#he is slowly showing more of a personality with her and she is starting to see it and they are getting along more one step at a time

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[wendysimp]

Secrets Out! Ep.2 (Leaked?)

Karina X Male Reader (Slight appearance by Aespa)

Tags: TitFucking, Ball sucking, Deepthroat, Spitting, Teasing, Videotaping, Quickie

~~ Be Sure to read Episode 1 here!

(3rd Person POV)

~ In the girls locker room

“You’re lying. That guy is a total loser.”

“Yeah, and a dick that big? It just doesn’t sound real.”

“I-I think he’s really cute.”

“Of course you think that Ning. But I’m serious! He just fucked Seulgi unnie and Wendy unnie in the backseat of the car!”

“His own step sister?!” The three of the girls were in complete shock with what they just heard.

A moment earlier before their chat, Karina drags her friends into the locker room to tell them about what she had just discovered in the parking lot. You, Seulgi and your own step sister Wendy having a threesome in the backseat.

“Yes! His own step sister!” Karina pulls out her phone. “Here look at this!”

She taps the play button, letting the video play for the girls to watch. Their eyes widened as they watch Wendy riding your cock while Seulgi rides your face.

“H-He’s actually fucking her.” Giselle spoke.

“Seulgi unnie is riding his face.” Winter followed up.

“Y/n’s… big cock.” Ning bites her lip making the girls look at her.

“Ning!” They all say, but she didn’t care and grabs the phone, skipping ahead of the video till it showed Wendy and Seulgi giving you a sloppy blowjob while recording themselves.

“Look! S-Such a big… fat… cock.” They all look back at the video, this time they put their focus on your dick.

The length, the thickness. They start to feel hungry. Hungry for your cock as they keep on watching. Karina starts to feel her panties getting soaked once again.

“F-Fuck! Again?” She bites her lip and looks down. The girls look at her and laugh.

“You’re getting wet huh?” Giselle teased.

“N-no! Shut up!” She defended herself but couldn’t hold back the blush.

“It’s okay if you are,” Winter chuckles softly. “I am too, I can’t lie.”

“Eww!” Giselle scoffed. “Let’s head back to class.” She grabs her bag as Winter and NingNing follow.

“I’ll be with you guys in a bit… I need to find Y/n and have a taste of him myself.” Karina whispered the last part to herself. They nodded and head to class.

Meanwhile, Karina was searching through the halls and all over the school, trying not to get caught to look for you but had no luck.

“Where could he be?” She thinks but then had an idea of where you could be. “Got it! The library! That nerd usually goes there at this time to do work.”

She quickly makes her way to the library, searching every section then finally spots you in the corner. She smirks wildly, knowing this was gonna be a perfect time. She walks up to you, taps your shoulder which makes you slowly turn your head.

“Hey nerd.” She says trying not to draw attention with the people around by staying as quiet as possible.

You sighed. “What do you want Karina? I’m busy doing my work.”

She sits next to you. “Well that can wait. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Get it over with already. I don’t like to be disturbed.” You put your attention back to your school work.

“Geez, calm down nerd. Look, I’m not gonna waste time here so let me just ask you something.” She looks at you. Thoughts of the video running through her mind.

“I’m not gonna do your homework for you.”

“It’s not about that idiot! It’s about something else.” She hits your arm.

“First off, ouch! And second, what could you possibly need from me?” You were curious. She would usually approach you about doing her homework or try to annoy you.

“It’s just a simple request.” She smirked which kinda creeped you out a little.

“Okay? What’s up?” You asked while she leans closer, your heart starts pounding. Is she about to kiss you?

“Can I maybe see… your cock?” She whispered. You froze up after her sudden request, the pen in your hand drops straight down to the floor.

“M-My what now?” You gulped. Did you hear correctly?

“Come on Y/n, you heard me.” She whispered more in a seductive tone while placing a hand on your thigh. She’s crazy you thought to yourself.

“N-No, are you crazy! I’m not showing you my stuff, that shit is weird!” You say trying not to be so loud.

“Oh that’s weird?” She smirks and takes her phone out. “Is it more weird that you fuck your own step sister.” She shows the video of you and your stomach drops.

“H-How did you get… delete that!” You try to take her phone but you were too slow. She giggled and teased you some more.

“Nope! You either show me your cock… or I will leak this video out and people will see how weird YOU really are.” She threatened.

