It's absurd. He has to see that right? You're too young. You're naive. He needs someone who can relate to him. Someone who isn't terrified.

The doorbell rings as you pace in circles. Shoot. Ugh. You see him on the little smart screen.

You freeze for a minute. Fight or flight has you stuck in the middle. You make yourself move. You have no fight but also nowhere to run.

You open the door and let out a gurgling noise. He's surprised you again. Not as frightfully as that first encounter, but still. Thor wears a tidy button up in a shade of pale blue and navy slacks. His hair is braided along the sides and drawn back into a low pony. He smells like fancy pine cologne. Your eyes go wide.

"My queen," he offers you a tiny gift bag, dwarfed by his large hands.

"Um, hi," you take it by the ribbon handles with a trouble furrow in your brows.

"While you always look stunning, might I ask you to change into something more...than casual?" He smiles sheepishly. "I have many surprises and I would have you in style."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I just... threw this on," you look down.

"It is no trouble. I only thought you would want to match your gift," he gestures to the gift bag.

"Ermmmmm," you drag out the fizzy murmur.

You reach into the bag and take out the ivory box. Your stomach storms furiously. You pull open the lid on the hinges to reveal a ruby necklace. The heart-shaped stone is trimmed in diamonds. You blink and babble.

"It's so... pretty, but I can't--"

"My queen, please, it would be a great honour to have you wear it," he insists. "Might I?"

He opens his large palm. You stare at the deep lines and gulp. You carefully pull the necklace free and hand it over.

You turn and he steps closer to drape it around your neck. It rests along your clavicle as he clasps it. You're no great judge but you think it's real. Did he steal it?

"Thank, er... I'll go find something to go with it," you draw away as he tickles your neck.

"As ever, I shall patiently await my queen," he assures.

The bag crinkles as you face him again, "can I meet you at the truck? I don't want you standing out here that long."

"It is no trouble--"

"Please, I would feel bad," you plead.

He touches his chest, "aw, my queen, you do treat me well. Yes, I shall wait for you there."

You nod and watch him go before you retreat inside. You hurry to the guest room and shove away the bag. You sift through your bag. You didn't really bring anything fancy... Wait.

You trip out of the room and head down to the basement. Your mother holds onto everything. You clamour down to the basement and push through the hangers. It's not your fave and she chose it, but your semi-formal dress hangs amid the forgotten thread. You really don't think it goes with the necklace but it will have to do.

You change quickly and steel some of your mom's shoes and a thin white shawl. You probably don't look any more ready than you feel. As you come out, clutching your purse against your side, you catch your breath. You lock the door and brace yourself.

You come down the walk as Thor stands up straight from leaning on his truck and touches his hair to check that it's in place. Oh gosh, what've you done?

This man is delusional. Sure, you helped build that fantasy, but for him to take it this far? You feel sick.

"My queen," he opens the door.

You smile and let him help you into the truck. The dread settles with you in the seat. He shuts the door gently as you look down at your hands. You busy yourself by buckling the seat belt.

He gets in and you peer down the street with wide eyes. He reaches over to pet your knee, "that colour is wonderful on you. You always are perfect, darling." He leans over and kisses your cheek. He squeezes your knee with his large hand, fingers swirling on the bare skin. He growls. "How I dreamt of this. Of you. When I was locked up. But now I'm free, we are free, and together."

You put your hand on his and squeak, "Thor."

"I understand now. It is new to you. I wish you'd said. But now I can take it slow for you, my kitten."

He kisses your cheek again and rescinds his hand. He grips the wheels and you watch his knuckles pale. Your throat constricts as if his fingers are around your neck.

"Um..." you shrink into the seat, "where are we going?"

He chuckles, "it's a surprise."

You twitch. This is how those true crime shows start. Your lips tremble but you keep your smile in place. He pulls away from the curb.

"Okay, but er, you know, my stepdad is very... strict and I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on the house, so I can't stay out long," you explain as you mash your palms together.

"Your stepdad. Hm. Yes, he seems controlling."

"Well, you know, he's just... particular," you shrug.

"Mm, it makes sense," he nods.

"Makes sense?"

"Yes, why you thought to try to block me. To deny our love," he clucks. "You speak of this man as he is. A dictator. Well, I am your king, he will not keep me from my queen, so you needn't worry for him."

You don't argue. It's a better explanation than you had and if he knew the truth...

"I don't know the man and yet he makes my blood hot. I could throttle any who would stifle you, my queen," he snarls. "As I have sworn to myself to always keep you safe. And close."

You cringe. You remember his long rambling emails. You skimmed a lot of those flowery monologues. You assumed he read a lot of poetry in jail. What else did he have time for?

"Please, be calm, and yourself," he glances over at you. "No need to be scared, my queen. Not ever."

🩷

Your confusion mounts as you watch the grand house rise before you. The property is maintained; trimmed hedges, marble statues, a fountain, a drooping blossom tree akin to some whimsical fantasy movie.

It's unlike anywhere you've ever been. How would Thor know of this place? Are you trespassing?

You peek at him nervously as he pulls his bright red truck in behind the luxurious ivory and gold car. You search around for anyone to come calling intruder. Thor gets out as you're too reluctant to move further. He comes around and opens the door. As you step down, his hand around yours, his name booms in the air.

An older man with white hair marches over in a velvet jacket over a sleep shirt. He's eccentric with his long white hair and bird-headed can.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns," the man proclaims, "and he has brought... fresh meat?"

You squirm as you look between them.

"Father, she is not to be spoken of such," Thor warns.

His father? Your mouth falls open.

"Odin," the man offers his hand. "And you must be wildly out of your mind."

You open and close your lips. He laughs and you finally unclench your hand to shake his. He squeezes firmly and brings your hand up to kiss the back.

"So, has she read the court report yet? Is she aware?" Odin chirps.

"Father, I am reformed," Thor snatches your arm back. "You needn't mock me so. I've done my time. She knows this."

"Does she? She is rather young. How much can she know?"

Your brows rise up and down. You're speechless. This is both awkward and humiliating.

"Come then, your mother has been fussing over breakfast all morning. It is why I had to flee the house. You get your madness from her," Odin mutters as he turns.

He walks airily despite the cane, swinging it more than he uses it. Thor holds your hand as he pulls you along. Maybe your family isn't so weird.

Odin whistles as he swings the door open and enters. Thor squeezes and you fear he might dislocate something. You squirm and he lets up.

"Oh, the love of my life, where are you?" Odin calls out, his voice echoing along the high ceilings.

Your eyes rove around the extravagant decor. Refined but not stuffy. Elegant with subtlety. You could only aspire to be any of those things.

You can't help but wonder how he got locked up. By the looks of it, his family is wealthy. Better off than your own. Your mother is comfortably middle class but she's stingy as heck. Andy is worse.

"In here," a trill sounds through the large doorway with the curling detail over the archway.

Odin strides through and Thor drags you in to see the older man kissing a blond woman on the cheek as she juggles a covered tray. "Oh, you rogue."

He purrs and keeps his arm around her as she sets her armful down. Her eyes brighten as she looks in your direction and they flick between you and Thor.

"Oh, my son! You've brought her!" She claps her oven mitts together. "And she is absolutely stunning."

She sweeps out of her husband's embrace and around the large square island. She brings the warm mitts to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your forehead. She holds you at arms length and admires you.

"My, my, so lovely," she praises. "And you're with my son?"

Thor grumbles, "mother."

"Well..." she shrugs and pulls away, then wraps her son in a hug. He wraps his arms around her as she turns her ear to his chest. She giggles as her green eyes flash. "His heart is racing. He must be in love."

"Mother," he gently nudges her away. "You're embarrassing me."

"I embarrass myself," she turns to you again, "Frigga, darling, and you?"

You peek up at Thor before you give your name. She repeats it, rolling it over her tongue.

"Just as beautiful as the rest of you," she turns and taps away in her heels. You don't know how a woman her age has so much energy. "Oh, and have you heard from Loki, Odi?"

"You know his excuses. Work. A very busy man," the white-haired patriarch shakes his head.

"My brother," Thor explains in a whisper.

You nod. Does it make much of a difference?

"My son tells me you've been a wonderful support. Gods know he has always been such a handful," Frigga arranges a silver tea pot and porcelain saucers on a tray. "Even after they put him away, oh, it was awful. When I called, they told me he was not permitted to take his calls." She hums in disappointment and sends Thor a sharp look. His shoulders slump. "I didn't raise him like that. I want you to know, I've only ever taught him to respect women and I do hope he treats you as well as you treat him."

"Mother, you know I would never," Thor insists.

"Oh, and you promised you would not go to prison. Yes, I see how that panned out," she sniffs. "Ah, but let us not cling to mistakes. Let us move on." She smiles at you as she lifts the tray. "I know, dear, that you will fix him. From what I hear of you, it cannot be any other way."

Heat crawls up your neck. What has Thor told them? How can you live up to expectations when you don't even know what they are?

"Um, may I help with that?" You offer as you near her.

"Oh, but you are a guest," she chimes.

"Really, it's no problem. All this food smells delicious. It must be a lot of work," you insist. "It's the least I can do."

You take the handles of the tray as she relents. You hold your smile and turn. You don't let the facade fall until you're out of the room. She calls after you that the dining room is left not right. You correct your path and bit the inside of your lip.

You're really not that helpful but you'll take the excuse to get away. If even just a few minutes.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Howdy, Sailor

CCF Spring Break Prompt: "I don't do shorts." | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: None | Tags: AU, Eddie Needs Shorts, Eddie Doesn't Wear Shorts, But The Salesclerk Is Awfully Handsome, Meet Cute

Eddie hates shopping. He'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else. Root canal? Sure.

"Just try these on!" Gareth says, lobbing a lump of fabric at him, hitting him square in the chest, and they are the wildest printed swim trunks he's ever seen.

"I don't do shorts," Eddie says, letting them fall to the ground, "especially not ones that loud."

He didn't realize a salesclerk was right there, until he reaches down to pick up the dropped merchandise off Eddie's boots, automatically folding them perfectly.

"Maybe you should," he says, and Eddie isn't following.

"Maybe I should what?" 

"Wear shorts," he says, and grins at Eddie. 

Eddie sort of feels like he's being made fun of, or maybe flirted with, he can't tell which. And it puts him off-kilter.

"Sorry, it was rude I dropped them," Eddie says. Because that much he does know. He was being rude.

"I have to clean up the dressing rooms, a pair on the floor out here is nothing," he says, and Eddie looks at his name tag. Steve.

"Dingus, I need help!" a girl calls out from behind the register, and Eddie watches as Steve smiles at him once more, before heading up her way.

"If you're done flirting," Gareth says, holding up a black pair of trunks that are longer than nearly everything else, a question in his eyes.

"Fine," Eddie says, snagging them from his hand.

