#and i didn't completely burn myself out doing it!

[theshiftingwitch]

Hi!

I have horrible OCD and I can’t get my mind to understand the way I need to differentiate between my desired reality and my thoughts.

I’ve been struggling with it for months because of coaches and people always saying our thoughts are what create our reality. Since I’ve come to understand that the 4D and our imagination creates our reality, and reality is an echo of our thoughts, it’s really fucked up my entire faith and I can’t trust my own words and desires anymore.

I can only bring myself to manifest smaller things like money, or clearer skin and longer hair etc because of fears. My mind has convinced me I have illness and that Ill never get to reality shift because of my OCD, and what’s so scary is that it feels so real.

I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know how to release this energy of constantly being convinced there’s illness in me or my own parent, I have no idea what I can visualize to make things better because my mind just shows me images of me and my parent sick all day. I don’t know what mindset I can have apart from the fact that reality is an echo of our thoughts.

Do I continue to affirm that my desired thoughts obliterates and destroys my fears of illness even thought I constantly get scary images that feel so real? I don’t have anyone who understands my problems at such a spiritual level and I’ve tried so hard to find meditations exactly for this but none of them fit to my standards.

I’m so tired and I’m almost completely giving up due to how real my OCD feels. It’s always surrounding illness in the stomach area which has created this horrible stuck energy that almost fuels my OCD. When Im most terrified what can I do?

What do I do?

Sorry for the long message! 🫶🏻🥺

Hello!

Surprisingly, this is not the first ask I get about manifesting/shifting while struggling with OCD (I'll leave the links down for you)

First, I have to say this because I can't, in good conscience, give you my advice without letting you know : I am not a professional. Manifestation and loa and shifting are not a replacement for professional help, so if you can, please speak to someone who knows what they're doing when it comes to complex mental health.

You said you can only bring yourself to manifest small things, then you listed things people have been struggling with for months! There are no small or big manifestations, everything is of equal value when it comes to loa, so already you've proven to be a powerful manifestor.

And yet, as powerful as you are, you haven't been able to manifest this illness that plagues your mind. You're not sick, your family is not sick, you're all doing just fine. So why is it that this particular thought didn't manifest when we always say that our thoughts create our realities?

The mind is a complex thing, and your subconscious is a sponge that absorbs whatever you tell it without debate or questions. However, manifesting is not simply thinking a thought and letting it come into your reality. Manifestation requires clear DESIRE. It needs a strong intention and a burning desire for that which you WANT to manifest. If you're thinking a thought and it feels so real and yet the whole time your mind is going " I don't want this! I don't want this outcome! Please don't bring this into my 3d reality, this feels awful, I don't like this! Make it stop" you're signalling to your subconscious mind that this is not a desire, so it gets handled as such.

Intrusive thoughts are just that, a thought that doesn't belong and is intruding on your normal line of thinking. You can't manifest that which you do not desire. Your mind is smarter than that, the universe is smarter than that!

Check out these posts if you have more questions about this, and happy manifesting ❤️

[fandomtherapy44]

Coffee Meet-Ups Sam Winchester x Fem! Reader One Shot!

summary: Y/n needs a tutor, and Sam is happy to help.

Warnings: A little bit of cussing, kissing

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WC: 1,434

AN: Hey Ya'll, I thought I would do a fluff fic for our boy Sam Winchester, I've done fics for Cas and Dean, so I thought it was time for Sam. I also just put out a Dean Fic with smut if you're interested, I hope you guys enjoy!

The air is crisp and cool leaves are falling down, the sky is full of orange and brown. I could see my breath make puffs like I was smoking. People in Harvard sweaters were walking to their classes. A slight hint of cinnamon and apple drafting through the atmosphere really gives you the Fall feel. A real Gilmore Girls picture. Too bad I didn’t have the time to enjoy it. I am currently running to make it to my tutor meeting on time. 

“Excuse me!” I said rushing in between and out of people making it look like I was crazy.

I finally made it to the on-campus coffee shop. And there is my tutor looking very disappointed while looking at his watch and then at me like a mother would if you missed curfew.

“Hey, Steve I am so ready to learn all about the integration of advanced criminal law.” I try to soften everything with a smile. 

“Great, my suggestion is to sit down and open the book I’ll see you around.” He walks past me and I grab his arm.

“Wait Steve, please I will fail this class without you.” I pleaded almost begging.

“Y/n you are smart but you don’t imply yourself enough and I don’t have the time to do it for you, good luck.” With that, he turns and walks out letting the cold hit me with the realization that I no longer had the very expensive tutor that my parents were paying for. I sighed deeply racking my brain about what I was going to do and turned and ran into someone and something hot.

“Ah fuck! Shit holy that fucking-” I looked up and I saw one of the cutest guys I had ever seen. And suddenly my burn from the coffee didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry, here sit down I'll bring napkins.” he leads me to a chair very carefully. He brings napkins with cold water on them. “Agan I am very sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going and I-” He stops and does the same thing I did. 

“I’m babbling and this is the the first thing I should have asked, are you okay?” His eyes peer into mine and they are a deep chocolate brown.

“Yeah, I'm okay nothing like a mini heart attack to start the day.” I joke to lighten the mood.

“Definitely, I’m Sam.” He brings out his hand to shake. I take it and he has a nice firm handshake. 

“Y/n, so where were you going with such hot coffee so early?”

“Just classes.” 

I then see the books he’s carrying.

“So law huh? Same here.” He looks kind of shocked at that.

“Really what made you want to do law?” He asks now intrigued.

“I want to… make a difference really fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves, basic I know.” I picked at my fingernails to try to distract myself from my own self-deprecation.

“No no, I like that, a lot of people become lawyers for the wrong reasons.”

“Well, it's not like I'll even be able to come one.” 

“Why?” He asked with true wonder for some reason about a stranger.

“I am totally failing my classes that’s why I was actually here I was meeting my tutor but I screwed that up too.” 

Sam then gets an idea.

“How about I tutor you.” He says with complete seriousness.

“What no I couldn't ask you to do that Sam, I'm sure you're super busy.” I blinked my eyes not believing the offer.

“Well you're not asking I’m offering, it can be me making it up to you for spilling coffee on you so what do you say?” I look at him and his sincerity in his eyes and for some reason I believe him which is weird for a guy I barely know.

“Okay, you are on Sam.” We shake on it.

I am actually early for once to a tutor meeting. Books open, coffee ready. I didn't want to waste Sam’s time. He walks in looking cute without even trying he’s in some jeans and a brown sweatshirt matching his hair. 

“Hey, you ready?” He sat down and pulled out his book.

“Yes teach!” I pulled out my pencil and was ready. 

“Ok good.” He chuckles at enthusiasm. “So let’s start with chapter fifteen…”

About two hours later I had been taught and understood more about law than I had from my tutors and teacher. 

“Wow, Sam, I think you're the best I've ever had.” I blush at what I just said and try to quickly backpedal. “I mean I the best tutor I mean.” I mentally slap my forehead.

“Thank you and you are welcome. And you are the best student I've had.” He smiles at my clumsy put together complement.

“No way I mean I got like ten questions wrong.” I was flattered but a little shocked at that.

“Yeah I mean I don’t usually tutor and you actually want to learn unlike some people here.” 

“You don’t usually tutor then why me?” I asked hoping that it wasn't pity.

“I saw you're potential and thought you deserved a chance too.” 

I didn’t even notice that tears were in my eyes.

“Thank you, Sam. I won’t let you down!” I gave a big smile and a thumbs up.

“I know.” 

It had been about two weeks into these tutor sessions with Sam and the information was actually sticking like never before we also had started to build a friendship.

“So worst injury from when you were a kid, go.” I half demanded in a friendly way while sipping my coffee we had been an hour in but got distracted by talking about our childhoods I can't even remember who asked the first question.

He sits back in his chair thinking for a moment. “Mhh I broke my arm when I was four.”  

My eyes light in surprise. “Really!? How?” 

“I had followed my brother on top of a shed and we were dressed as Superman and Batman and he had convinced me that I could actually fly so I jumped off and lold and behold I broke my arm so Dean had to take me in his handlebars on his fisher price bike.” he finished off with laughing and I joined in.

“Wow, I don’t know if I can top that.” I slapped his arm.

“Oh come on it’s your turn.” 