This is fucked! You couldn’t figure out what to do. You can’t have that video getting leaked!

“Okay fine.” Those words make Karina’s smirk grow even bigger. This girl is crazy! I mean… she’s kinda hot but that’s not the point.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” She teased you more.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with.” You get up, looking around, making sure no one’s around. “We gotta be quiet and be careful.” You whispered.

You undo your belt while Karina watches, biting her lip as she couldn’t wait for the grand reveal. You bring your hands down to the waistband of your pants, then slowly pull them down until…

*Slap*

Your dick sprung out, landing right on her face. She gasped at the size of your cock as it rests across her face.

“Oh… m-my… fucking… god.” You can feel her breath just between your balls and under your shaft sending shivers down your spine.

The scene was kinda hot. Actually, really hot! She grabs onto your dick, slowly stroking it while she was still amazed by the length and the feel.

“I-I thought you just wanted to see only.” You groan as you grip the table.

“You like this don’t you?” She completely ignored your words.

“Y-Yes.” You didn’t want to give in. But man it was so damn hard.

“I can see why even your step sister would fuck you. She’s very lucky I should say.” She giggled as she keeps stroking you before planting a kiss on your tip which was enough to make your knees weak.

“F-Fuck Karina!” You moan quietly, leaning your head back.”

Without any warning, she puts your cock into her mouth. Her soft moans vibrate around your shaft while your body tenses up. She takes you inch by inch trying to get use to your size.

“Mmm… so… big.” She slurped then pulls away. She spits onto your cock and strokes you making sure you’re completely soaked. “You like that nerd?”

At this point you couldn’t take it. You tangled your fingers in her hair and push her back down on your cock, making her bob up and down your wet cock.

“Just shut up and keep sucking bitch.” You groan as you make her deepthroat your dick, causing her to gag a little.

Instead of resisting, she let you do it. It was almost like she was allowing you to do that. Her saliva mixed with your pre cum drip down towards your balls. You pull her off your dick as you griped onto her hair.

“You fucking nerd,” She tries to catch her breath as she looks up at you. “Making me choke on your big, fat cock.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You smirked as you smack your dick against her cheeks.

“I didn’t like it… I fucking loved it!” She sticks her tongue out and grabs your hard shaft to slap your tip onto it.

You groan out in pleasure as you watch her go down and suck on your balls while your cock is resting across her face.

“F-Fuck yes suck those balls.” Your eyes trail down and you bite your lip.

She pulls away. “Looking at my tits huh?” She looks down then back up at you. “You fucking perv. You think about my tits don’t you?”

“I would be lying if I said no.” Karina rolled her eyes.

“Mind telling me what you think about perv?” Her hands continue to stroke you.

“What your tits feel like in between my dick.” You grip her hair as she places more kisses all over your dick.

Karina was satisfied with your answer, and it only made her feel hotter. She takes her hands off your cock and moves back a little, taking off her hoodie.

“It’s only fair I show you my tits.” She pulls her pink crop top off, dropping it on the floor.

You look as your jaw drops. Her cleavage on display as her bra holds her big breasts together. Every little movement she makes, they bounce and jiggle around. You felt like you were being hypnotised.

Karina laughs as you stare for what felt like hours. “Look at you. You wanna see these tits huh?” She teased playing with the straps of her bra.

“Fuck yes.” You say almost instantly.

She takes off her bra, taking her time so she can tease and make you want more. Her big, soft tits are finally out, waiting to feel your touch.

(Y/n’s POV)

I lick my lips, reaching my hands over as I get a good grip on Karina’s tits. So fucking soft, so fucking big. She moans softly as she feels my touch.

“You like them?” She smirked, looking up at me.

“They’re amazing.” She smiles more at my answer while I keep playing with her melons. You then pull her onto your lap as you wanted to get a closer look.

“Ohh look at you,” She giggled. “Addicted already?” She teased.

“Maybe.” You dive in, rubbing your face in between her tits as she squirmed a little while holding you close.

I keep playing with her tits until she pushed me back against the chair, getting off my lap and onto her knees. She grabs onto my shaft and slaps the head against her tits.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She looks into your eyes, turning you on with the way she addressed me.

It’s funny how Karina went from being a bitch towards me, to wanting more of my cock and calling me daddy. It just doesn’t seem real but I’m not complaining.

“I love it baby.” I grinned.