He'll buy anything to get this over with. He wasn't on board for this outing, anyway. And he definitely hadn't signed up for shorts.

But he carries them to the register, where Steve picks them up, and looks them over.

"I don't think you're an extra large," Steve says, looking at the tag.

The girl looks him up and down, "He's not. Not unless you want to end up like the Coppertone Girl," Robin, her name tag reads, quips towards Eddie.

Goddamn it, Gareth.

"I thought these were my size?" Eddie accuses Gareth, and Gareth just shrugs. 

"C'mon, I'll help you find the right size," Steve says, and Eddie follows him, even if that feels embarrassing. 

"Are you planning a vacation?" Steve asks, making small talk.

"I'm kinda on one now? My friends want to go to the dive-in. At the beach," Eddie says. "They're showing Jaws. I'm going against my will."

"You don't like Jaws? That sounds fun," Steve asks.

"Like, no. It's fine. I'm just not a beach guy."

"What beach is doing dive-ins? I haven't heard about that," Steve questions.

"Oh, it's not here," Eddie says, "it's at Washington Park Beach. We're just here on spring break."

"You came to the beach and didn't bring trunks?"

"Don't judge me," Eddie teases, and Steve grins. 

Eddie looks back at the abysmal options, as Steve pulls another pair from the rack. The same black ones, "Medium or large?"

Eddie doesn't know, and shrugs. Doesn't really care. He'll never wear them again.

"Well, let's have you try them on."

Eddie wishes he'd just picked one, he doesn't want to try on clothes, but he still follows Steve.

In the dressing room, he sheds his boots and jeans, and pulls up the medium pair. They fit in the waist fine, but they're obscene in the crotch, and he laughs.

"Let me see," Steve says from the other side of the curtain. 

Eddie pulls it open, and Steve laughs, muttering, "Oh my, you're gonna need some bigger shorts."

It makes Eddie laugh, and before he pulls the curtain back closed, Steve slides two fingers into his waistband. Fingers touching his skin. Eddie stutters, stilling. He realizes he's seeing how they fit, but Eddie's sure his cheeks have reddened because of it.

"Yeah, the large should fit you better," he declares, and he's right. Looser everywhere, and that's absolutely preferred. 

He slides open the curtain, and Steve looks him up and down, then nods his approval. He doesn't take the measurement again, but Eddie wouldn't have been opposed to it, if he had. Eddie doesn't even know why his opinion means anything to him. This guy is a stranger, but he seems like the authority, even if Eddie knows he's likely just a minimum wage dude, pretending to know about the clothes.

"Much better," Steve says, and Eddie pulls the curtain closed again.

Jeff, Goodie and Gareth are all in the water, floating on tubes as the movie plays on the big screen, casting shadows all over the place in the dark.

Eddie's sitting on the edge of the rented boat, feet in the water.

He feels someone, or something, saddle right up next to him, rocking the boat, and he hopes to fucking hell it's not a shark. Are there sharks in Lake Michigan? He thinks not. So, he turns to mouth off, and finds Steve grinning at him. 

"Permission to come aboard?"

Eddie grins, and offers him a hand, pulling him up next to him. That's when he sees the bright, very short pair of trunks that he's sure came from the store he works in.

"Howdy, sailor," Steve says.

"Hi," Eddie says, suddenly shy, and pulls his hair over his mouth. Steve's here. Steve.

"The shorts look good. I kind of thought I'd turn up and you'd be in your jeans," Steve teases. 

"I thought about it, definitely," Eddie says, and he can't believe Steve came here. Like, he sounded interested, but Eddie figured that was just his job. Make the customer seem like whatever they're buying clothes for is the most interesting thing in the universe.

"I'm glad you didn't," Steve says, and taps him on the thigh. "Hope you don't mind that we came."

Eddie looks around, and sees Robin a few feet away, floating near a pretty blonde girl. 

"Not at all. Hope you're not scared of sharks."

Steve smiles, a grin that looks like he knows far more than Eddie knows, and he nudges Eddie's thigh with his own leg, "I don't know. A little biting has never scared me."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

Notes: Header image is from Dawson's Creek. That's where the dive-in Jaws showing idea came from.

[cherryinsalemverse]

Thinking about Jason Todd/Reader Soulmate AUs!!

Feel free to use them if you like any (I meant the writters! Not you AI using lazy *ss bushes!!) Tag me if you write it bc I'm gonna be reading them!!

Jason Todd and Reader meets on their dreams. Well, kinda 'dreams'. He is dead and she forgets everytime bc you are not allowed to see the afterlife as a person. He comes back and doesn't know who she is and why he knows her.

Jason Todd and Reader are tied by the red string of fate. Reader gains the ability to see/touch the red string and yanks Jason from the after life. She can use it to tie people for a short time. People think it is magic! She can tie people with invisible strings!! Actually it is just reader using their fate against them! The strings are only physical when she touches them. It would be funny if she is not a hero/vigilante but Justice League asks them for help anyway! *coughs* let's bring back Wally *coughs*

Jason Todd and Reader can only sleep together. They don't need to be next to each other, one simply cannot go to sleep if the other is awake! A good enemies to lovers blooming. How so? Well, Reader is definetly going to go join a anti-batfam villian team! People who are really mad at not being able to sleep! They want to sleep so bad that they even considered killing their soulmates!! *gasps* Not really, but they just want to fall asleep at night like a normal person. Not in the middle of a lesson nor not while working your 9 to 5!! A team of people who terrories the city with sleeping gas and robbing pillow companies to give everyone a soft pillow!!(Bernard is here ofc) Don't ask why they don't just gases themselves. They didn't think about it.

Jason and Reader in a universe where you can only grow with your soulmate. You are 15 y/o, FOR YEARS. Everyone thinks you are just petite; young looking *insert turkish 'minyon' here* Well, explain to your coworkes/parents/friends why the hell you grew up in one day! From A to a D!! And no one in your family even has the genetics!! You can thank to the lazarus pit for all the strach marks later for sure.

Jason and Reader lock eyes for the first time and sees the life of each other. Jason sees the future, their children; their love and devotion; the life he thinks is so good to be true. Reader sees the past; the street life; dying; gaining a family just to lose it again. Both are scared to be together yet only they understand eachother.

Jason and Reader switching bodies in the most inopportune times. Jason dies?? WRONG!! It was the Reader! The first time they switch bodies she dies in it! Jason has to go all the way to the Gotham to talk with Bruce. It takes YEARS! Years of him thinking he killed his soulmate and feeling guilty of it! So guilty that he can't let her family find out! *he lives as Reader till collage* Well meanwhile Reader is trying to survive. Panics so hard she doesn't even speak *looking at you YJ Jason* and takes care of her baby brother Damian. Jason becomes Red Hood not only to avange himself but avange Reader as well. And she just goes after Damian to meet with the rest of the family. ''Your son? Oh, yeah, well. We switched bodies years ago'' *they switch bodies back once they meet*

[bullet-prooflove]

Charge Sheet: Frank Castle x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lamaudite @a-noni-love @oh-no-thank-u @pleasurebuttonwrites

Companion piece to:

The Day We Met - Frank reflects on the path the relationship has taken.

Slow - You and Frank share a moment in the aftermath of your attack.

Angel (NSFW) - Frank has always called you his angel.

Rough (NSFW) - Sometimes you need it a little rough from Frank.

My Girl - Frank gets pissed when he sees you're injured.

Saint Michael - Frank returns a precious gift.

Black Ice Series:

Part One: Black Ice - Frank rushes home after hearing you've been in a car accident.

Part Two: Ice Pack (NSFW) - Frank loves you for the first time in months.

Part Three: Check In - You don't respond well to Frank checking in.

Daybreak - Frank finds it hard to let go of old habits.

Frank has a problem, it comes in the form of 5’4 Homicide Detective that’s just locked his ass up in the drunk tank because he was ‘interfering’ in her investigation. The thing is you warned him about this shit, about chasing your leads, scaring your C.I’s and Frank, he didn’t listen because he’s a stubborn asshole. When he sinks his teeth into something, he’s a dog with a bone, he doesn’t let go and neither do you.

He rubs his palm across his smarting cheek, the one with the gravel still embedded in it. You’re a vengeful little thing when your pissed off, his spine can attest to that from the knee you planted in his back before you cuffed him.

Nobody gets the drop on The Punisher, no one except for his scrappy little cop from Queens. He both loves it and hates it.

“What are you writing on the charge sheet?” He calls from behind the bars of his cell as you fill out his details on a clipboard because the system is down for the third time this month.

“Unrepentant asshole.” You respond and he has to give you that.

“We really gonna do this Neve?” He mutters, grasping the bars between his hands and giving them a light shake, testing their durability.

“Sergeant Rains.” You correct him, focused on the paperwork in front of you. “You lost first name privileges when you started fucking around in my crime scene.”

He pulls on the bars even harder, rattling them to get your attention. You tilt your head towards him and he can see that fire burning in your eyes, the one he fell in love with.

“Keep testing me Castle and I’ll put you with the Saint Paddy’s day assholes, the ones that are spewing green beer and God knows what else.”

As if on cue the sound of heaving erupts from the opposite cell, followed by the spatter of vomit on concrete. Frank backs away from the bars and sits on the edge of his bunk, his gaze still fixed on you.

“Good boy.” You murmur, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile as you return to the charge forms and Frank bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood because it this situation, it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

“You gonna at least show me the crime scene report?” He asks, watching you sign the documentation before you set it on the Duty Sergeant’s desk for his return.

“That depends.” You tell him as you approach his cell and he raises to his feet to meet you at the bars.

“On what?” He murmurs as you stand within reaching distance. His fingers hook the belt loop of your jeans, drawing you into his proximity so that the only thing keeping you apart is the bars.

“On how apologetic you are when you climb through my window tomorrow morning.” You inform him and he tilts his head, giving you that FFS expression of his.

“You’re really gonna leave me here?” He riles, running a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. “I could be out on the streets helping you-”

“I was doing this job long before you Frank, I’ll be doing the job long after too.”

Those words, they fucking eviscerate him. You know it too from the savage expression on your face as you pull away, his fingers slipping from the belt loop. That’s another thing that’s on him, he’s made it clear to you that his presence in your life is temporary, that you shouldn’t expect a damn thing from him.

“Good luck tonight Castle.” You say with a two fingered salute as the guy in the cell across from him tosses his cookies again. “You’re gonna need it.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[aerialworms]

Several people have pointed out my tags, but I forgot there was a tag limit and tumblr deleted a bunch of info (and I wasn't expecting people to read them! Whoops!), so I've written them up into a more coherent form for you all (with links to more angst!)