“Okay well, when I was six I sprang my ankle.” I see his face and he tries to hold back his laugh. “Hey hey, I never said it was good.” I also laugh.

“Well, I guess it's good that it wasn't worse but it doesn't really make for a good story.”

“That’s what I told you!” I then think about my test.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can pass this test?” I picked at my fingernails again.

He grabbed my hand. And directed my head to meet his.

“I fully believe in you Y/n, you are going to be a damn good lawyer.” Again I look into his eyes and believe him.

I grab my test and run to find Sam. I ran through in-between other people not caring if I bumped into them. 

“Sam! SAM!” I yelled all the way to the coffee shop with the test paper in my hand arm raised looking crazy. And I did not care. I get there and see him in there standing in line. I pulled open the door and full on ran to him.

“Sam SAM! LOOK! LOOK!” Everyone looks at me with a look at this girl who belongs in the coo-coo place. “Sam I passed!” I hand the paper to him he takes it studies it and sees the grade.

“I knew you could go it!” He picks me up in a hug and spins around in excitement. He puts me down both of us high and giddy from the good news our eyes met and we both decide to go for it. We meet in the middle of a sweet kiss. It was slow with a tiny bit of earning behind it. His lips were a bit chapped but still soft somehow. We both let go at the same time.

“Wow, that was amazing.” He said while gently grabbing my hand.

“Really, me too.” I smiled at our hands joined. “I guess it’s lucky you bumped into me.”

“And I guess I'm lucky you needed a tutor.” I giggle at that and we kiss again.

Thank you for reading!

[ilovedthestars]

update: i have done most of the things!

i have. too many things to do.

[chalkrub]

attack for @plaiesancier !

[faillen]

realized moments ago that i'm almost out of my fragrance of choice (the pran fragrance!) and truly like. idk, adulthood is a series of letting yourself use up the things that make you feel good, huh?

[g8d]

i tried so hard to be kind and sweet and all of these things that are supposed to be good? and valued? but im alone again and i dont think ill ever not be

[dragonfyre-creations]

I don't think I've ever poured so many of my physical attributes and so much of my heart and soul into a character design before in such a personal way before so fuck it whenever I finish the final design for Faeng and whatever I come up with I'm making her into my sona (dragonsona? Persona? Idk how this works lmfao)

(long dump in the tags and under the cut)

The last time I was even remotely connected this much to a character was when I designed Jaxsu, but honestly never truly made her my sona/main character, she was just the one I used most often in art pieces. I never really actually liked her lore and backstory enough because she was what I wanted to be instead of what I am/was. Jax isnt perfect either, but her parents love her and otherwise has friends and is loved unconditionally. She has a healthy relationship with everyone and everything. This is where the disconnect happened and where I actually started to dislike her despite her being my otherwise favorite character for awhile. Both Faeng and Jaxsu have ADHD and Autism but Jaxsu was able to put that towards a job and becoming a ship captain and winning a colosseum tournament. She's done all of these great things so even if she didn't have a healthy relationship with her parents they'd still love her because she's done something impressive and useful.

Faeng on the other hand, has to fight for everything. Her parents are important and have important jobs, and place all of these unreachable and unrealistic expectations on her and expect her to reach them with minimal effort and be perfect, but she can't no matter how hard she tries. She needs someone to explain it and break it down for her in steps so she understands what do to and how to do it so she doesn't mess it up. She's both strong and smart but it's not in practical "normal" ways or subjects. It's convoluted, It's not in the ways everyone wants her to be, she has no teachers to help her understand how to channel that strength and intelligence into something "useful" so she puts it towards the things she likes and wants to do, and thus struggles in a world that would otherwise be easy to navigate and conquer if she were "normal". Those that do understand her and try to help her are alienated by other people in an attempt to either punish both of them or force her to adapt to be somewhat passing as normal, if not then at least listen to what she's told to do. She does eventually make acquaintances but find that her twisted speech and weird explanations aren't worth trying to decipher and understand so they leave, they don't put in the effort to meet her halfway even though she's struggling and doing her best to speak in a way they'll understand.

Her parents acknowledge her differences but in a way that frames it as flawed and wrong, something that needs to be corrected, and push her to figure out her problems by herself, tearing down any support network she tries to build. She tries her damned hardest but it's not enough, it never is and never will be for them because she's not the perfect child they wanted. She showed promise in her younger years being a "gifted child" so she knows what love and acceptance lies in wait and what could be if she could just be normal and perfect. Her achievements and promise come and show in waves. She burns and fizzles out in one of the most virulent, painful ways possible after getting hurt trying to prove her worth yet again. She holds nothing but criticism, vitriol and contempt for herself because she can't claw her way back to where she was before, this time something happened and something is terribly, horribly wrong this time but she doesn't know that it is and can't figure it out, nor will anyone tell her. Whatever it is, left a mental and several physical injuries and it does nothing but deepen her self hatred and her parent's waning belief in her. She listens to false promises and praise of other people who do nothing but wish to manipulate and harm her but she stays because any form of praise is deemed good, she hungers for more and does worsening things.

She ignores the people who tell her that what she's doing is dangerous and will only end in disaster, because she doesn't believe them. If the people who are saying they're her friends are telling her that the people she hurts deserve it and that what she's doing is good, then surely she needs to believe them over strangers, right? Everything comes to a breaking point and shatters around her leaving her with quite literally nothing but her own self hatred, newfound rage and overbearing mental issues she needs to navigate once again to find out what hell it is and what's wrong with her now. She's scared of everyone and everything with the added bonus of now being hyper-aware and perceptive of people's mannerisms and behaviors, especially those who want to manipulate or harm her again. She wraps every vulnerable part of herself in metaphorical thorns and teeth to bite and maim whoever pries and digs into what she truly is, even people who want to understand her. She suffers at more than her own hand, forcing herself to deal with everything alone, until she finally meets someone that could be considered a true friend. She slowly opens up and helps them as much as they help her before everything comes crashing back down once again upon the reveal that they've been lying to her the entire time about very serious issues, and she's been used as nothing more than an attack dog once again. She burns every bridge and everyone around her in one final breakdown of rage before shutting down completely. One of the groups of friends she's shoved stay comes back and asks if she's ok. She doesn't understand why they're being kind, why they're concerned it why they care and tries to shove them away again. Every single day they still ask, talking even if there's no response from her, until she finally relents and breaks.

She's finally loved and accepted despite every fault and every flaw she has, and every time she tries to pull away out of fear of being an inconvenience they pull back twice as hard and remind her that she's able to just exist, she doesn't need to constantly be useful and that they care. She finally, finally is comfortable enough to let herself be accepted and then becomes the most clingy little shit, just as they do with her. But yeah, my own life has been very much of the same, especially the last part. Every time I go on another self-hatred spiral and drop off the face of the earth my MonHun bros give me a metaphorical slap to the face and remind me that I don't need to constantly prove my worth to everyone and prove that I'm useful, and that existing every once in awhile is more than enough. If that doesn't work then it's "you need to get your ass back over here because we're failing the Safi siege without the absolutely ridiculous amount of DPS your build Switchaxe does". I was not intending for her to be so much like me but goddamnit she's wormed her way into being my favorite now and I guess Mirage is no longer my impromptu sona

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[beeseverywhen]

Oversharing time:

Just remembered years ago when I was working in a pretty high up office block and they were having to write a fire plan cause my knees are pretty resistant to stairs and management's answer was just that I wait in the burning building until a fireman came to get me, to which I was pretty much like 'yeah I don't think so. I'll make do with the stairs.'

They were really touchy about this and were like 'we need to account for your disability, we can't leave you to do stairs by yourself when we know you might not be able to' so they wanted me to pick a 'buddy' as in a colleague that would evacuate by my side. So i pick 2 of my friends (one as a backup) and the manager is still like 'but what if your leg isn't working that day what do we do' and she's also like 'I didn't even know you knew him, why is he your first pick?' So I'm like, look off record, I've picked buddy 1 for a reason. He isn't my closest work friend but I do know he's capable of carrying me down the stairs if necessary and the manager is like, have you asked him if he can do that? And I'm like. No. I know he can. Don't sweat it.