I can tell when I called her that it turned her on as she puts me between her tits and lets her spit drip down and onto my tip. She tightens the grip on my dick with her huge jugs, moving up and down slowly.

I moan softly. “Oh fuck, Karina! Your tits feel so fucking good!”

“I’m glad you like them daddy.” She winked.

I watch as my cock pops in and out between her tits before Karina sticks her tongue out, licking my tip every time she was close enough to lick it.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum Karina!” I groan out.

“Cum for me daddy! Cum all over my tits.” She bites her lip as she was in desperate need of my cream.

She moves faster, she grips tighter while I grip the chair as I feel the sensation from her tits.

“I’m c-close baby.” I lean my head back.

I felt her reach for something and I look down as I see her phone in her hand.

“Would you mind recording? I wanna send this to my girls.” She asked with an innocent yet naughty smile.

“D-Don’t they hate me?” I grunt.

“After I send them the video, they won’t.” She hands me the phone. “Come on, please?”

Was it a good idea? What about the video she has of me, Wendy and Seulgi? I’m sure she can keep it a secret right? Ah fuck it!

“Fine.” I take the phone and start to record her cupping her tits together.

“Thank you daddy.” She smirks and moans sexily then shortly looks into the camera after waving a little. “Hey girls! His dick is so much bigger in person than on video.” She spits down on my cock again.

Did she… show them the video? Oh god. Let’s just hope nothing spreads around. I gotta be careful.

“Ahh fuck! Keep moving those big tits.” I groan.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She breathed, moving more seductively.

“I love it baby. Keep going, you’re doing amazing.” I stroke her cheek. I guess Karina loves the way I praise her by the way she looked at me with a grin.

“I want your cream daddy!” She moves faster and faster. I was getting close, I tried to keep the phone as steady as I could but it was a little difficult.

“Y-You want it? Fucking take it!” You groan trying to stay as quiet as possible. The sound of her melons slapping against me.

I shoot my first load, making a mess all over her tits.

“O-Oh fuck! So much daddy! I-I… oh my!” Another load right across her cheek and around her mouth. “Fuck! This is the best load ever!” She smiles, gathering some of my cum from her tits before seductively sucking her fingers.

“You like the taste of daddy’s cum baby?” I smirked as I try to catch my breath. This view of Karina was fucking amazing to see.

“You taste so good daddy. I might want more.” She winks at you then looks at the camera. “Sorry girls, maybe I’ll invite you next time.” She wanted to tease them. She blows a kiss then grabs her phone.

“Soo, there’s a next time?” I bite your lip.

“Maybe.” She looks at me and grins again. She cleans herself up with some wipes she had in her bag before cleaning my cock with her mouth. “God you taste so good Y/n.” She kisses your tip.

I moan softly and smile and the both of us fix ourselves up, putting back our clothes that we had taken off.

“You’re not gonna leak the video right?” I asked.

“Mmm…” my heart was pounding. I can’t have this video get leaked. If my parents see it, they will flip out. Especially my mom! “I won’t.”

You let out a sigh. “Thank you.” I tell her and she smiles while sending the video to her friends. “You single?” You push your luck.

“No Y/n!” She glares at me. “You might have a chance though.” She moves close to me.

“Oh I’m gonna make you mine, just wait and see.” I pull her close. Both of our faces inches away.

“I like your confidence Y/n.” She looks into my eyes.

“Will you let me kiss you?” I whispered then see her face as she blushed.

“I don’t know try it.” She challenged. I lean in and kiss her deeply and passionately as I held her hips. She returned the passion back and moves her hand behind my head.

We pull away, out of breath as we were smiling like idiots. She’s really a whole fucking package.

“I guess I’ll see you around nerd.” She giggled and bites her lip softly.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Still calling me that huh? What happened to daddy?” I teased and she blushed, hitting my arm. “I’m kidding, I’ll see you around Karina.”

We both exchanged numbers and we both go our separate ways. Man I really am a lucky guy. Little did I know, a little misclick would cause some little problems in the future.

(3rd Person POV)

*Ding*

A girl takes out her phone during class, turning it on without alerting the teacher. She opens the link as it takes her to a video that shouldn’t be seen. She gasps quietly.

“W-What the fuck?! Is that Y/n?!”

End Of Ep.2

To be continued!