First off, a disclaimer: While I did do a shitton of maths to get this as accurate as I could, I was also cribbing from headcanon and guesstimates and dubiously canon novels, and then took artistic license with the diagram anyway. I do not claim this to be 100% accurate, I was just Overcome By Emotion and needed to get it out. Feel free to let me know if I've missed something, but please note this art was more about representation than wholly accurate data. (Sorry, Spock!)

I drew this after watching the short film Unification that came out last year. I don't usually acknowledge Generations for the sake of my own sanity (if I think about it for too long I will cry) but the short film made me think about both Jim AND Spock's deaths (and also the fact that Bones wasn't there, which I am. so cool and fine with. Not.) and that sent me into a little spiral at 4am (pictured below).

I scribbled this in my planner in the faint glimmer of moonlight, half-hanging out of my bed, looking up dates and becoming more and more distraught as my cat looked on in bemusement. My initial thoughts were as follows:

Hang on, how old was Jim when he died?

EXCUSE ME??

How old were Spock and Bones when they bit it??

WHAT??

How long did they all actually know each other for???

WHAT THE FUCK??????

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY WERE ONLY TOGETHER* FOR 25 YEARS?????

THAT CAN'T BE FUCKING RIGHT.

And then I cried for a good while. And eventually slept. And then woke up and did even more maths.

My calculations were as follows:

Jim was 32 at the start of the 5ym, Spock was 35, and Bones was 38. According to the dates on the Memory Alpha Wiki (death date minus birth year, counting all canon time travel etc as negligible since it's only a few months difference at most afaik), Jim lived to be 60 (not including his time in the Nexus, since that's more like the afterlife to me), Bones lived to be 141, and Spock lived to be 161 (that's a little confusing if you look at the wiki, since he died in the alternate universe and the stardates over there are different, but trust me). Bones lived for 75 years after Jim disappeared, and Spock lived for 98 (23 of those after Bones died, too). Almost an entire century. :)

They were only together as a trio for ~25 years. Jim took command of the Enterprise in 2265, and went into the Nexus in 2293. That's 28 years, minus 3 for the post-5YM/pre-TMP estrangement. Twenty five years. That's all. That's. Not fucking fair. That's less than half Jim's life. He lived over half his life before meeting Spock, and having his two best friends - his heart and mind - actually with him. And then. And then…

He did know Bones for longer. I headcanon that Jim and Bones were friends, or at least friendly acquaintances for ~11 years before Bones becomes CMO (and thus meets Spock), so that's their overlap on the diagram - of course, there was probably some time together without Spock later on but not enough to change that amount drastically. Plus, most of their friendship before Bones became CMO was likely long-distance and intermittent, given that they weren't (afaik) ever stationed together (and I tend to think Bones didn't even join the fleet till shortly before he became CMO). So that means they were together for 36 years at most (just over half Jim's life).

Jim and Spock have the smallest overlap. I think I factored in SNW and estimated it at about 5 years cumulative (the years they know each other in SNW + a bit extra just in case). So that gives them 30 years total together (exactly half Jim's life!)

And then there's Spock and Bones. Hoo fucking boy. They met because of Jim. They lived 25 years of their life with him. The three of them, working so well together, balancing each other out. And then Jim is gone. By my estimate, it was just the two of them for 75 years. Three times the amount of time they were all together. And all of this post-Jim's disappearance. They knew each other far longer than either of them ever knew Jim, and their relationship after his disappearance must have been altered by his absence, but they did stay good friends - and then there's also the fact that Spock could feel Jim was 'alive' somewhere, but had no idea where or how to get to him. Just that he was happy. Without them. If I think about that too much I will start biting.

And also. I really can't get over the fact that Bones lived so long. I expected Spock to outlive him by a wide margin (and I bet they all expected him to), but no. Both Bones and Spock lived for well over double Jim's lifespan, and lived without him for triple (nearly quadruple, in Spock's case) the time they knew him. Jim dying at 60 is young, they could have had so many more years together - they probably thought they would, after cheating death so many times and still coming back together! But Jim dies, and Spock must have, on some level, expected to outlive him, but not so soon. For a Vulcan, he has a remarkably short life, and Bones was alive for so long and they were together but without Jim, and then - even worse! - Bones dies and Spock leaves for Romulus (and ultimately another fucking universe) because there's no one left for him anymore. And he takes that pendant of Jim with him, and (I like to think) still has an impression of Bones in his head from the katra-sharing, and he lives 23 more years without them with him, not really, but they're still a fundamental part of him. Even though they were only really all together for 25 years and it's been almost a century since he last saw Jim, his Jim. Twenty five years. That's all they get.

*when I say together, I mean on friendly terms, in fairly regular contact - essentially that they were in each other's lives. That's why I'm not counting the pre-Motion Picture divorce era, and why my numbers for their one-on-one time are hazy, since I imagine they might have had other falling-outs or time alone, and Bones and Jim especially might have gone long stretches without communicating before Bones became CMO, since they weren't living near each other - and I think it's likely Spock and Bones did so post-Jim, too, especially since Spock became an ambassador and likely moved around a lot. At least they had their post-katra-sharing mind link, though.

That's what I was trying to articulate with this art - how lifespans can overlap, and how you can never match your life up perfectly to someone else's, and you'll always end up leaving or being left behind, eventually, even if you all want to stay together. I was thinking about my parents as I drew this, and how I will, most likely, outlive them by a wide margin. I have no idea how long I'll live without my current friends, too. It's bittersweet, to me. I know it's impossible to keep even one person close for your entire life, but I still wish I could.

Spock outlived both his best friends, and both he and Bones far outlived Jim. The three of them were together for those precious 25 years. It's at once so long, and not nearly long enough.

Lifespans.

(ID under cut)

[Image ID: A three-way venn diagram floating against a starfield. The circles are coloured; one yellow, one light blue, one a darker shade of blue. The yellow is the smallest, the two blue ones over double its size, with the darker blue the biggest. The yellow is half covered by the two blue circles, while it takes up a small amount of the two blues. The centre overlap between all three is labelled "the precious few years we three were together".

There is very little overlap between the yellow and the darker blue without the lighter blue.

The work is digned 'aerialworms'./End ID]

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 2/2

Bucky x reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: I have a bunch of messages wanting part two I don't really like the story anymore but here you guys go for the ones that we're asking for it!

Part one

---

The world snapped back into focus with a jarring, disorienting lurch. One moment, you were in the midst of a war-torn camp in 1944; the next, you were standing in a sterile SHIELD facility, the hum of advanced machinery buzzing around you. The sharp contrast was overwhelming, and for a moment, you struggled to catch your breath.

“It’s done,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

The mission was over. You’d secured the files, preserved the timeline, and returned to your own time. But the weight in your chest told you that not everything had been left behind. You reached into your pocket, pulling out the small chain of Bucky’s dog tags. The cool metal pressed into your palm, grounding you even as your thoughts raced.

You weren’t the same person who’d left for 1944. The time you’d spent there, the weeks you were there felt like years, the connections you’d made, he..had changed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Days passed, but the memories of 1944 haunted you. The moments you shared with Bucky, the warmth of his smile, the strength in his touch, the quiet vulnerability he’d shown played on an endless loop in your mind. You weren’t supposed to form attachments. You’d been trained to leave no trace, to move through missions as a ghost. But Bucky had shattered those walls effortlessly.

Bucky lingered like a shadow. You went through the motions, debriefing with Fury, filing reports, slipping back into the life of a ghost. But no amount of training could prepare you for the ache that settled deep in your chest. You couldn’t go back to being invisible. You wouldn't.

At night, when the world was quiet, you found yourself replaying every moment with him: the way he smiled, the warmth of his touch, the weight of his words when he asked you to stay. You clutched his dog tags tightly, as if holding them could somehow bring him closer.

But this wasn’t just about longing. It was about hope. You’d promised him you’d meet again, and now, you were determined to make good on that promise because he was here, he was real.

You sat at your desk, pulling up SHIELD’s database. A few keystrokes brought up the files you needed: James Buchanan Barnes. Unlike the war-hardened soldier you’d met in 1944, the man in these reports was different. He was still a fighter, still Bucky, but his life had shifted after the battle with Thanos. He was no longer a ghost of the past, no longer a man haunted by HYDRA’s chains.

The more you read, the more determined you become. Bucky had built a life in the present, one filled with new battles and allies, new friends. But you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought about the past…about you.

You didn’t just come back; you came back with a purpose. You’d fought through the war, through time itself, and now you were ready to find him.

You weren’t the same ghost who’d disappeared into the shadows before. You were someone who had felt, who had loved, and who wasn’t going to let that slip away. You just hoped he would remember you because you don't know what you would do if he didn’t.

One night, after hours of restless pacing, you made your decision. You had to find him. Not just because you’d promised, but because the connection you’d shared was something you couldn’t bury, no matter how much you’d been trained to.

Now, standing in the shadows of the dimly lit SHIELD facility, you clutched your satchel tightly. It was past midnight, and the halls were silent. Most agents were either off-duty or deep in the bowels of classified work. You slipped through the corridors with practiced ease, your destination clear: the exit.

You had almost made it to the door when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where you going, kid?”

You froze, slowly turning to see Fury leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His single eye bore into you, a mix of curiosity and that trademark disapproval he reserved for rule-breakers.

“Out,” you said simply, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

Fury arched an eyebrow. “Out?” he echoed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Middle of the night, satchel in hand, no clearance logged. You don’t exactly scream ‘midnight stroll.’” He studied you for a moment, then narrowed his eye. “You got involved, didn’t you?”

You held his gaze, knowing there was no point in lying. “Yeah,” you admitted quietly.

Fury’s face was unreadable for a moment, then a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Figured you would.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. “You’re not… mad?”

“Kid, if I got mad every time one of you made a personal connection, I’d have keeled over years ago.” Fury sighed, crossing his arms again. “You’ve been running missions for longer than most agents last in this game. You’ve earned the right to live a little.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, the weight of years spent in isolation, hiding in the shadows, suddenly feeling unbearable. “I’m not sure I know how,” you said softly.

Fury gave a small nod, his expression softening. “Then it’s about damn time you learn.” He gestured toward the door. “Go live a life, kid. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed hard, a wave of gratitude washing over you. “Thank you.”

Just as you turned to leave, Fury’s voice stopped you once more. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but laced with meaning, “I always thought you’d make a great asset to the Avengers.”

You turned back to him, surprised. “Really?”

Fury’s smirk returned. “Yeah. But you had to figure out who you are first. Looks like you’re finally getting there.”

You gave him a small, genuine smile. “I’ll think about it.”

With that, you stepped through the door, the cool night air hitting your face as you walked toward the next chapter of your life. Behind you, Fury watched, his expression unreadable but satisfied.

As you drove toward the Avengers compound, your thoughts drifted to Bucky. Uou felt like you were on the right path, not just as a ghost or an agent, but as yourself, that felt like it was worth everything.