And she's going look, I know you're small but you can't just assume that any man is capable of carrying you down multiple flights of stairs, he could have a weak back and I'm like, look I 100% know he can carry me, trust me. She kept questioning it until I was eventually like 'look I know he can because we are friends outside of work and he has carried me, easily, before' and tried to shut down the convo.

This unfortunately seemed to raise more questions which was awkward because in reality we were not particularly close friends in or outside of work, it was just that I'd been lowkey fucking him on and off for years (in that messed up early 20s, we could make each other worse kind of way) and knew that he could very easily fuck me standing up for an extended period. We were not friends because we didn't particularly like each other lol but I did trust that he would not leave anyone to burn in a fire, and that carrying me down those flights of stairs would be no sweat off his back

[hannie-roses]

First Time

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x fem¡reader

Sypnosis: Niki takes the initiative, guiding Y/N into an intimate world of exploration and vulnerability. As they share their first experience This is a short story of first love, where the thrill of losing their virginity intertwines with the discovery of trust and the intoxicating depth of their connection.

Warnings: oral, fingering, dick sucking. Loss of virginity, subtle degradation,nipple play, raw sex, use of the name daddy, hair pulling, rough sex.

Word count: 2,509

!MINORS DNI!

Niki's fingers traced gentle patterns across Y/N's skin, sending shivers down her spine. She was nervous, but also excited. This was their first time, and she trusted Niki completely.

"Relax," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "I've got you."

He began to kiss her, his lips moving slowly and deliberately across her jawline and down her neck. Y/N moaned softly, her body responding to his touch.

Niki's hands moved lower, exploring her body with a gentle yet confident touch. He ran his fingers over her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "I can't believe I get to have you all to myself."

Y/N blushed at his words, feeling a rush of heat between her legs. She arched her back, pressing her body closer to his.

Niki took the hint and began to kiss his way down her body, his lips trailing over her stomach and down to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He parted her legs gently, his eyes locked on hers as he positioned himself between them.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on Niki's as he began to kiss her inner thighs. She could feel herself getting wetter and more aroused with every touch of his lips.

Niki continued to tease her, his tongue tracing delicate patterns across her skin. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body responding to his every move.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I love how your body reacts to my touch."

He moved higher, his mouth hovering just above her clit. He could see how wet she was, and it made him even more excited.

He looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire. "Can I taste you?" he asked, his voice rough with need.

Y/N nodded again, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked down at Niki. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, her body aching for his touch.

Niki wasted no time, his mouth closing over her clit and sucking gently. Y/N cried out, her body arching off the bed as pleasure shot through her.

"Oh gosh," she gasped, her fingers tangling in Niki's hair. "That feels so good."

Niki hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He began to move his tongue in slow circles, exploring every inch of her with a skillful touch.

Y/N moaned and writhed beneath him, completely lost in the sensations he was creating. She had never felt anything like this before, and it was almost overwhelming.

"Please," she begged, her voice trembling with need. "Don't stop."

Niki continued to lick and suck on Y/N's clit, his tongue moving with a skillful precision that made her toes curl. He could feel her getting wetter and wetter, her juices coating his lips and chin.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. "And your pussy is so good. I could do this all day."

Y/N moaned in response, her hips bucking up against his mouth. She was close, so close to the edge.

Niki could sense it, and he redoubled his efforts, his tongue working even faster and harder. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her g-spot as he continued to lick and suck on her clit.

Y/N cried out, her body shaking with pleasure as she came hard. Niki didn't stop, he kept going until she was trembling and gasping for breath.

As Y/N came down from her orgasm, Niki continued to move his fingers inside her, slowly and gently. He could feel her walls fluttering around him, still sensitive from her release.

"Your pussy is so tight," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "But my fingers are long enough to reach all the way inside you."

He began to move his fingers in and out, curling them up to hit her g-spot with each thrust. Y/N moaned softly, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"You're so wet," he said, his eyes fixed on hers. "I love how easily my fingers slide in and out of you."

He began to move faster, his fingers pumping in and out of her with a steady rhythm. Y/N could feel another orgasm building, her body tensing up in anticipation.

As Niki continued to finger Y/N, he could see the desire in her eyes. He knew what she wanted, and he was more than happy to give it to her.

He pulled his fingers out of her and sat up, looking down at her with a smirk. "I think it's my turn now," he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on his hard cock. She had never seen anything like it before, and she was both nervous and excited.

Niki moved closer to her, positioning himself so that his cock was right in front of her face. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/N did as she was told, opening her mouth wide and looking up at Niki with a mixture of anticipation and awe.

His cock was long and thick, with prominent veins running along the shaft. It was a beautiful sight, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as she looked at it.

Niki guided his cock into her mouth, letting out a low groan as her lips closed around him. She began to suck gently, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

"That's it," he murmured, his eyes fixed on her face. "Take me deeper."

Y/N took Niki's cock deeper into her mouth, her lips stretching around him as she tried to take as much of him as she could. She could feel him hitting the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, but she didn't stop.

Niki moaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he watched her work. "You're doing so good," he praised, his voice thick with desire. "You're taking me so well."

Y/N felt a rush of pride at his words, and she began to move faster, bobbing her head up and down on his cock. She could taste the precum leaking from the tip, and it only made her more determined to please him.

Niki's grip on Y/N's hair tightened as she continued to suck him off, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to control himself. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he didn't want to come yet.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," he gasped, his eyes fixed on her face. "I don't want to come yet, but I can't hold on much longer."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire. She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around the head of his cock.

"Come in my mouth," she said, her voice hoarse from sucking him. "I want to taste you."

Niki groaned at her words, his body shuddering with pleasure. He couldn't resist her any longer.

"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice strained. "Are you ready?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on his as she continued to suck him off. She was determined to make him come, to give him the pleasure he deserved.

With a low cry, Niki came, his cock pulsing in her mouth as he spilled his release down her throat. Y/N swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him on her tongue.

Niki pulled out of Y/N's mouth and collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at her with a mixture of awe and desire, his eyes burning with intensity.

"You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "I've never felt anything like that before."

He rolled over on top of her, pinning her down to the bed with his body. He began to kiss her, his lips moving hungrily over hers as he positioned himself between her legs.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her body arching up against his. She could feel his cock pressing against her entrance, and she knew what was coming next.

Niki broke the kiss, looking down at her with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "Are you ready for me to take you?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on Niki's as he positioned himself at her entrance. She was more than ready for him, her body aching with need.

Niki pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched as her face contorted with pleasure, her lips parting in a silent gasp.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel so good around me."

He began to move, thrusting in and out of her at a steady pace. He was gentle at first, but as he felt her body respond to his touch, he began to pick up the pace.

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. She met his thrusts with her own, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

Niki's thrusts grew harder and faster as he continued to move inside Y/N, his hips snapping against hers with each thrust. He could feel her hymen breaking, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

"You're mine now," he growled, his voice filled with possessiveness. "I'm the first one to take you, and I'll be the only one."

He reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. He began to kiss and bite at her skin, leaving marks that would surely bruise.

Y/N moaned in response, her body arching up against his. She loved the feeling of being dominated by him, of being completely at his mercy.

Niki's hands moved to her breasts, his fingers finding her nipples and pinching them roughly. Y/N gasped, her body trembling with pleasure and pain.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You like it when I play with your nipples."

"You're such a dirty girl," Niki said, his voice filled with contempt. "Look at you, taking my cock like a good little slut."

Y/N moaned again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. She loved the way he talked to her, the way he degraded her. It made her feel dirty and used, and she loved it.

Niki continued to pound into her, his hips slamming against hers with each thrust. He could feel himself getting close, but he wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

"I bet you've been waiting for this," he said, his voice rough with exertion. "Waiting for someone to come along and claim you. Well, you're mine now. And I'm going to use you however I want."

"You're so obedient," Niki said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You do everything I tell you to do. You're like a puppet, and I'm the one pulling the strings."

He leaned down and bit her earlobe, hard enough to make her cry out in pain.

"Tell me how much you love this," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Tell me how much you love being used by me."

"I-I love it," Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure and shame. "I love being used by you. I'm yours to do whatever you want."

Niki grinned, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "That's right," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more forceful. Y/N could feel herself getting closer to the edge, her body tensing up with each movement.

"P-please don’t stop~" she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Niki pulled out of Y/N and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

"You're going to take it like a good little slut," he growled, as he slid back inside her. "And you're going to call me Daddy while I do it."