A little short but I’ll try to make them a bit longer. Hope you guys enjoyed this one. You guys can also help with this series by suggesting ideas and idols you want to see, so be free to send me a dm or inbox me!☺️

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?

Yan! Batfam x Princess!Reader

Special

"Mother said be good, father said be nice. That was always their advice. So be nice, [name], good, [name]. Nice, good, good nice (tighter!). What's the good of being good if everyone is blind. Always leaving you behind." Prologue: Into the Woods.

(I needed the full thing in it)

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

Life is not fair, and while the rich eat like pigs the poor people eat scraps and still are charged no matter if they can afford it or not.

As a princess, I understood that.

I am labeled as the defective princess, the Imperial Princess of Gotham, [name] Wayne.

While all my siblings were intelligent and had strength, talent, and power that upstaged most people, I had none of that, I wasn't smart, actually, I was a complete dunce. I had no strength to my name and was disgracefully unable to use my magic, but I knew I had some...

I had to. Right?

My talent, probably being an embarrassment to my family name.

My mother, she also glanced at me with disgust, she made sure if I wasn't able to do anything useful I'll at least have etiquette while being useless.

I admired my mother, she was beautiful, graceful, sharp, and always upheld her image.

She sneers at me when I mess up, which is all the time, but we don't talk about that.

Oh gosh, and my siblings they were all so amazing.

Barbara held the same personality as our mother, she rose the social class fast. Too bad she doesn't talk to me, I think she would be a great person to take an example from!

Stephanie and Cassandra tagged behind Barbara. They were like those cool trios in the books.

Yes, I read books, but they don't count since they are all novels.

Damian berates me on the fact that I'm nothing like them, but it just shows he cares, doesn't it?

Dick will he coaches Damian he's the #1 Knight of our kingdom and woman all over swoon over him, he talks to me... sometimes.

Duke, well he's a gentleman we don't talk but he's nice enough to greet me.

Jason, well like those novels he'd be titled the 'bad boy' and it does in fact charm lots and lots of ladies.

Tim, it impresses me every time at how smart he is. Maybe that's why we don't have many conversations because I'm not on his level.

And my father, well, it's okay. He's the emperor of course he's busy, I can't ask for attention that would be so childish!

It's of course upsetting when they all hang out without me, but they're just letting me have more time to myself to read! If you think about it they just care about me.

I remember we went to an event, and I was alone and no one talked to me, but it's fine, that's when I met the love of my life, he was like a prince charming, I bumped into him and he caught me before I hit the floor, I swear I fell right then.

Connor Kent.

Then I found out he was in fact a prince! And I got lucky and arranged a marriage with him, he didn't seem as static, but it's okay, arranged marriages usually don't last anyway...

I don't know what took over me, but when they found this orphaned girl one day, out of nowhere, they adopted her, and that's when my life changed.

Serena.

It wasn't fair how she was the apple of everyone's eyes.

She was also clumsy and dumb, she didn't know how to use magic, just like me, but there was a fine line between us. For one I know etiquette and for two, I'm of royal blood.

But instead of also disliking her they doted on her. I let it go until Connor also started being attracted to her. I was enraged.

But kept to myself. I started writing things I felt like doing those things to her. Then slowly I started doing said things. But they were harmless! Mostly...

I always ended up getting caught every single time though.

I still did them though, I don't know I just felt like it, and then I started having dreams of this weird world, about a girl.

Her name, was just like mine, [name] [last name], and she's so cool!

It started off showing what kind of woman she was, a CEO, doctor, lawyer, but mainly an entrepreneur, I didn't know a woman could be in those fields. Also, what are some of those things?

Then those dreams.

"What a bast-, I can't with this main character! Oh and don't even get me started on the family, who wrote this?! And a poly relationship for what? Just for her to focus on one guy? That's it I'm balding. The only character I like is [name] but sometimes I wish she would just stand up for herself!"

Yes, for I found out she was just like me she also liked reading novels.

Her reactions to them were also quite funny, then one day I don't know why but I prayed to the Gods that I wanted to be just like her.

"Go hang yourself! Shitty ahh characters. Go suck a titty."

Okay, not exactly like her.

Then it was the next morning and the maids took a while to finally get me ready, I couldn't stand their murmuring about how terrible I was compared to Serena.

I wanted to rip my hair out when I heard her name.

Then I made an idiotic choice again, I shoved her while on the staircase.

Then my world went black before I woke up startled with NEW MEMORIES.