------

Bucky sat in the common room of the Avengers compound, leaning back on the worn leather couch. His metal arm rested on the armrest, his other hand loosely holding a bottle of beer. Steve and Sam were across from him, engaged in a lighthearted argument about some old movie Sam insisted Steve needed to watch.

The banter washed over Bucky like background noise. Normally, he’d chime in with a sarcastic remark or two, but tonight, his mind felt distant, like he was standing on the edge of something just out of reach.

Without warning a flash of a memory hit him. It was so vivid and sharp it made him sit up straight.

You. But he didn’t know it was you.

But it was your face, clear as day. The sound of your laughter, the way your voice softened when you called his name. The weight of your hand in his, the warmth of your touch against his cheek. He could feel it all as if you were right there in the room with him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, the beer bottle slipping from his hand and thudding against the carpet.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice pulled him back, concerned and steady. “You okay?”

Bucky blinked, his heart pounding as he stared at his hands, almost expecting to find his dog tags clutched in them. But they weren’t there. Just the ghost of a memory. He shook his head slowly, trying to make sense of it.

“Holy shit,” Bucky murmured, his voice barely audible.

Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s going on, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. “I… I just remembered something. Someone.”

Steve’s expression grew more serious, his brows furrowing. “Who?”

Bucky looked up, his eyes distant but focused. “A woman. I don’t know how I didn’t remember before. She was… everywhere. She was with me before you joined the war, Steve. A nurse at one of the camps.”

Steve’s face froze for a moment, then he leaned forward. “A nurse?”

Bucky nodded, his voice growing more urgent. “Yeah. She was… different. Smart, tough, always knew what to say to keep me grounded. She helped me through some tough nights, she said she had a mission? Something about a different time, I think but then… she just disappeared. I always thought she got reassigned or something. But now, it’s all coming back, like I’ve been walking around with this hole in my head and it’s finally filling in.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Steve, then said, “You’re sure about this? Sometimes memories from back then can get fuzzy.”

“No,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady now. “This is real. Her name… her name was—” He paused, the memory of your name slipping through his lips like a whispered prayer. “It was her.”

At that, Steve’s eyes widened. He leaned back, his expression thoughtful, almost wary. “Bucky, I need to tell you something.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Steve hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “When I pulled you out of that HYDRA base… you were a mess. Barely conscious. But you kept mumbling a name. Over and over.”

Bucky’s heart started to race. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve sighed. “At the time, I wasn’t sure if it was real or just your mind playing tricks on you and after everything with HYDRA, you never brought it up. I figured if it was important, you’d remember when you were ready.”

Sam crossed his arms, watching them both carefully. “Well, now he remembers.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief, his thoughts spinning. “It wasn’t just in my head. She was real. She was there and I can’t shake the feeling that I didn’t lose her. Not really.”

Steve leaned forward again, his voice steady. “Why now?”

Bucky shook his head frantically “I-I dont know it just like came to me, like she just popped up in my head”

Sam nodded “Okay, we can ask Banner or Wanda, run some tests, she whats real and what's not”

Bucky stared at the floor, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as if he needed something to anchor him. “No,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “This isn’t something a test is going to explain. It's so hard to explain, I just …. she's real, I know she is”

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, their earlier lightheartedness now replaced by concern.

“Bucky,” Steve said cautiously, leaning forward. “If this memory is real, if she’s real, then maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s out there. But you’ve got to be sure before we start digging into this. You’ve been through a lot, and—”

“I am sure,” Bucky snapped, his voice sharp but trembling. “This isn’t just some random memory. I can feel it, Steve. She was important. She is important.”

Sam raised his hands, his tone measured. “Alright, let’s not jump the gun. If she’s out there, we’ll find her. But we need to go about this carefully. No running off half-cocked. Buck, she could be 100 years old by now, or she could be…”

Bucky clenched his jaw “I don't care, I need to know.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. We’ll help you. Let’s start with what we know.”

Bucky looked up, determination hardening his features. “Her name,” he said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. “I remember her name.”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, then said it softly, almost like he was afraid it would disappear if he spoke too loud. The room fell silent, the weight of the name settling over them.

Sam broke the silence first. “Alright. Let’s see what we can dig up. If she was involved with the 107th, maybe there’s something in the old records someones been sitting on.”

Steve nodded, already pulling out his phone. “If she’s as important as you say, we’ll find her.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around the now-empty beer bottle, his eyes flickering with a mix of hope and fear. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back, man. We’ll figure this out.”

Bucky stayed seated, his mind racing. The memory of your face, your voice, was clearer than ever. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were close, closer than anyone realized.

----

The Avengers compound loomed large, its sleek, modern design a stark contrast to the war-torn world you’d just left behind. You were standing at the front desk, pacing back and forth as you argued with the receptionist. The small, laminated badge around your neck felt more like a joke than a pass to one of the most secure locations on Earth.

“I’m telling you, I’m a SHIELD agent,” you said, your voice tight with frustration. You placed your badge and clearance documents on the desk for the third time. “Nick Fury himself authorized my access. Check again.”

The receptionist, a young woman with a tired expression, shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you’re not in the system. Without clearance, I can’t let you in.”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. Losing your cool wasn’t something you allowed yourself to do, not after everything you’d been through, not after years of training. But right now, the situation was pushing you to the edge.

“Fury promised,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. “I’m supposed to be on that list.”

The receptionist gave you an apologetic look but didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t override the system.”

You were about to argue again when a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Holy shit,” Natasha said, her tone laced with shock and excitement.

You spun around to see her standing just a few feet away, a coffee cup in hand. Beside her was Steve Rogers, looking confused but far more reserved. Natasha quickly shoved her coffee into Steve’s hands and closed the distance between you in a few big steps.

Before you could react, she pulled you into a tight hug. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, her voice softer now.

You hesitated for a moment, then hugged her back, the tension in your body easing slightly. Over her shoulder, you caught Steve’s confused expression, his eyebrows raised as if trying to piece together what was happening.

When Natasha finally pulled back, she gave you a once-over and smirked. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Fury sent you just to see me.”

You managed a small smile. “Not exactly,” you said, your voice still tinged with frustration. “I’m on a mission of sorts, but Fury said I’d be reinstated in the system. This stupid pass isn’t working.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you.” She threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you toward the elevators. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Steve followed, still holding Natasha’s coffee, his curiosity clearly piqued. As the elevator doors closed, he looked at you. “What’s your name again?”

You told him, and he nodded slowly. His brow furrowed, as if the name sparked a memory, “How do you two know each other?”

Natasha gave him a knowing look. “How do you think we know each other, Rogers?”

At the same time, you said, “Red Room.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly. “The Red Room?”

Natasha laughed, shoving your shoulder playfully. “Way to give up the deets.”

You shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s Captain America. He was going to figure it out anyway.”

Steve’s expression softened with understanding, but the curiosity didn’t leave his eyes. “You’ve been in the wind all this time?”

You sighed, leaning back against the elevator wall. “A ghost,” you said simply.

Steve glanced at Natasha, clearly unfamiliar with the term in this context. “A ghost?”

Natasha crossed her arms, her tone shifting to something more serious. “It’s what SHIELD calls their operatives who work completely off the grid. No paper trail, no records, no connections. They’re invisible.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back to you, his expression thoughtful. “That sounds like a rough way to live.”

You gave him a small, humorless smile. “It is.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal the living quarters. Natasha led the way, her arm still around your shoulders, while Steve followed closely behind.

“So,” Natasha said as you walked, her tone light again. “What’s this mission? How’d Fury let his favorite ghost out of the shadows?”

You were about to answer when your eyes landed on someone in the common room. He was sitting with his back to you, his dark hair slightly tousled, his broad shoulders unmistakable.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Bucky,” you said softly.

The room tensed immediately. Steve’s eyes widened, his posture stiffening. Natasha glanced at you, her smirk fading as she registered the weight in your voice.

Bucky turned around so fast it was almost a blur. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

He stood, his expression shifting from confusion to shock, then something much deeper. “It’s you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It’s me.”

No one moved. The air in the room was thick with unspoken emotions, more memories flooding back in an instant. “What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He whispered, a small smile on his face.

“That's the line you're gonna go with?” Your voice trembled

Without a word, Bucky crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled you into his arms. His embrace was strong and desperate, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything hit you all at once.

Steve and Natasha exchanged a glance but said nothing, giving the two of you space.

After what felt like an eternity but certainly not long enough, Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours as if to confirm you were really there.

“I remembered you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re here”

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I promised.”

“You promised” He nodded, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he pulled you back into his arms.

Bucky held you tightly, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you in the moment. The room felt like it belonged to just the two of you, the past and present converging in a way neither of you had expected.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. “How are you here? After all this time…”

You hesitated, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. “It’s a long story,” you said softly. “But I told you we’d see each other again.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his thumbs brushing gently along your cheeks. “I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I couldn’t remember everything, I… I knew there was something missing. Someone.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “I've felt the same, ever since I came back” you said, your voice trembling. “Every day, I thought about finding you. About this moment.”

Steve’s voice finally broke through the quiet. “Wait…Im lost here, you said you knew Natasha in the Red Room just a second ago, how can you be the girl Bucky’s talking about?”

Bucky glanced at him, then back at you, his voice steady “Its her. She was with the 107th. She patched me up more times than I can count.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression curious but gentle. “How?”

Steve looked between you and Bucky, his brow furrowing. “But you’d be… older. A lot older. Do you have the serum?”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s complicated,” you admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to be remembered, but Bucky was always gonna be the exception.”

Bucky’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to the chain around your neck. His lips parted slightly as recognition dawned. “You’re still wearing them,” he said quietly, his voice filled with wonder. “My dog tags.”

You glanced down at the familiar metal tags, the cool weight of them resting against your chest. “It hasn’t been that long for me,” you said, your fingers brushing over them. “I couldn’t leave them behind.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips. “Right… not your time.” He nodded, his voice low. “I get it now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Steve. “Okay, someone enlighten us,” she said, her tone half-joking but laced with genuine curiosity. “What’s going on?”

Steve nodded, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I’m gonna need the full story here.”

You sighed, glancing at Bucky for reassurance before turning back to the others. “Alright,” you said, your voice steadying. “I’ll explain everything.”

The three of them settled in, Natasha leaning against the wall, Steve pulling up a chair, and Bucky staying close beside you, his hand resting on your knee as if to anchor himself.

You began. “A few months ago, Fury approached me with a mission unlike anything I’d ever done before. SHIELD had developed a way to send operatives back in time only for short periods a few months at most, only for the most critical missions. The goal was to retrieve information that could change the course of history if it fell into the wrong hands.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Time travel?”

You nodded. “Yes. Fury chose me because I was already a ghost..no ties, no records, and no one to leave behind, no one to care if i didn’t make it back” You smiled sadly, especially towards Natasha. “I was sent to 1944, embedded with the 107th as a nurse.”