Y/N moaned as he began to thrust into her from behind, the new angle hitting her in all the right places. She could feel him pulling her hair, using it as leverage to control her movements.

"D-Daddy," she gasped, the word coming out in a stutter. "Please, harder."

Niki obliged, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he pounded into her. He reached around and grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back and holding them there.

"You're so tight like this," he grunted, his grip on her wrists tightening. "I can feel every inch of you."

He leaned down and bit her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. "You're mine," he whispered in her ear. "And you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. Understand?"

Niki continued to pound into Y/N, his hips slamming against her ass with each thrust. He could feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, her body trembling with pleasure.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice rough with exertion. "You're going to come for me, and you're going to scream my name when you do."

Y/N moaned in response, her face buried in the pillow. She was too lost in the pleasure to speak, but she couldn't deny the truth of his words.

Niki reached down and grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back so that she was forced to look at him.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Say my name."

"N-Niki," Y/N gasped, her voice barely audible. "I'm going to cum. Niki, please."

Niki slapped her ass hard, the sound echoing through the room. "Louder," he commanded. "I want everyone to hear you."

Y/N cried out, the sting of his hand on her skin only adding to her pleasure. "Niki!" she screamed, her body convulsing as she came hard.

Niki continued to thrust into Y/N as she came, prolonging her orgasm as long as possible. He could feel his own release building, and with a final thrust, he pulled out cumming on her.

He collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving with exertion. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You were amazing."

Y/N snuggled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She was sore and exhausted, but she had never felt so satisfied in her life.

"I love you too." she whispered back, her voice soft and sleepy.

Niki held her close, stroking her hair gently as they lay together in silence. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found someone like her.

[hanaonesflower]

“let me do this for you.”

“let me get that for you.”

“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.

"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"

"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."

you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.

you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.

"this is getting out of control, kento."

"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."

nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.

so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.

"kento! what happened?!"

"nothing to worry about my l-"

"enough! tell me, now."

your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.

"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."

"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."

"it's not that bad."

you glare.

"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."

"I bet it does."

you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.

there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.

"you haven't been yourself lately."

silence.

"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."

kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.

a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.

"that's really how you feel?"

"have I been absent to you, y/n?"

you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.

"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."

"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.

"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."

"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."

truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"

"is it working?"

he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.

"I think it's very kind of you."

he sighs.

"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."

"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."

“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.

“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.

“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.

“then can i say that i love you, too?”

“that, you can.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧

note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)

[formula1au]

home race

summary: it was the dutch gp that your boyfriend max verstappen won. After he saw you in his driver's room he couldn't resist you

pairing: max verstappen x gf!reader

content: fluff, smut!

warning: penetrative sex, riding, blowjob, finger sucking, no protection

word count: idk sorryyy

It was the Dutch GP, and you watched your boyfriend Max cross the checkered flag first. You knew he would win this. He's dominating the whole sport right now. He's also dominating you almost every minute in your life, but that's just him.

After he jumped out of the car, he ran to his team. They patted his back, and he looked so happy. But something was missing; he was searching for you. He quickly made his way to you and kissed you in front of the camera.

"Wait for me in the driver's room," he whispered into my ear with a smirk on his face.

I didn't even wait for the podium celebrations. I quickly walked to his driver's room and closed the door with a loud bang behind me. I was nervous and also so excited because every time he won his home grand prix, he made love to me so passionately. So it was a win for both of us. I waited for him for a long time. I forgot that he needed to do the press before he was free from all the media and work stuff. But the time finally came when the door opened and closed immediately. He locked it quickly and threw me a disappointed look.

"I thought it was clear that I wanted you naked and on your knees as soon as I arrived," he shook his head, clearly getting impatient.

"Are you deaf? Get to work," I started to undress. I didn't want him to be mad because then he would not let me climax.

After I was completely naked, he gestured for me to crawl to the couch. Max was already naked, and he looked so attractive. "Come on, baby. You're going to use that tongue of yours for something more useful," I nodded and sat between his legs. His erection was already hard and leaking.

Firstly, I teased him with gentle licks, but then I took him fully into my mouth. He started thrusting his hips into my mouth. Tears appeared in my eyes, and he seemed to enjoy it. After some time, he gripped my hair and pushed me onto his dick. My throat had never felt worse.

"Ugh, schatje, you're going to make me cum," he moaned and then pulled me off. "Open up," he said, and I opened my mouth for him to cum straight into it.

I needed release too, so I started touching myself and grinding onto the ground. Max immediately noticed. Of course, he did.

"Is my poor little baby getting all worked up?" He pulled me into his lap and thrust his fingers into me. I cried out from the unexpected stimulation on my clit. "You're going to cum on my fingers, and then I'm going to give you my cock, okay?" He asked, even though it wasn't even a question. I was his to do whatever he wanted with me.

I came pretty quickly when he even started sucking hickeys into my chest and pinching my nipples until they were all red and sensitive.

"I want your dick," I whined.

"What do we say when we want something? Where are your manners, liefje?" He stroked his dick and teased my entrance with his tip.

"Please, Maxie, I need it so badly," I cried out. My thighs were still trembling from the previous orgasm.

"There's my good girl again," he slammed me down onto his cock, holding me down. The burning sensation was so pleasurable.

"Come on, make yourself feel good on my cock and make yourself cum," he drew circles into my thighs as I started riding him.

Max whispered all sorts of dirty things into my ear. After I slowed down, he flipped me onto my stomach and started thrusting into me while stimulating my clit. I came with a shout of his name.

"That's it, y/n. You're literally milking me, baby. Look at that hole of yours taking me like a champ. I'm going to cum inside you," he mumbled, and then he came inside me with a loud groan.

"I'm pulling out, baby," he kissed my shoulder blade and pulled out. I felt his and my cum leaking out of me. He pushed one finger into my entrance and then sucked it clean.

"Do you want to taste yourself?" He did the same but put the finger into my mouth. I sucked his finger clean. Then I let myself collapse on the couch.

I heard some rustling behind me, so I turned onto my back and saw Max walking with a wet towel.

"I'm going to clean you," he kissed me and then cleaned me. "You need to go pee, baby." I stood up and walked into the small bathroom in his driver's room. I peed, washed my hands, and returned.

Max has already made the couch more comfortable. He walked towards me and picked me up. Then he laid me down and lay next to me. He put a cover on us.

"What about post-sex cuddles?" He asked with a smirk.

"Mhm, that sounds amazing," I giggled and snuggled into his warm skin.

"By the way, you did so well, Maxie. I didn't have time to tell you that," he laughs and kisses me on the head. "Thank you, schatje. I did it for you. And for my family. And for the fans." We laugh together, and then the room falls into peaceful quiet.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

The dim glow of the studio lights reflected off the stacks of equipment, casting long shadows across the room. You leaned against the doorway, watching Chan furiously click through different tracks on his laptop, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The clock on the wall ticked past 2 AM, but for him, it seemed like time had no meaning. He’d been working on this track for hours, refusing to take a break even when you’d suggested it earlier. "Chan," you called out softly, but he didn’t respond. The constant hum of the music filled the space, his mind completely absorbed in his work. You sighed, stepping into the room, stifling a yawn. “You need to relax,” you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice. “You act like the world’s gonna fall apart if you don’t finish this track tonight.” His hands stilled on the keyboard. The playful smile you wore faded when he didn’t respond. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, pulling away as if your touch burned him. “I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softer this time. “You’ve been at this for hours. Just take a break. It’s not healthy to push yourself like this.” Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, but instead, he closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate movement. The air in the room seemed to thicken, tension radiating off him in waves. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to help.” He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with more force than necessary. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know it’s not healthy?" His voice was low but filled with barely restrained frustration. "I don’t have the luxury of taking breaks whenever I feel like it." Your heart sank at the bitterness in his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished. “Every time I stop, every time I take a moment for myself, I fall behind. I have responsibilities, expectations-” He finally looked up at you, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something deeper, something raw. “I’m the leader. I’m the one holding everything together.” You felt a lump form in your throat as you realized how deeply you’d misunderstood the situation. You had meant your words lightly, but they had triggered something in him - something he had been keeping bottled up for too long. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, taking a cautious step toward him. He looked tired. Oh so tired. And while you were more than sure people had seen his tiredness, you knew that they weren't aware of even the fraction of exhaustion he was feeling now that you were looking at it from two feet away. “I just…I didn’t realize how much pressure you were under. I mean I was aware, but I didn't think it was to this extent.” Chan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t realize because I don’t show it. I can’t afford to.” The room was suffocatingly silent, the weight of his confession sinking in. You had never seen him like this- — so vulnerable, so... broken. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t appreciate everything you do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know how hard you work, Chan.” He shook his head, his expression distant, as though he were already miles away from you, even while standing right there. “Just... leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned away from you, walking toward the door. “I need to finish this.” You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but the look in his eyes had warned you against it. There was a wall between you now — one you hadn’t meant to build but had somehow erected with a few careless words. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty studio, your heart heavy with regret and a sinking feeling that you’d hurt him far more than you’d ever intended.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

It had been a long day, and as you and Minho sat together in the living room of your apartment, the remnants of dinner still scattered across the table, you found yourself in one of those easy conversations where words flowed without much thought. You both had been teasing each other, poking fun at small quirks and habits, but then you said something - a single sentence that changed everything. "You can be so cold sometimes, Minho." You laughed. It slipped out so casually, but the moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had made a mistake. The room seemed to freeze, the playful banter dying on your lips as you watched Minho’s expression shift. His face went from light-hearted to something unreadable - his eyes darkening, his smile fading into a thin line. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence in the room grew suffocating. "Cold, huh?" His voice was quiet, almost emotionless, but you could feel the tension building in him, like a storm just waiting to break. He traced his index finger around the mug in front of him. You immediately tried to backtrack. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-" But Minho cut you off, standing up abruptly from the couch and turning his back to you. "No, I get it," he said flatly, his shoulders stiff. "You think I’m cold." The way he said it, so detached and hollow, made your stomach twist with guilt. You had known Minho long enough to realize that, behind his sharp exterior, he was someone who felt deeply, even if he didn’t always show it. But now, it seemed like you had confirmed his worst fear - that people only saw the distant, guarded version of him. "Minho, wait," you pleaded, standing up and reaching for him, but he took a step away, avoiding your touch. "Don’t," he said, his voice sharper now. "If that’s how you see me, then fine. I don’t need to hear more." You watched helplessly as he walked toward your bedroom, his posture rigid, shutting himself off from you with every step. The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing alone in the living room, your heart sinking with the weight of what had just happened. The thing about Minho was that, while he came across as tough and indifferent to most people, you knew there was a part of him that feared being misunderstood. He was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked behind that sarcastic, cool demeanor. It was one thing you loved about being with him, that you were one of the only ones who knew him well enough to see behind that exterior. To know and see him so deeply to know his true self; one that he didn't show everyone. But tonight, with one careless comment, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurity. And it hurt you that you did that. Hours passed, and the tension in the air didn’t lift. You tried knocking on the bedroom door, offering a quiet apology, but he never answered. It felt like a wall had sprung up between the two of you, one made of all the sharp edges he used to protect himself from getting hurt. That night, you lay awake, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, each time wishing you could take back the words. You had never seen Minho so distant, and the thought that you had caused it filled you with a gnawing guilt.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

It had been a tough day, the kind that leaves you exhausted to the core. Changbin had just gotten back from the studio, a heavy frown weighing down his usually bright expression. You could tell something was off the moment he walked through the door - his usual energy dampened, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

You had asked him about it, but he shrugged it off with a noncommittal, “Just tired.” Still, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Later that evening, as you both sat in the living room, watching a movie that neither of you were paying attention to, you tried again to break through the silence. Changbin was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, his jaw clenched.

“You seem really down lately,” you said gently, looking at him from across the couch. “Is everything okay?”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but still didn’t say much. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You weren’t convinced. “You don’t seem fine. You’ve been so quiet lately.”

And that’s when you said it - the words you immediately regretted.

“You’re always talking about how hard you work, but maybe you should take a break. Sometimes it’s like you think you have to prove yourself constantly...but you don’t.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You had said it because you cared, because you had watched him work himself to the bone without ever showing any signs of slowing down. But the moment the words left your lips, you saw Changbin’s entire demeanor change.

His fingers tightened around his phone, and his eyes narrowed as he set it down on the coffee table. When he looked at you, his gaze was sharp, defensive.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice low, though you could hear the edge in it.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I just mean...you don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time.”

His jaw clenched tighter, and suddenly, the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite grasp. Changbin sat up straighter, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at you.

“You think I’m overcompensating or something?” he asked, his tone colder than you’d ever heard from him. “Like I’m not good enough, so I have to try harder?”

You were stunned by his reaction, your heart starting to race. “No, that’s not what I meant-” You stuttered.

“Then what did you mean?” he interrupted, his voice louder now, almost confrontational. “Because it sounds like you think I’m not doing enough. Like I’m not enough.” You froze at his tone.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never seen Changbin like this - defensive, hurt, and shutting you out. He was usually the one with the most confidence, always sure of himself. But now, it was as if you had shattered something inside him, something you didn’t even know was fragile.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice faltering. “I just- I know how hard you work, and I worry about you.”

Changbin stood up, his movements tense, as if trying to escape the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. His frustration was palpable.

“Worry about me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what it’s like. You don’t get it. Everyone expects me to be this - this strong, perfect version of myself. If I stop for even a second, I feel like I’ll fall behind, like I’ll fail.”

You stood up too, reaching out for him, but he took a step back, creating more distance between you. His words cut through you like glass, the raw emotion behind them catching you off guard.

“I never said you were failing, Changbin. I just-"

“You didn’t have to,” he snapped, his voice filled with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “But that’s what it feels like. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And now you’re telling me the same thing. The one person I would think wouldn't tell me that!”

His eyes were dark, filled with frustration and hurt. The walls he had carefully built around himself over the years were crumbling, and you were standing in the wreckage, helpless to fix it.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

But he wasn’t listening. He turned away from you, his hands gripping the back of a chair, his knuckles white with tension.

“I need to be alone,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “I can’t do this right now.”

You watched him walk away, your heart breaking as the distance between you seemed to grow wider with every step he took. The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart heavy with regret.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

You hadn’t meant to upset him. The last thing you wanted was to make Hyunjin feel small or inadequate, but somehow, in the middle of a conversation that had started so innocently, you said something you couldn’t take back.

The two of you were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, an empty bowl of ice cream between you as you talked about the latest art exhibit he’d visited. Hyunjin’s eyes always lit up when he talked about art - it was a passion that fueled him just as much as music. But tonight, something was off.

He had been unusually quiet the whole evening, his usual spark dulled. You had noticed it right away but thought maybe he was just tired. Still, the longer the silence stretched, the more concerned you became.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

Hyunjin sighed, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. It’s just...I’ve been feeling a little off lately.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue. “Off? How?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before finally answering. “I’ve been feeling like...I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am. Like I’m just pretending to be this perfect version of myself. When I see other people’s work, especially in art, I can’t help but compare myself. I feel like I’ll never be able to reach that level.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you wanted to reassure him, to tell him how talented he was. But instead, without thinking, you said, “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. No one expects you to be.”

His expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, and you realized too late what you had just implied.

“So...you...think I’m not good enough?” he asked, his voice quieter but laced with hurt.

Your stomach dropped. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” His tone grew sharper, and you could see the cracks forming in the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Because it sounds like you’re saying I’m not living up to everyone’s expectations. Let alone yours.”

“I just meant you’re already enough,” you said quickly, panic rising in your chest. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t hearing you. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he began pacing around the room. His long fingers ran through his hair in frustration.

“Do you know how hard I try?” His voice wavered, a mix of anger and sadness. “Every day, I’m fighting to be better, to live up to the image everyone has of me. People look at me and expect me to be this flawless, beautiful person who has everything figured out. But I don’t! I don’t have it all together.”

You stood up, following him as he paced. “Hyunjin, I know you-”

“Do you?” He turned to face you, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion you couldn’t name. “Because it feels like you think I’m not good enough either. Like I’m just pretending.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The Hyunjin you knew - the sensitive, artistic soul who poured his heart into everything he did -was unraveling before your eyes, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“That’s not true,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I think you’re incredible. I just-”

“Then why does it feel like you don’t believe in me?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m constantly failing?”