Natasha tilted her head, absorbing the information. “That’s where you met Bucky.”

“Yes,” you said, glancing at him. “He wasn’t supposed to remember me. No one was. I was meant to complete the mission and leave without a trace. But things didn’t go according to plan.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly. “We got close.”

You nodded. “I tried to keep my distance, but… you made it impossible.”

Steve leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “That's why Bucky’s memories of you were fragmented?"

“Yes,” you said. “The time travel process is complicated but i shouldn't have been more than a passing face, and if people did remember me they were all supposed to be long gone by now” You smiled sadly.

Bucky gave a quiet laugh, his eyes still fixed on you. “I thought I was losing my mind. But now… it all makes sense.”

You took a deep breath, continuing. “After I completed the mission, I came back to my time. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I knew you were out there, and I promised you we’d meet again. You once said i wasn’t invisible to you, im hoping thats still true because i dont wanna be anymore….”

“You never were, not then not now” Bucky's voice was low and quiet.

Steve exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “That’s… a lot to take in.”

Natasha nodded, her smirk returning. “Fury really loves his secrets, doesn’t he?”

You smiled faintly. “It’s what he does best.”

Steve looked at Bucky, his expression softening. “Now you have the missing piece.”

Bucky nodded, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. “Yeah, and I'm not losing it.”

“Well,” she said, pushing off the wall, “looks like Fury owes us a hell of a debrief, especially if you're staying……you're staying right?”

“If that's okay? Fury said he would work on the transfer” You spoke quietly and timidly, afraid of rejection.

“Of course that's okay” Natasha reacher over squeezing your hand

Steve chuckled, standing up. “We’d love to have you, any friend of Natasha’s…. and Buckys is a friend of mine” He gave you a smile “I think we need to have a word with Fury and get some answers and sort everything out first”

Bucky stayed seated, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t care what Fury says,” he murmured. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

You smiled, your heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “Me too.”

Bucky’s grip on your knee tightened slightly, like he was still convincing himself you were real. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with something deep and unspoken relief, disbelief, maybe even hope.

His voice dropped to something softer, steadier. “I spent so long looking for the parts of me I’d lost… but I never thought I’d get this one back.”

Your throat tightened, your fingers curling around his. “You never really lost me, Buck.”

His lips quirked up, just slightly. “No,” he agreed, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I guess I didn’t.”

You were no longer just a ghost, no longer something that never existed. You were finally real.

For so long you had been nothing but a shadow moving unseen, slipping through cracks in time, never meant to be remembered. You had been a whisper in history, a name that faded the moment it was spoken.

But now?

Now, you are here. You were flesh and bone, laughter and breath. You were a life that had been pulled from the depths of memory and placed back where it belonged.

You weren’t lost. You weren’t forgotten.

You weren’t a ghost.

Not anymore.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

[rain-water-flowers]

The Sweetest Song of Unexpected Love

CHAPTER 2 - A Night To Remember

WC: 3647

Warnings: SMUT!!, afab!reader, Dom!Chan, degradation, praise, chan is really condescending :)), fingering (f receiving), dry humping, unprotected piv (let's not do this, okay?), very slight voyeurism and exhibitionism, sighhhh what else?? oh! overstimulation, forced orgasm

A/n: Sorryyy this took so long! The writers block was hitting me hard. As for the tags, did I get it all? I think I got it all. Let me know if I miss something. Also, I know what you're thinking.. smut on the second chapter?? I know, I know, but I had this idea and I hate dragging things out so here we are. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if there's anything I should add or if you have any suggestions!!

Special thanks to my beta @midnighthazee

Series Masterlist

 

Y/n had lost most of her confidence as the conversation went on. It started out nice and calm. Questions about her favorite colors, her job, her pet cat. She even figured out that his name was Chris. But she couldn't get past the obvious want between the both of them. Sometime during the conversations, she stopped listening and started staring at his lips. They were so pretty she couldn’t help but want them on hers.

The hands on her waist squeezed and she was brought back to the moment, eyes focusing on his again.

“Not listening, huh?” Chris asked, a playful smirk on his face.

“No, no I hear you, I swear.” She was in fact, not listening.

“Mm. You’re hearing me, but you’re not listening, pretty.” His tone turned sharp and it made her heart flutter in her chest.

Y/n had a small thought in the back of her mind about how she would really love for him to teach her how to listen. She knows she’s a brat at heart, but she never gets to fulfill those fantasies with all of the disappointing men she’s been with.

Despite her defiant thoughts, she didn’t know what to say. Everything about him was making her lose every single path of thought that she had. He was captivating in such an intense way.

“Your lips are pretty.” She didn’t even realise she said it until he let out an airy chuckle. Somehow y/n always finds a way to embarrass herself.

“Oh, that’s what you were thinking about, baby?” He asked, lips curled into a smirk. Y/n felt her stomach grow butterflies at the beautiful, yet dangerous, look on his face.

She wanted to jump this man. How dare he make her feel like this? She tries to remember the rules she gave herself at the beginning of the night.

No strings…no…something? She doesn’t remember. All of her thoughts are slowly burning and dissolving away in her head from the intense heat she’s feeling.

“No, I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I was listening to you…” At this point, nothing she’s saying is making sense.

“No need to lie to me, baby. I would prefer you tell the truth.” He responded, a dark tone to his voice.

She had nothing to say after that, feeling like he was overtaking her senses.

“Do you need to be put in your place?” He asks seriously, his look telling her that he wanted to ruin her for anybody else.

Y/n stuttered out her answer, not expecting him to say that.

“Oh..I don’t know, um..” It was taking everything in her to not to jump him. The tension that she could feel between them was palpable and she didn’t even really know this man.

"You think I don't know what you want?" Chris asked, lips curling into something that could've been a smile if not for something darker in his eyes. Gone was the playful energy that was set around them.

She wanted to argue with him. His tone made her want to defy him and force him to put her in her place like she really wanted to be. She should step away from him, remind herself that she falls in love too easily, that she didn’t come here for this.

Those thoughts quickly disappeared as he leaned in closer to her. She could feel his breath on her face as he made his way toward her neck, gently ghosting his lips over it. He was toying with her, seeing how long she could last before breaking the tension.

Y/n’s pulse hammered hard in her chest, and she barely recognized the sound of her own voice when she spoke again. “What do you want from me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted again. He seemed to find her very amusing. He was dangerous.

“To see how far you’ll go when you don’t know the consequences.” He whispers in her left ear. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Her eyes searched for him, trying to figure out his motive, but they were too dark and intense and she couldn’t see anything past that.

“Mmmm, I’m not the one who isn’t aware of the consequences.” Y/n whispered back. She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence came from but she was glad to show him that she wasn’t always a flustered mess.

He poked his cheek out with his tongue and looked off to the side chuckling. He directed his eyes back to her, his look even darker and even more dangerous. “You think I can’t see it in the way you’re looking at me? The way you wanna prove to me you can be good for me? You don’t have to lie to me, pretty.” He said, brushing her hair behind her ear and biting his lip.

“I–” She opened her mouth to reply but the words got caught in her throat. His gaze dropped to her lips, looking like he wanted to devour them.

The pull between them was magnetic. Y/n didn’t know if it was the anonymity of the masks, the dark atmosphere, or the way he was looking at her like he wanted to ruin her.

His hand, warm and confident and strong, slid along the curve of her back, pulling her in closer. She gasped with the force of it.

He smelled so intoxicating that her eyes fluttered and she let out an aroused sigh. His scent was making her want to just be close to him.

“You don’t even really know me..” She said, trying to hold onto some of her resolve. She knew it was a losing battle.

“No,” he agreed quietly, gaze never leaving hers. “And you don’t really know anything about me, But right now… that doesn’t matter. It’s just you and me, yeah?”

His thumb grazed the soft skin of her cheek, moving along her jaw to her chin where he took it in his grip. The gentle pressure of it sent a wave of heat rushing through her. Her breath caught again, heart pounding in her chest.

The club around them seemed to blur, lost in the background, sounds muffled. The only thing that was clear anymore was the desire between them.

His grip on her waist and her chin tightened. He dared her to pull away, to say no. But instead, she got closer, waiting for him to make his move.

He leaned in closer and touched his lips to hers. It was so delicate she questioned if it even happened.

She doesn’t remember exactly what happened after that. Something in Chris must have snapped because after the first contact of their lips, he immediately went back for more. The kiss exploded in intensity and she felt heat consume her. If she wasn’t horny before, she definitely was now. He tasted like alcohol and something sweet that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was addicting and she was starting to get lost in it.

He pulled away for a short breath and looked into Y/n’s eyes. They were hazy and blurred with lust. He dove back in for more, pulling her impossibly tighter against him.

His hands started to wander, moving down to her ass and squeezing, the roughness making her let out a small gasp.

Y/n started to grind down on his lap, feeling his hardness beneath her. She could tell he was big and thick and enough to fill her to the brim. She let out a small whine into the kiss at the thought.

Chris bucked up into her at the little sound, getting more and more breathless as they lost with each other in the kiss. At this point, they were basically dry humping in public. Other VIP guests would know exactly what was happening if they were to walk by, and onlookers from the dance floor below would catch a glimpse too if they were to look up.

She could tell she was starting to run out of air, but it didn’t matter to her. She wanted to drown in the way he tasted. She wondered if he tasted this sweet in…other places.

He finally pulled away and y/n gasped for air. She immediately followed his lips but he pulled away, letting out an airy chuckle at her desperation.

“So needy, huh?” He said, voice dark and low in her ear. “That’s okay, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

She whined at his tone – soft, yet condescending. If he kept talking, she would drop to her knees right where she was, public or not.

“Wan’ it,” She mumbled. She honestly didn’t even know what she was asking for. To suck him off? To be kissed more? To be fucked? All of them, preferably at the same time? She doesn’t know, she just needs him.

“Aww, baby, want what, hm? Tell me.” He said, tilting her head up to make her look into his eyes.

Y/n whined in frustration. She doesn't know what's happening to her – words seemed so hard and they haven’t done much more than kissing.

“Whining won’t get you anywhere, baby.” He says, clicking his tongue at her and shaking his head.

“W-want you to fuck me.” She gets out surprisingly. Chris smirks in a dark way that makes her stomach fill with butterflies. He focuses his eyes on her lips again, biting his own.

“Of course you do, pretty,” he says, tightening his grip on her ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He pulls her off of his lap gently pulling out his wallet and leaving a tip on the table in the booth. He gets out of the booth and holds his hand out for y/n to take. She stands on wobbly legs, still weak from their make-out session.

Chris pulls her down the hallway on the VIP floor leading to the private back rooms. The bouncer lets them through without question and tells them to use room eight.

As they walk down the wide hallways, y/n starts getting increasingly horny. Something about the dark lights, the mysteriousness, the anticipation – she thinks she might explode.

When they reach room eight, Chris doesn’t hesitate to throw the door open and guide y/n inside. He quickly closes it, locks it, and grabs her again to then shove her against it. Y/n realises she’s slightly distracted by the bulge she feels pressing against her hip.

Chris takes a deep breath through his nose, inhaling her scent, and letting out a groan afterwards. Y/n would have thought this was strange if he was less attractive.

He slowly trails his hands from her wrists up to her shoulders and down her back. He roughly grips her waist and uses the other hand to grip her throat. Her pulse quickens as his hand tightens. She can feel the thoughts leaving her head at a rapid pace.

“That’s all it takes, baby?” He mocks, a faux pout on his lips. “Just my hand on your pretty little throat and you become so pliant for me.”

She lets out a pathetic nod, hips slightly moving in circular motions against the thigh in between her legs.

Chris notices her trying to get herself off and moves his thigh away. She lets out a small whine.

“Patience, pretty. Let me get you comfortable first.”

He leads her to the abnormally large couch near the far side of the room and sits down on it. Y/n straddles his lap so naturally someone might think they fuck on the regular. She immediately starts to move her hips, grinding down on his big cock. She wants it in her now and he’s not moving fast enough.

Chris moves to her ear to whisper something that makes her hips stutter and come to a stop.

“Do you wanna keep grinding on me until you cum like a little slut, or do you want me to fuck you nice and good until you cum on my cock?” He asks in a whisper. He formed it as a question, but y/n knows he already made the choice for her. Not like she would want the former anyway.

“Okay, okay I’m stopping. Please I need you to fuck me. Please, please, please.” She begs, head down and nuzzling into Chris’s chest.

“Look at me.” He demands, tone leaving no room for argument.

She slowly removes her head from his chest and looks at him. Chris immediately goes to kiss her, seeming like he can’t help himself. The kiss is intense and y/n feels like she can’t breathe. She doesn’t care.

Chris’s hand reaches down in between them, finding the top of her skirt. He caresses her waist before pulling away from the kiss.

“Get up and strip for me, baby.” He says, chest heaving from the lack of air during their kiss.

She doesn’t hesitate to stand up and take her clothes off, not even taking the time to make it sensual. She wants him too much.

As soon as y/n finishes stripping she suddenly feels shy, realising how desperate she must seem. Her arms raise to try and cover herself subtly.

“Put those hands down, pretty. I wanna see all of you.” Chris says, his tone demanding and leaving no room for disobeying.

Y/n lowers her arms and slowly moves back to him, sitting on his lap. She feels extra exposed with him being fully clothed. She looks up at him and finds him staring at her, tracing the lines of her body. It makes the shyness in her fade, replaced by confidence.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?” She asks, an innocent looking smile on her face.

Chris meets her eyes, a hungry look in them. “What did you just call me? Say it again.” He responds, looking like he wants to devour her.

“Daddy…please, I need you in me,” She begs. If he keeps dragging this out, y/n is gonna take matters into her own hands.

“I know, baby. I know.” With that, Chris instinctively reaches for y/n’s exposed bottom, caressing it.

With a loud smacking sound, Chris’s hand came down roughly on y/n’s ass, causing her to flinch and let out a high pitched whine. The impact of the hit sent heat rushing through their bodies.

Y/n grinded on Chris’s lap, circling her hips and loving the feeling of the thickness below her.

“C’mon daddy, please-” A hand on her throat stopped her mid sentence, feeling the air leave her.

“Stop talking.” Chris commanded, eyes traveling down her body.

With sudden movement, Chris reached his hand down to y/n’s clit, teasing her with a light touch. Without hesitation, he plunged two fingers into her dripping wet hole, making her moan out with intense pleasure.

Chris chuckled darkly at hearing the sound, grabbing her hair and wrenching her head back as he pounded his fingers into her pussy. Y/n was falling apart on his fingers already, not very confident that she wouldn’t climax at any second.

Chris roughly pulled his fingers out, grabbing her by the throat with the same hand and pulling her face to him, whispering in her ear.

“On your knees.” He commanded, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. “I want that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Y/n immediately sank to the floor, looking up at him with dazed and desperate eyes as she unzipped his pants and freed his hard dick. She wants it so badly she hardly wastes any time.

She runs her hand up and down his length, taking in how big he is.

“Stop stalling and suck me off already.” He growled, tangling his fingers in her hair, “Open that mouth and show me what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Y/n parted her lips and took his tip in her mouth, giving it a little suck before going deeper, moaning at the taste of him. She worked her lips and tongue along his cock, hollowing her cheeks to suck harder. Chris groaned in pleasure and began to thrust into her throat.

Y/n stopped sucking and just left her mouth open, allowing him to fuck her throat.

“That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he grunted. “Fuck, you love having your mouth stuffed, don’t you?”

Y/n could only nod around his cock, tears falling from the corners of her eyes and onto her mask as he fucked her face hard and fast. She reveled in his rough use of her, treating her like a toy.

With a loud groan, he stood up and pulled her off of him, strings of saliva connecting his cock to her red, swollen lips. Y/n whimpered in protest, wanting him back in her mouth already.

Chris smirked and hauled her up and turned her around to bend over the large circular table in the middle of the room.

“I know what you need, pretty girl,” he said, delivering a sharp spank to her ass. “Beg for my cock.”

“Please daddy! Please, please, please, I need it so bad,” she cried, grinding back against him. “I need to feel you inside me, filling me up. Please-”

Chris chuckled darkly and grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back as he ground his erection against her naked pussy. “You want me to ruin this cunt? Ruin you for anyone else, baby?”

“Yes!” Y/n wailed. “Want your big cock stretching me open. I need it!”

Chris grabbed his cock, guiding it to her hole and pushing into her. He let out a groan at how wet and warm she felt. Y/n let out a loud drawn out moan, feeling so full and stretched she might cum just from the sensation of it.

He pushed all the way inside, filling her up completely. He gave her a couple of seconds to gather herself before he started a brutal pace, roughly fucking into her.

Y/n’s hands scrambled to grab onto something. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white as Chris took her aggressively, grunting with the force of his thrusts. He was so deep, reaching places that no one else had. She knew she was gonna be sore tomorrow but she didn’t care. She was so addicted to the feeling of being used.

“Touch yourself,” Chris ordered. “I want to feel this pretty pussy squeezing my cock when you cum.”

Y/n shook her head, knowing if she touched herself it would be too much. She was already feeling so sensitive, the feeling of his cock inside her so intense.

Chris grinned wickedly and reached his hand down to rub her clit himself, smirking at the loud whines she was letting out. He pinched her clit between his fingers, causing her to flinch violently. “You should have listened, baby.”

She came with a scream, her walls clamping down on him like a vice. Chris fucked her through it, not stopping.

Y/n started whimpering, the pleasure too much for her. Chris didn’t seem like he was gonna stop until he got his fill.

Y/n was starting to feel overstimulated, not getting a break since she came – but she didn’t care. The intense feeling made her even more aroused, moaning at the rough pace Chris set.

“You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he taunted, his hand wrapping around her throat, and his lips at her ear. “Can’t get enough of me, yeah?”

Y/n could only moan in response, her breath hitching in her throat. She felt wetness in the corner of her eyes. Was she crying? She couldn't tell. Everything was just so much. She was so sensitive, but she craved more. She wanted to be pushed to the edge again and again.

“I want you to cum around me again like the dirty fucking girl you are,” Chris growled in her ear. “I’m not gonna stop until you're completely wrung out and begging for mercy.”

Chris hit her G-spot just right, pounding that spot deep inside her as he squeezed his hand more, cutting off her oxygen. Y/n keened, her hips twitching and stuttering against him as she was overwhelmed.

“A-Ah-” she cried out. “Daddy!”

“That’s it, baby. Let everyone know who’s making you feel good.” Chris groaned, voice rough with lust.

Y/n had lost all sense of propriety, her body no longer hers to control. She was putty in Chris’s skilled hands as he pounded into her, driving her closer to her second climax.

It hit her like a train, making her scream until her throat was raw. But Chris showed no mercy, continuing to thrust into her, bringing his hand from her throat to her cunt and massaging her throbbing clit.

“Again,” he ordered, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “Give me one more, pretty. I know you have it in you.”

Y/n tried to shake her head, tears streaming down her face at the sheer intensity of it all. She couldn't take anymore, and was sure she would break apart at the seams. But Chris just chuckled wickedly and rubbed her clit even harder, making her see stars. His grunts sounded like he was just as close as she was.

Y/n came one last time with a loud sob, her vision going white as the world seemed to shatter around her.

Chris groaned in bliss at the sensation of her pussy squeezing him so hard, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge.

He came with a guttural moan, spilling inside of her pulsing walls.. They stayed locked together like that for what seemed like hours, but was really only a few moments.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her temple. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Y/n smiled sleepily and dazed, breath evening out.

Taglist:

@kathaelipwse @midnighthazee @its-the-solar-system @maggicotton

[dragonqueenofice]

I Hate to Love You

Vulnerability, softness. It's a feeling that claws its way into his throat at the worst times, like digging a knife into his stomach.

(Or, Aventurine is forced to think about how soft he gets around you.)

Word count: 750

Tags: Attempt at angst, I don't write angst that much, Aventurine holds the reader and has a crisis about it, set after the events of the Penacony story, reader has a job but it's undefined and unimportant, reader gets drunk and kisses Aven and he doesn't really do anything about it

Aventurine doesn't let himself get vulnerable. It's the first thing anyone's ever noticed about him, not a single person ever gets closer than arm's reach. Ratio is victim to nothing but a company relationship- no matter how much he tries to be close, Aventurine pulls back in typical fashion. Topaz, even further apart, with the rare call from her superior to mock in a friendly manner, but never anything more personal than banter.

He always flinches when your eyes land on his neck; he bristles, brushes up his collar, “Honey,” he calls you, nothing more than a pet name, “Eyes up here. Unless, you're aiming to put a few decorations?” He provokes, turning on his heel to face head on- and tilting his head, concealing that mark and exposing the empty skin.

It's not like you want to indulge, but the elevator is remarkably private- a step forward and a tilt up lands your lips against his cheek, sweet and chaste. The gambler looks nearly disappointed, though the elevator opens and work demands attention.

To make it to a modicum of vulnerability, he needs to be at your house. Not his, you've never been to his place of residence, but Aventurine treats an invite to yours like a stay at a palace. Dolled up in his finest silk and gold, bearing gifts of fancy wine and fancier snacks. He barely drinks any, but the movie that's been playing is investing enough to draw your mind away from the tells of the Stoneheart, and onto the screen.