You were at a loss for words. Every attempt to reassure him seemed to make things worse, and the walls he had put up between you were growing taller by the second.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your own tears threatening to spill over.

Hyunjin shook his head, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself together. “I just...I can’t do this right now. I need space.”

The finality in his voice made your heart break. He turned away from you, heading toward the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, alone and devastated.

The silence that followed his departure was deafening, and as you stared at the empty space where he had stood, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just lost him for good.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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[frantic-fiction]

Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated. 

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him. 

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close. 

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear. 

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are." 

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come. 

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love," 

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth." 

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control. 

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

 Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be. 

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip. 

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me." 

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface. 

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed. 

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins. 

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart. 

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes. 

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth. 

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal. 

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging. 

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm. 

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come. 

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest. 

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace. 

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you. 

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste. 

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue. 

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers. 

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach. 

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real. 

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to. 

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest. 

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to." 

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament. 

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

[lurochar]

Bad Habit

So I recently read somewhere that Alastor pulls out his hair as a stress reliever? Not sure if it's actually canon, but I thought it was interesting, so here we are!

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You feel bad, guilty.

Horrible even.

It is why you are currently sitting on Alastor’s bed, waiting for him to come back from wherever he had disappeared into the shadows.

It was okay, Alastor had given you permission to come into his room and the magic that served as his room's lock allowed your presence inside, despite how uncomfortable you felt being in the room regardless.

It hadn't been the first time you had turned down his offers of protection, companionship, and whatever else you desired. If you wanted, he would grant it to you.

Was that worth your soul?

You were scared, terrified even though Alastor assured you again, again, and again that he would never abuse your soul and it would be his greatest treasure. Hell, he had even written a contract of rules on himself pertaining what he could and couldn't do to your soul.

And tired of being frightened by this overwhelming strange one-sided courtship, you fled.

You weren't sure why Alastor allowed you to flee to begin with, perhaps he was giving you space to sort out your thoughts, but you had unconsciously glanced back towards him when you did run.

You had never seen such an expression like that on Alastor’s face before.

You couldn’t get that expression out of your mind and so, only a few hours later, you found yourself in the last place you wanted to be: Alastor’s bedroom.

Still, you couldn't describe that expression.

Irritation, anger, vexedness, longing, agitation, hunger, stress?

It floored you that Alastor could even feel so many of those emotions considering you knew his background. It stunned you even further he felt them for you since you believed he was interested in you because you were the only female deer demon – the only doe – in his territory.

Was Alastor interested in you beyond your demonic characteristics?

You jump when the shadows in the room flicker around and Alastor materializes, clearly taken back by your presence as he takes a step backwards when his red eyes land on you.

You stand from the bed, ready to apologize. “Alastor, I'm sorry about tod–” You pause, eyes widening when you notice something. “Y-your hair…!”

A large chunk of his hair is missing. It looks as though it's been torn out.

“Did you get into a fight?!” You quickly move towards him to get a better look, vaguely noting Alastor’s smile is tight and he almost resembles a trapped animal with his tense posture. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Alastor?”

Alastor stares down at your sweet concerned face and almost lets a sigh escape him. “I am fine, my dear Doe.” He resists the urge to bristle defensively when you try to get closer to where his hair is torn. “I did not go on a rampage today.”

You blink. “If… if you didn't fight anyone, what happened?” You looked back to his hair and winced. It looked painful.

Alastor’s smile widens to grotesque proportions. “I did this to myself.” His eyes watched you heatedly as you stumbled back in shock at his confession. “It's a bit of a habit, you see. I tend to rip out my hair when I'm feeling stressed to the point that even slaughter will not relieve it.”

Your ears drop.

“I never thought you would run from me, dearest. Now tell me,” Alastor’s hands are creeping up towards his head as his eyes cloud with fervour, “why are you so afraid of me?”

“Alastor!” You rush forward, clumsily pressing yourself against him and grabbing his hands with yours before he can tug at his hair again. You lace your fingers with his longer ones, feeling your face burn hotly as your body shook nervously. “W-why do you need my soul? Can't we do it all without me giving you my soul?”

Alastor tightens his fingers around yours. “I admit I am a complete novice in the area of… romance,  but is it not a romantic gesture? I would give you my soul if I were able.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh and Alastor raises a brow. “If that's what you think, then you have thousands of spouses already, including Husk.” You snicker again when Alastor’s eye twitches. 

“Husker.” Alastor utters in disbelief. “My spouse?” He looks as though he just swallowed rotten meat.

“Romance can be almost anything if the partner appreciates it.” You smile. “A flower. A walk together. Dinner with each other. Stargazing. Anything really as long as you enjoy their company.”

Alastor raises your hand slowly towards his lips and you shiver (and not from fear) as he places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “My lovely Doe, would you care to accompany me on a walk in my bayou?”

Your face softens as your eyes move towards Alastor’s missing chunk of hair. “As long as you come talk to me when you get to that point again. I don't want you hurting yourself, especially over me.”

“It's not a big deal, Darling. My hair will be grown back by tomorrow morning.” Alastor lets out a hum at your glare. “But I suppose I can if you wish.”

As long as he got his sweet Doe in the end.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt3) | Leah Williamson

A bit more of Leah while everything around you gets more intense warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 - pt4 - my masterlist

Leah's love for tennis skirts had just been solidified. She found herself frozen, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. Your video call had caught her off guard, and the first thing to greet her on the screen was you, your back facing the camera, only in your sports bra and the skirt you wore during your recent match, which had wrapped up just a few hours ago.

"Hellooo?" Leah said, gently placing her fork back onto the table.

"Just a sec!" you called out, still with your back turned to the camera.

Leah watched as you reached into your bag, pulling out a black t-shirt that you slipped on.  Unlike the tight one you wore for tennis, this one was baggy—definitely a guy’s shirt, she thought.

"Did you watch my match?" you asked, now facing the camera on your phone, which sat at the coffee table in the room.

"Yep" Leah replied, flipping her phone’s camera to show the TV tuned to the sports channel.  “Feeling nervous about the quarterfinals?” she asked, sounding both curious and supportive.

"Nah... I don't know who I'll be facing yet though," you said, slipping off your socks. "At least I’ve got two days to rest before the game."

"Yeah, like you’ll actually rest," Leah teased.

"You're probably right," you chuckled knowing she had you figured out. During your first call yesterday, you had explained your intense training routine before matches. "What are you having?" you asked Leah, curiosity evident in your voice as you held your phone again.

"Smiley faces," Leah said, poking a potato and showing it to you through the camera.

"What?" you laughed, not quite sure what she was showing you.

"Potato smiles. Delicious," she said, grinning as she popped the potato into her mouth.

"Ew! Didn't your mum teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, though you found it amusing to watch Leah goof around. "Do they taste like real potatoes? I've never tried them."

"What are you talking about?" Leah gasped, dramatically dropping her fork onto her plate. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whoa, you sound genuinely offended," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

"Of course I am! How is it possible you've never tasted these? What did you eat all through your childhood?" she asked, her face completely serious.

"Leah... would you believe me if I told you I didn't try a nugget until I was 16?" you said, your tone turning more serious. "It was when a friend from school invited me over for dinner. My mum was always particular about what I ate." Leah's expression turned to a slight frown as she listened intently. "I always had well-balanced, hearty meals. She just wasn't a fan of processed food," you said, hoping to provide context and prevent any misconceptions about your mother.

"Sounds... kind of sad," Leah said, finishing her last potato. "I should invite you over for smiley faces, shouldn't I?" she asked with a shy smile.

"You could... I'd gladly accept," you replied.

"I'll think about it," Leah said, shaking her head with a playful grin. After a brief pause, her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, intrigued.

"Today, something caught my eye. Well, actually, it's been catching my eye for a while now, but I think I've finally spotted a pattern," Leah explained, narrowing her eyes. "Your chain around your neck... I've seen you tug on it from time to time."

By reflex, your hand went to your neck, and you felt a brief panic when you didn't feel the chain right away, realizing it was hidden beneath your shirt.

"Is it something significant to you?" Leah asked.

"Yes and no. It's kind of silly," you replied, settling into bed and arranging the phone between the pillows. "Sometimes when I'm feeling nervous or a bit anxious, I tug on it to remind myself it's there, but it's not a big deal to me. I started wearing it a few years ago for a silly reason."