“I don't think you're hydrated enough to cry like this,” Aventurine muses. His free arm pats the back of your head, holding you close as tears soak into his coat- he grumbles about the sleeve getting deformed as you sob from the tragic twist in the last act. Eventually, the sobs of the movie turn into just sobs, before there's a pitiful, pathetic hit against his other shoulder.

“I hate you…” It's admitted in tiny, muffled mumble as your face buries into Aventurine, soaking in his warmth, “Automated message… I thought you…”

Died. Gods, if only; Aventurine pats your head, keeping you uncomfortably pressed to his shoulder, “I know, honey. I know,” his own tone hurts his heart, gentle and soft, like a mother shushing her child (like a sister, holding a goddess’ blessed), “But I'm here. Alive and well.”

There's a melancholy to his tone, alive and well is never a good thing to Aventurine. But that hint of sadness is drowned out with yet another sob; A push onto his lap gets him to fold, bringing you closer until your head is tucked under his chin. Aventurine swears his skin feels like fire, contact is pins and needles against him, but his hand brushes up and down your side like a lover's would.

He's quiet, you're quiet- you quiet down, eventually. “...I'm sorry, honey,” words barely whispered, they hardly exist. His heart feels like it's being wrenched out, or squeezed, or something. It hurts in a way that feels disgusting and gentle, apologies make him ache. His hand digs into your waist, there's a quiet whimper and Aventurine feels like he wants to stab you. His lips find their way to your head, forehead, nose, cheek, neck. Guilt makes him stop there; but you follow up on that offer from the elevator and plant a messy little kiss against the skin of his neck- the side that isn't seared.

“You're terrible at this,” Aventurine laughs- wheezes? Huffs? A half assed attempt to hide his fragility, humor coats most wounds but not the cracks he’s displaying tonight. You proclaim hatred once more, Aventurine tilts his head up, every artist needs a canvas. He stops you the minute your hand tugs against his collar, shaking his head, “Ah ah, you've got to be conscious to go further.”

A pout and a grumble, and all of the sudden your lips find his. Aventurine thinks he might just die, but the torment doesn't last as you break off to pass out on his shoulder. He feels sick; his hands knead against your skin, squeezing and releasing as his mind races. He could kill you, purge this soft fluff from his system with a blaze. Cut you off, run away, he could kiss someone else in front of you- maybe that would scare you off.

All of this is considered as he lies down, hands adjusting you to rest comfortably on top of him, brushing your side and cupping your head.

[aventurineswife]

characters and how they deal with their partner who comes from an abusive family that they are unable to cut off no matter how bad it gets or how much it affects them because they're too scared to take that step. How will they encourage them? (Kaveritas, Shadow, Aventurine, and Lumine.)

Rewrite Your Story

Tags: Lumine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Aventurine x Reader, Shadow (OC) x Reader, Emotional support, Family struggles, Toxic family dynamics, Abuse, Personal growth, Self-worth, Healing journey, Encouragement, Established relationship, Fear of change, Overcoming fear, Found family, Self-empowerment.

Warnings: This fic touches on sensitive themes of abuse, manipulation, toxic family relationships, emotional turmoil, and personal growth in the face of challenging circumstances. It may be triggering for individuals dealing with similar experiences.

[Header credits]

Lumine sat by the campfire, the crackling flames casting soft shadows on your delicate features. Her eyes, as bright as the evening sun, reflected a deep empathy as she gazed at you. You both sat in silence for a long while, the only sound being the occasional rustle of the leaves in the night wind. You had just shared your fears with her about your family, your abusive ties, and the overwhelming feeling of being unable to break free. It was something that hurt Lumine to the core.

"I... just can't do it," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I can't cut them off, no matter how much I suffer. I'm scared. They're all I know."

Lumine's gaze softened, the quiet determination in her heart taking root. Her own journey across countless worlds had been shaped by separation, loss, and the painful yearning for reunion with her twin, Aether. She understood what it was like to feel isolated, trapped by the weight of ties that felt impossible to sever.

She took a slow breath, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she spoke. "I understand your pain. I've been torn apart from the one person I loved most. And in some ways, I still carry that hurt with me." Her voice was soft but firm, her words cutting through the silence. "But you have to remember that you are the one who deserves to feel safe, to feel loved. No matter what your family has made you believe, you are worthy of peace. They might have created this pattern in your life, but you... you have the power to rewrite it."

She reached out, placing a hand gently over yours. "Fear will always be a chain. But you don't have to let it control you forever. If you can't take that step alone, I will be here. We'll take it together, even if it's a small one. You don’t need to face this fear alone."

Her voice was unwavering, full of compassion and quiet strength. The weight of her words was as gentle as it was profound, as she knew the burden you carried all too well. Lumine leaned in closer, her presence offering comfort, as though she were a quiet beacon in the dark. "The family you choose, the people who love you—we are your family now. You don't need to carry their chains anymore."

Her eyes softened further as she offered a small, but reassuring smile. "Whenever you're ready, I’ll be here. No pressure. No judgment. Just... no more fear."

You gave a small nod, feeling an unspoken bond between you—a bond that held both healing and hope, a future where fear no longer dictated your every move.

Kaveh paced back and forth in your shared quarters, his eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. It had been a difficult day. You had opened up to him about your family, about the toxic, abusive environment that you felt trapped in. You had tried, over and over, to escape your family’s control, but every time you attempted to stand up for yourself, the fear and guilt weighed heavily on you, making you retreat back into the suffocating familiarity of your past.

Kaveh’s heart ached for you, his empathetic nature wanting to shield you from pain, to make it all go away. But he knew it wasn’t that simple. How could he ease your burden? He couldn't stand the thought of you suffering silently.

"I don't know how to break free, Kaveh," you whispered, voice breaking with emotion. "I'm scared of what will happen if I do. What if they... they make it worse? What if they never forgive me?"

Kaveh stopped pacing and turned to face you, his features softening with understanding. He could feel the weight of your pain, the delicate balance you walked between fear and longing for something better. Kaveh approached you slowly, his hands reaching out to gently take yours.

"Listen," he began, his voice steady yet filled with the warmth of his compassion, "I know you feel stuck. I know you're scared. But what they're doing to you—what they've done to you—is not your fault. You don't have to live in fear. You have every right to choose a life that's free from their toxicity. You're stronger than you think."

He cupped your face with his hand, looking deep into your eyes. His tone was earnest, his usual idealism shining through. "You don't need to cut them off immediately if you're not ready. But you do need to take that first step. Start small. Start by setting boundaries—your boundaries. Let them know you won't tolerate being mistreated. And if they don’t respect that, then it’s time to distance yourself."

Kaveh’s words were sincere, grounded in his unwavering belief that beauty, kindness, and justice should prevail—even if it was a fight. He knew that your family might try to manipulate or guilt you, but he also knew that no one deserved to live under such a shadow.

"You're not alone in this," he continued. "I’m here. And I’ll always be here for you, even when it feels like the world is against you. Take it one step at a time, and when you're ready to stand tall, I’ll be the one cheering you on. You’re worth it."

In the quiet of the room, the sincerity of Kaveh’s words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth that softened the fear gnawing at your heart. You knew the road ahead would be difficult, but Kaveh’s unwavering support made it feel just a little less daunting.

And beside you stood Ratio, his eyes not as warm as Kaveh's, but filled with unwavering conviction.

"You are capable of far more than you think," Ratio added, his voice as confident as ever. "Fear is the greatest enemy of intellect and creativity. If you wish to rise above it, you must. Do not let them dictate your future."

Kaveh looked at Ratio, and then back at you. "We’re in this together, you know. You have our support, no matter what you choose."

With Kaveh’s hand still gently holding yours, and Ratio’s piercing gaze meeting yours with unwavering confidence, you felt the weight of your fear lighten, replaced by a renewed sense of hope.

You might not have all the answers yet, but with the strength of your love and the support of Kaveh and Ratio, you knew you could find the courage to make that first step. The family that had caused so much harm would no longer be the deciding force in your life. It would be your own choices, your own future.

Shadow sat quietly in the bakery, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the window. She wiped her hands on a towel, her movements methodical, but her mind was elsewhere. You, still emotionally bruised from your recent conversation, had barely spoken a word all day. Shadow had sensed the unspoken tension and the way your eyes flickered nervously every time your family was brought up. She knew the scars weren’t just physical—they were far deeper, buried within the heart.

She leaned against the counter, watching you as you stared into space. The quiet in the room was thick, oppressive even, but Shadow didn’t feel the need to fill it. She understood that sometimes silence was more powerful than words.

“Hey, you okay?” Shadow’s voice was soft, warm but with that ever-present underlying strength.

You didn’t answer immediately, and Shadow didn’t push. She was patient, waiting for you to find your voice. The silence stretched until your voice broke it, just above a whisper.

“I can’t leave them. Not yet. I know they’ve hurt me over and over, but... they’re my family. What if they really need me? What if I’m the one to fix things?”

Shadow's brow furrowed, her heart tightening as she approached you slowly. Her eyes softened, her own painful history flashing in her mind. She had been where you were, stuck in a cycle of hurt, struggling to break free from the past that chained her to people who didn’t deserve her loyalty.

“They don’t get to decide your worth,” Shadow said, her tone calm but firm, a contrast to the war raging inside her. “You’ve done more than enough. You’ve survived. But sometimes survival means cutting ties with the things that keep you from truly living.”

You looked at her, your eyes filled with the same fear that Shadow had seen so many times in her own reflection.

“I know you’re scared. But you’re not alone in this.” Shadow stepped closer, her hand reaching out, not as an offer of pity, but of understanding. “You’ve fought through so much, and I know it feels like cutting them off is impossible. But you have the strength to choose what’s best for you. Your peace matters. Your healing matters. You deserve to walk away from pain.”

The words hung between you for a long moment. Shadow didn’t try to convince you outright, but simply shared the truth she had learned through her own scars: the strength to let go was within you. She’d be by your side, no matter the decision, but she wanted you to know you could find the courage to choose yourself.

“I’m here,” she added quietly, her voice a steady anchor. “I won’t push you, but when you’re ready, I’ll help you rebuild. I’ll help you heal.”

Shadow’s compassion was unwavering, but it was her belief in your strength, born from her own painful journey, that spoke louder than any words.

Aventurine leaned against the tall balcony railing, the neon lights of the city flickering in the distance. The wind carried the scent of the ocean, but the discomfort between him and you was the most obvious presence in the room. The silence stretched between you, suffocating and fragile.

“I don’t know what to do,” you finally spoke, your voice quivering, betraying the internal war you’d been fighting for so long. “I can’t just leave them. They’re my family. They... need me. Even if it hurts me, I don’t think I can walk away.”

Aventurine didn’t answer immediately, his hand gripping the railing as his mind raced. He understood what it was like to be bound to a past filled with cruelty, to have a family that was a constant source of pain yet held an inescapable claim over you. But his methods of survival were built on manipulation, calculated risk, and the raw, volatile need to control. But this was different. This was more than just strategy—it was about your heart, your well-being.