You hesitated, thinking you might bore Leah with the details. But seeing her through the screen, now cozy on her couch with a blanket over her legs and a smile on her face, you realized that perhaps this time someone would actually be interested in listening to you.

"I've never been picky," you began to explain. "I never asked my parents for anything special. They always gave me everything I needed, especially when it came to things that could improve my game. But as for gifts, I always felt too embarrassed to ask for certain things." You bit your lip, trying to stay on track with your story. "The thing is, I always wanted a chain. I didn't care much about the material. Everyone at the academy had one, boys and girls. It's a common accessory, after all. I wanted to be like them."

You fell silent, suddenly feeling a bit silly for sharing such trivial details. Leah, however, misinterpreted your silence and blank stare, thinking she had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Did someone special give you the chain you wear?" Leah's gentle voice interrupted your thoughts.

"No," you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. "I bought it myself. That's why it has my initial on it," you explained, holding the chain up to the camera.

Leah felt conflicted. On one hand, the story ended with a bit of humor, but on the other, there was a hint of sadness. It was the kind of gift typically given by a loved one or partner, and in the end, you had to buy it for yourself… which was a bit sad.

"After I won my first WTA title, I had quite a bit of money, so I went to the first jewelry store I could find and bought it," you explained.

You noticed the puzzled expression on Leah's face; she had gone silent when you expected her to laugh at the end of the story. You smiled nervously, wondering if you were diving too deep into conversations with her.

"Maybe she thinks you're weird," the insecurity echoed in your head.

Just then, a notification popped up on your phone, rescuing you from overthinking.

"Ugh, I've got to go meet Lucas. He wants to work on my serve," you said, standing up quickly with your phone in hand.

"You have a great serve," Leah said without hesitation.

"You're only saying that because you're a fan," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that always fluttered when Leah complimented your game.

"Exactly, and I watch every move you make," she said, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How adorable," you thought to yourself.

"Tell your coach you don't need any improvement," Leah said.

"He's my coach. I pay him to help me get better," you said as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah, whatever," Leah responded with a playful smirk.

"Do you buy the whole love at first sight thing? Ouch!" you winced as your physio applied pressure, stretching your leg into a position that felt tight.

"Take a deep breath," advised your therapist, easing off the pressure. "There you go," she said, gently returning your leg to its natural position.

"It's not something I believe in, in case you're wondering," you said, laying face down on the table and removing your headphones. Conversations during your physio sessions were rare, you typically dozed off, hence the headphones to drown out the noise around you.

"I guess that's not your cup of tea," your physio chuckled softly, now focusing on massaging your calves. "Is she pretty? They say love often comes in through the eyes, especially if it's love at first sight, as you said."

"She's definitely pretty, yeah," you admitted, wincing as your therapist's thumbs applied pressure into your muscles. "Geez, who said these sessions were relaxing?" you muttered, closing your eyes to bear the discomfort. "She's pretty, but it's more than that... I feel like I can talk to her."

"Y/N, you talk with tons of people every day," your therapist reminded you. "Honestly, you never seem to stop talking," she added with a laugh.

"It's different with her. I can talk about anything, even tennis, but there's no pressure... It's like talking to her puts me at ease," you explained.

It was so calming that you had fallen asleep chatting with her the last two nights.

"I shouldn't be catching feelings for someone I'm just getting to know," you sighed.

"Well, actually, it's perfectly normal," your physio reassured you.

You sighed with relief as the tension in your muscles began to ease under her skilled hands. It wasn't a sigh of relief because someone validated your growing feelings for Leah. Definitely not.

"There are times when love hits you fast and hard, you know? When it's intense." the woman explained, now focusing on your back. "And you, my dear, are intense. It wouldn't be surprising if you fell in love just as fast."

"I haven't fallen in love," you protested, attempting to sit up from the table, but your therapist effortlessly kept you pinned down with a swift motion.

"And you're impulsive," she added with a tired sigh, familiar with your reactions. "I'm surprised you haven't declared yourself to her already."

"There is no one," you insisted.

"You've already admitted there's a pretty girl and that you have feelings for her, even if you're not quite sure what those feelings are yet," she teased with a mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone special," she suggested, helping you onto your back on the table. "She could be good for you… here" she said, gently touching your heart. "And here," she continued, touching your temple with her finger.

"What are we watching?" Lia asked, settling down next to Leah on the couch. They had planned a dinner date to catch up, but Lia suspected it was more about Leah avoiding another night of cooking.

"There's a match about to start," Leah replied, quickly grabbing the remote from her friend's hands.

Lia glanced at the screen, which now displayed the stats of two tennis players. "Has Wimbledon started already?"

"No," Leah sighed, rolling her eyes. "There are tournaments throughout the year, not just the Grand Slams," she explained, her focus on the screen.

"Since when are you an expert on this?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's basic knowledge, not all sports revolve around football," Leah defended herself as the players stepped onto the court.

"Is this match a big deal?" 

"It's the quarterfinals," Leah replied.

"How do they win?" Lia inquired further.

"They win by taking two sets." Leah explained, her irritation starting to show.

"And how do they win those sets?" Lia pressed on.

"God, Lia, just watch and you'll figure it out," Leah snapped, feeling her nerves creeping in. She was clearly on edge.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Lia eyed her suspiciously.

"What's wrong with her? What's she doing?" murmured Leah, leaning back on the couch, her eyes glued to the match on the tv screen.

"Huh?" Lia turned to her.

"She's struggling to reach her shots," Leah pointed out, just as you lost another point. "She had the match in her bag."

It was true. You had started strong, winning the first set 6-1 and even taking a 4-1 lead in the second set. But now, your opponent had fought back, and you found yourself in a 1-6 tiebreaker, unable to secure more than a single point.

"Set point," was announced on the tv, and Leah waved her hand.

You positioned yourself, shifting from side to side, anticipating your opponent's serve. But before you could react, she sent a powerful shot down the line, leaving you with no chance to return it.

"Bloody hell," Leah exclaimed, standing up from the couch.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so into tennis," Lia remarked, intrigued by Leah's intense reaction.

"It just frustrates me when they give away easy points during a match," Leah explained, which was partly true. Your unforced errors had contributed to your opponent's comeback in the set.

Leah let out a long sigh and sank back onto the couch. She couldn't relax until you managed to turn the match around and win the third set tiebreaker 7-4, securing your spot in the semifinals. You had come dangerously close to losing your spot in the semifinals.

Leah couldn't bring herself to try talking to you all day. It had been a dreadful match, one of the worst she had ever seen you play. Despite not knowing you that well, Leah figured you probably needed some space and didn't want to talk to anyone for a while. She had watched you storm off the court after the match, something she had never seen you do before. The heated exchanges with the chair umpire and the tense moments with your coach had been impossible to ignore. 

She had only mustered the courage to send a brief message: 

"Hope you're doing okay." 

But you hadn't responded yet.

So, when she was already tucked up in bed, half asleep, she was surprised to see an incoming video call from you.

"Y/N?" Leah replied, not looking at the screen as she fumbled to switch on her nightstand lamp.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up." you apologized.

"I wasn't quite asleep yet," Leah said, finally turning her attention to the screen. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting up in bed, noticing your slightly red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah," you lied, settling back on the couch and pulling your blanket up to your neck. "What about you? How was your day?"

"I just watched your match, which was horrible," Leah thought, feeling sorry for you, but instead she replied, "Not much. I just had dinner with some friends."

Leah couldn't help but smile as she saw your features relax at her answer. She knew you had probably anticipated her bringing up the match. You had mentioned how intense your day usually was: tennis talk at breakfast, tennis talk in the afternoon, tennis talk at dinner.

"Nothing too delicious," Leah continued. "Did you have dinner?"

You didn't respond verbally, instead, you shook your head and bit your lip, a sign of your struggle to hold back tears. Leah immediately noticed.

"I was running late and didn't feel like eating alone," you explained. "But my physio brought me a sandwich about half an hour ago. I'm just not hungry."

Leah frowned. She mentally calculated the hours since the match had ended at noon. Considering the disastrous game, you probably hadn't eaten afterward, and your stomach was likely empty except for breakfast.

"You should eat," Leah insisted gently.

"I don't want to eat alone, it's... depressing," you admitted, sinking further into the couch. Leah could barely see your mouth now, the blanket covering you.

"Okay, hold on," Leah said, letting out a sigh as she got out of bed. She placed the phone on her bed and reached for a hoodie. "Come on," she said, picking up her phone again.

You watched through the screen as Leah left her room and headed to her kitchen, leaving the phone on the counter.

"Okay, what kind of sandwich did you get?"

"Huh?"

"I'll eat with you," Leah explained simply, reaching for the bag of bread. "Well?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was such a tender gesture, one that softened your heart. Leaning over to the coffee table, you picked up the bag your physio had left there. You hadn't even opened it yet.

"Let me see..." you said, pulling out the sandwich and reading the ingredients on the box. "Tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and salad cream."

"Ugh, not my favorite," Leah said, her face visible at the edge of the screen as she looked through her fridge.

"What's your favorite?" you asked, starting to unwrap your sandwich. Suddenly feeling your appetite return.

"I'm a ham and cheese girl. I like to keep it simple," Leah explained, already assembling her own sandwich.

"Sounds boring," you teased with a chuckle. Leah stuck her tongue out at you. "I prefer egg sandwiches. Probably the store didn't have any."

"What else did your physio get you?"

"Uh... a bottle of water and a bottle of juice."

"Orange?" Leah guessed, reaching for a box of orange juice.

"Yes," you confirmed, smiling as you watched Leah return to the couch, settled in just like you with a blanket on her lap. She held up her sandwich to the camera.

"Shall we eat?"

An hour later, you were in bed, with Leah still on the screen, tucked under her own sheets. The time had flown by as Leah passionately tried to convince you why Arsenal was the top club in London.

"Uh, according to Google, the men's team hasn't won a league since 2004," you teased in a mocking tone, enjoying Leah's furrowed brow and her stumbling attempts to defend her team. "And the women's team... maybe I shouldn't say anything," you added innocently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oi! You're being mean!" Leah protested. "I just won a cup, you know?"

Of course you knew, you had seen the post on Leah’s instagram. 

"Winning a cup isn't quite the same as winning a league," you continued to tease.

"What would you know about it? You only just learned the difference between a cup and a league because I explained it to you," Leah retorted, though she couldn't help but crack a smile. Despite her attempt to feign annoyance, she couldn't shake the sense of relief seeing you in a better mood than an hour ago "You're such a headache sometimes.”

"Sorry," you said between laughs. "Well, I'd better get some sleep. Got an early start tomorrow."

Leah's heart sank at the reminder of your upcoming semifinal match. She knew you had pushed yourself to the limit today, both physically and mentally.

"Thank you," you added, catching Leah off guard.

"Huh?" Leah's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For not bringing that up," you explained, your cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "I really appreciate it... I just needed to talk to someone. And you're easy to talk to."

Leah's heart skipped a beat. 

"It was nothing. You can talk to me anytime, about anything, including that," Leah assured, offering you a warm smile.

You fell silent for a moment, your eyes closed. Leah almost thought you had drifted off to sleep until she heard your voice again.

"I've never won a semifinal match on grass," you confessed. "I hate playing on grass. I can't move like I want to, can't slide, the ball bounces weird... It's a faster game, and I don't like it."

Leah struggled to find the right words to comfort you, though it seemed you weren't seeking comfort. You just needed to vocalize your thoughts.

"Well… get some good rest," you said "Speak to you tomorrow."

"Sleep well," Leah replied softly, just before you disappeared from her screen.

Leah hadn't been able to watch your game; she'd been tied up with a radio interview in the afternoon. Perhaps it was a good thing, sparing her from witnessing what felt like a complete disaster.

You were trailing 1-0 after losing the first set 6-2.

"Y/N, listen up," Lucas's voice echoed in your head as you wiped your face with your towel. He sounded both concerned and frustrated. "You've got to get up to the net. Focus and do it just like we practiced this morning.”

The tension intensified in the second set, now tied at 3-3. Each point intensified, increasing the pressure on your already fatigued body.

Struggling to steady your breath and calm your racing heart, you attempted to regain your composure. Lucas's instructions only seemed to agitate you further. Your serves lacked accuracy and power, the weight of exhaustion settled in your arms and legs.

With your breath hitching, you turned to Lucas "Gotta keep your mouth shut," you muttered to him, before returning to your position on the court.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut out your coach's voice which, instead of helping, was only adding to the overwhelming pressure and fear of failure creeping in. 

For a while, you felt completely disconnected from the game, just focusing on getting the ball back over the net and hoping for the best. Your ears felt muffled, you swung at balls in every direction, chasing after them when your legs allowed. It felt like your body was on autopilot.

When you finally regained control, you glanced at the scoreboard. It read 5-4, with the set tied at 30-30. Had you been playing for that long already?

"Just 2 more points and I'm out," you muttered to yourself, accepting the ball from the ball kid who hesitated a moment before returning to her position. Your emotional state must have caught her attention, you could feel tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall now. You couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them.

You adjusted your visor lower, not too concerned that it obstructed your view. After all, you were resigned to the inevitable defeat, recovering from this set, let alone the entire match, felt beyond your grasp.

Taking a deep breath, you served. Your opponent effortlessly returned the ball, and when you sent it back, she executed a perfect drop shot with spin. Despite your best efforts, your legs failed to get you to the net before the ball bounced a second time. 

All you could do was shake your head and chuckle at the brilliance of the shot. It was a damn good point.

The next rally was a bit longer. Determined to get at least a point, you decided to take a calculated risk. You placed the ball strategically close to the net, hoping to force your opponent into a difficult position. Yet, she managed to return the ball, forcing you to approach the net. Anticipating her move, you weren't surprised when the ball sailed over your head, landing just inside the line behind you.

And with that, it was over.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you shouted as Lucas and your physio entered the dressing room. You pointed your racket at him. "I don't want to hear a word from you!"

"Y/N, calm down," Lucas said, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I said no! Get out!" Tears streaked down your face, your voice raw with frustration. "You're the reason I lost!" you accused him, venom lacing your words as you vented on your racket, smashing it against the ground. "You told me to charge the net," you seethed, the anger palpable. "And what happens? She pulls off the damn shot of her life!"

Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely his fault.

Lucas struggled to make out your words through your sobs and the racket's crashing impact. He signaled to your physio to grab your bag of remaining rackets before you decided to destroy another one.

"You need to cool off," your physio interjected, her tone firm.

"I need everyone to leave me the hell alone!" you yelled, throwing the shattered pieces of your racket against the wall in a burst of frustration.

Lucas shook his head and firmly guided you to sit on the bench. "Listen to me," he said,but you shook your head, lost in your thoughts. Frustrated, Lucas removed your visor and tossed it aside to get a clear view of your face, then gently tilted your chin to meet his eyes. "I said listen to me, kiddo."

You met his gaze, holding your breath. He looked visibly upset, his brow furrowed deeper than usual. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed the new wrinkles and more gray hairs, likely a result of the stress you often caused him.

"You played well today," he continued, his voice steady but firm, still holding your gaze. "But she played better. It's not a reflection of your performance, it's not about you playing badly. Can we improve? Absolutely. And we will, I promise you that. But for now, we need to stop."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"You're drained," your physio chimed in. "Your body can't handle more. Your muscles are exhausted."

"And your mind isn't much better. Since the first game you've been clouded," Lucas added, sighing. "We're heading back to England first thing tomorrow."

"Eastbourne?" you asked. 

Lucas shook his head. "No, you won't be playing in any more tournaments until Wimbledon. I've made it clear, you need to stop," he said firmly, now taking a seat beside you. "We're heading to London. Your psychologist is already there."

You had resisted having a psychologist travel with your team for months, but now circumstances were different.

"You'll see the psychologist tomorrow and then you'll rest for a few days. Your rackets are off-limits," your physio said, your bag slung over her shoulder as she tried to lighten the mood. "Seriously, no tennis, not even for fun," she added quickly, when she saw you about to protest. "We'll focus on light gym sessions, nothing more. These are your days off, you'll do anything but tennis."

You nodded, feeling somewhat scolded, almost like a child.

As the tension eased, the reality of a few days off in London began to sink in.

"Leah," you muttered. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" Lucas turned to you when he heard your voice. You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud.

"What time is our flight?"