With a fluid motion, Aventurine turned to face you, his gaze unreadable for a long moment. His eyes locked onto yours, sharp yet gentle in a way that only those who had mastered the art of disguise could convey. He moved towards you, close enough for you to feel his presence but not enough to encroach on your personal space.

“I know what it’s like,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly vulnerable. “To feel like you owe them, like you’re the only one who can fix it. But the truth is, they’ve hurt you. Over and over again. And no matter how much you try to save them, they’ll always drag you back into that cycle.”

His tone was steady, but beneath it lay a deep, unspoken sadness—perhaps from the guilt that plagued him, from the very thing that drove his manipulative, high-stakes persona.

“You don’t have to be their savior. Not if it costs you everything you are,” Aventurine continued. “I know how hard it is to walk away. To cut the ties. But you need to understand something. The price of that loyalty... it’s too high. It costs you your happiness, your peace, and sometimes, it even costs your soul.”

Your eyes were wide with doubt, and for a brief moment, he saw the fear in your gaze. It was fear he understood all too well—the fear of losing what little connection you still had to a broken family.

Aventurine placed a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch light but firm, a symbol of reassurance. “I’m not asking you to walk away today. Not yet. But I want you to know this: I will be here for you, no matter what. If you need time to process, I will be here. If you need someone to talk to, I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, one that was free of manipulation. It was a smile that spoke of trust, of vulnerability—of a rare sincerity.

“You don’t have to carry their burden alone. You can take steps, no matter how small, to free yourself from it. You have a life to live, a life that’s yours and yours alone. And if you need help to find the strength, I’ll be right here.”

Aventurine’s words were a promise. He knew the weight of guilt and the poison of family ties that bound you, but he also knew the cost of survival. And he wasn’t about to let you drown in that cycle of pain. With time, you’d find your way, just as he had.

But for now, the most important thing he could offer was his unwavering support—no manipulation, no gamble. Just presence.

[slaaverin]

This fandom banned together with a bunch of homophobic solos and toxic shippers to make sure Jikook did not win an award for a harmless show. How embarrassing, cause now Jikook will see their precious "Army" they love & give their all too, is a group of insecure, homophobic, jealous haters who feel entitlement over them and wants to control their lives and will purposely sabotage Jikook if they piss them off and don't give them what they want. It's gonna be an eye opener for Jikook, cause now they moved in to purposely sabotaging voting, charting and messing with their careers over their own fantasies & made up ships. Maybe its time to put this fandom in their place. Other artists would've already addressed their toxic fanbases. Hybe needs stop pressuring grown men to keep shippers happy and please solos who built a Para-social relationship with them, cause its actually starting to negatively affect their careers when they get hurt, esp Jimin and Jk's.

If I were a tkk or a JK solo right about now tho, I'd be scared of Jeon Jungkook. He ain't like the others. He will give you a piece of his mind. I know its been brewing in him since they announced their joint enlistment and AYS and the mass hate train & tagging the military started. I know that man is harboring anger he's ready to let out. Esp with ignoring him saying not to come to his house and now y'all camping out there. I can't wait for June and pissed off unfiltered JK is released back into the wild. good luck.

Haha anon you made me laugh 😂

I really can't help but share your sentiment.

This fandom needs to watch out for JK, because if anything is said it will be from him.

And sooner rather than later imo.

He already lived freely before, after MS he will live even more freely.

So who the heck knows what might happen.

What will be the tipping point to make him finally snap?

I guess we'll see. But at this moment I will truly be glad. This fandom needs a shake up for real.

[onlyangel4]

picking up the broken pieces. seth rollins. roman reigns. part two.

cheater!seth rollins x reader. roman reigns x reader.

synopsis: after your world turns upside down overnight, roman is there to help you put the pieces back together.

faceclaim: eiza gonzález

part one // part two

series taglist: @tinyxrose @daemyratwst

authors note: no hate at all to seth and becky i love them so much this is just for the plot. this is going to be quite a few parts. do comment if you want to be tagged in this series.

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showing up at charlotte flair's house uninvited probably was not the best decision that roman had ever made in his life but he needed to see you. he needed to be there for you. you had been for him before, in the smallest of ways.

he could remember a time after a particularly difficult match you had swung by his dressing room with a bottle of water and a cookie that you had baked at the home you shared with seth. it was a smile action on your behalf but it had pulled roman out of his head and brought him back down to earth. he had been incredibly grateful for you.

he wasn't even sure if you would consider him a friend but he saw you in that light. he cared about you even if you did not talk often. he had always thought that you could do way better than seth but you had been happy with him and that was enough for roman.

when roman arrived at charlotte's house he could see your car parked in the drive and a sigh of relief left his lips. you were here and that meant that you were safe, that was what meant the most to roman. he parked his own car before walking to the front door knocking on it.

a stunned charlotte opened the door looking at him with a furrowed brow, "roman, what are you doing here?", she spoke keeping her voice hushed.

"is she here?"

charlotte didn't even need to ask who he was talking about. she simply stepped out of her front door shutting it behind her before turning to face him, "she is upstairs, asleep. she got here at 6am", charlotte explained, failing to notice you wrapped in a blanket peering out of the window.

"how is she?"

charlotte let out a humourless laugh, "about as good as a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend could ever be"

"has he tried to see her?"

"becky and him were calling her so much that she threw her phone at the wall and smashed it, things fucked"

"i just needed to know that she is okay, we don't talk much but i was worried"

"i know, she has this energy, like sunshine and the idea of him ruining that has made me so angry", charlotte spoke and roman nodded in agreement.

roman was about to thank charlotte for looking after you and leave but the faint sound of the doorhandle rattling caused his eyes to shoot to the doorway.

and there you were wrapped up in a blanket, hair a mess, eyes red and puffy from the countless tears that had fallen from them and as soon as he saw you roman felt a deep anger in his soul, how could someone do this to you?

you didn't say anything as you stepped towards him, he instinctively opened his arms and you collided into his chest recieving the tighest hug from the man, more tears fell from your eyes and onto his shirt. his large hand rubbed your back, "i don't know what i did wrong"

"nothing, you did nothing wrong y/n", he whispered softly. he waited for you to pull away from the hug before looking down at you, "you are going to be okay. you have me and charlotte. we will make sure you are okay. we are here for you", he spoke the words like a vow.

y/ninsta

liked by charlottewwe, romanreigns, paulheyman and 682,982 others

tagged: charlotteflair

y/ninsta: the rumours are not true. i am not leaving the wwe and that is all thanks to this woman (and a couple others) who have been my support system at this time. thank you to everyone who has been there for me, especially you charlotte. i don't know what i would've done without you.

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: back on raw tonight, missed y'all

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in the middle of everything you did contemplate moving companies, just to get away from it but that felt like a major coward move in your opinion. you would be running away from everything that had happened instead of facing it face on in order to get proper closure.

today was going to be an easy one, cut a promo that you are back and better than ever, get interrupted by liv morgan, have an argument in the middle of the ring, setting up a singles match between the two of you, no actual fighting just a way for you to ease yourself in without pushing yourself too far.

you had been walking backstage of the arena looking for a quiet place to prepare yourself when your eyes landed on a pacing roman.

when his eyes landed on you, his pacing immediately stopped. as he turned his head to give you a smile. you and roman had text and called quite a bit after that day at charlotte's house but with his busy schedule this was your first time seeing him in person.

"you look good", he said, his voice a little lower than usual.

"well i was a mess the last time you saw me so anything is better than that", you said with a small laugh.

"you look good when your crying too", he chuckled and you just shook your head at him with a smile.

he opened his mouth to say something else something about how proud he was, how strong you’d been but he knew you didn’t need to hear that right now. instead, he took a step closer.

"you sure you’re ready for this?"

"i have to be, everyone needs to know i'm not just going to disappear because of what happened" you said quietly, the edge of nerves creeping into your tone.

"then go out there and remind them who the hell you are."

that comment made you smile softly, "thank you for your support roman", you said honestly, "are you sticking about?"

"i'm not missing this"

he ended up walking you right to where you were entering from and when your music hit you gave him a wink and then walked out into the arena, the cheers from the crowd swallowing you whole.

you climbed through the ropes of the ring grabbing the microphone that was handed to you, "you know i've been away for a while", you started and the crowd began chanting 'we missed you'

"i missed you too" you started again, "i just needed sometime to sort some stuff out, and you know at one point there i wasn't sure if i was actually ever going to come back", the crowd went silent.

"but i realised something. when everything felt like it was falling apart, the world crumbling around me, this ring still felt like home. no matter everything life threw at me, i was still dreaming of the day i got to come back here and come back to you lovely people to do what i love the most.", the crowd cheered again.

"so anyone back there that thinks that they can break my soul, you are going to have to try a lot harder because i belong here. in this ring"

you were confused, liv's music should be playing by now that was the plan but instead you felt a strong impact on your back. a chair shot. they were easy to to take when you expected them but this was unexpected and hard. you fell down onto the mat dropping the mic.

a mic the assailant picked up, "you talk too much", becky's voice rang in your ears before she walked out of the ring leaving you there dumbfounded.

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roman was quick to come looking for you after what had happened. you had not told him that the plan was to have becky interrupt you, he could have sworn liv was supposed to be the one to call you out.

his suspicions were confirmed when he heard your voice down the hall and he began to follow it.

"what the fuck happened out there!", you were shouting

and when roman entered the room he realised you were shouting at adam pearce.

"she told me she spoke to you, decided that it was best for business"

"what is best for business?", you spoke not shouting now but still rage in your system.

"she wants a match against you at wrestlemania"

"oh fuck that", you spoke shaking your head. roman gently reached a hand out placing it on your shoulder, in an effort to help calm you down from your heightened emotional state.

"it would have a lot of public interest", adam continued, people love your story.

"it isn't a story it actually happened", you retorted.

"think about it y/n it would be good for the company"

"no i'm not-"

"make it a mixed tag match", roman interrupted and your head whipped round to look at him.

"becky and seth, you and me"

"you want me to go against my ex boyfriend and ex best friend"

"you said you wanted closure"

"there is no way they would let us win", you spoke.

"then we are going to have to win properly, not rely on them to sell moves"

your eyes looked at adam, "could we do that?"

"i'd have to talk to them but it would work"

"oh so you will tell them about that but not me about becky", you spoke still salty from earlier

"wait", roman interrupted, "let me tell seth, next week. i won't play dirty, won't lay a hand on him i just want to be the one to tell him"

adam paused for a moment weighing up his options in his mind.

"you really won't touch him"

"i promise"

"okay you can tell him next week"

and with that adam left the room leaving you and roman alone.

"are we really doing this?"

"not only are we doing this, we are going to win this", roman spoke tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

and you began to believe him.