I had become [name] [last name].

But for some reason, I was smart, I knew how to manage her jobs…

5 years later

It's been, what, 5 years?

[name] was right to be cocky she had every right to be, I feel bad now that I stole her life.

[name] wherever you are I wish you the best.

I wanted to write this to show that both girls will get happy endings, and I rushed this because idk.

Anyway, thanks cuties for the interaction with my last post!

And again with the last post please give me constructive criticism!

Taglist -

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies

[cybershock24601]

Imagining a Ingellvar who still on reflex does things like have their breakable things sufficiently anchored in case gravity changes and keeping important documents under things in case of blood rain and just having a whole bunch of quirks that they don't really think of as quirks just because they're things she grew up doing because she grew up in a place where reality's rules change and twists. The team tries to ask her why she does what she does. Her and Emmerich's explanations raise more questions than they answer.

Ingellvar having a bunch of weird little habits from growing up in the Necropolis that everyone just passes off as personal quirks until Emmrich shows up and does the same things and suddenly what everyone wrote off as weird quirks become a bit of a mystery. The team does ask about it but everyone's convinced that Ingellvar and Emmrich are fucking with them because what do you mean you always carry an umbrella around in case of blood rain??

At least everyone is convinced they're being messed with until they're accompanying Rook and Emmrich to the Necropolis and start to experience how fucking weird it is.

Harding is tagging along behind Rook and Emmrich and suddenly Emmrich vanishes out of thin air and Harding starts freaking out while Rook's all like "chill, it's just a Chronological Incontinence Incident. Emmrich will be fine" and Harding's like "What does that even mean???" and Rook starts to explain going full Watcher mode and by the time she's almost done Emmrich is back and it's all good though he does disagree with Rook's preferred theory behind the phenomena and they end up having a rather spirited debate on the subject while Harding is slowly losing her mind and also takes note that Rook really does talk different in the Necropolis.

Neve's helping Rook and Emmrich clear out some more Venatori that have snuck into the Necropolis and suddenly the gravity turns off and everyone starts floating. Rook and Emmrich barely pause in their spell slinging while everyone else is freaking out. Neve too is freaking out but does an admirable job of composing herself after she falls on her ass when she hits the ground while Rook and Emmrich nimbly land on their feet.

Davrin's trying to keep Assan from turning the bones lying around into chew toys when suddenly the room is submerged in total darkness and he suddenly gets an armful of freaked out baby griffin as Assan tries to climb his way up Davrin in a panic at being suddenly blinded. Or alternately Assan ends up going right to sleep like a bird, I'm not sure whether the bird side or the cat side would win out here. Either way while Davrin's wondering what the fuck is going on, Rook and Emmrich are being super chill about the whole experience because sudden unexplained darkness is not that uncommon in the Necropolis.

Lucanis is the lucky one who gets blood rained on. It starts out like little droplets of water which is strange enough because they're inside but the smell of iron is unmistakable and the red color is pretty unmistakably blood like and Lucanis barely gets out a very emphatic "what the fuck" before it suddenly starts pouring blood rain. Luckily Rook and Emmrich always carry an umbrella around so Lucanis gets to share with Rook. Bonus points for this being pretty early in their romance and Rook is swooning over how romantic it is to have a nice walk through the blood rain sharing an umbrella while Lucanis is Going Through It and experiencing the horrors of Necropolis. The fact that Rook and Emmrich are so unfazed about the fact that it is literally raining blood almost makes the situation worse.

Bellara is the one that handles the weirdness of the Necropolis the best because Arlathan Forest gets pretty freaky too. Remember the story about the guy stuck in the clouds? So while the Necropolis' shenanigans are generally creepier, she takes the weird shit in stride and is actually very interested on the why and how of why all the statues in the room suddenly started crying blood.

Taash is the only one to escape the madness because they nope the fuck out of ever going to the Necropolis once everyone starts mentioning the weird stuff that goes on there. Necromancy is already bad enough but they are not going to haunted super cemetery.

Because I am a fan of semi-sentient locations, the reason the Necropolis keeps acting up like this is because it's excited it's Crypt Baby is back and that excitement is manifesting in weird unexplained phenomena.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ GDRAGON AS A FATHER

୨ৎ pairing: father!jiyong x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: quite soft, quite fluffy, and emotional!

୨ৎ from myeong: hi!! so happy to receive this adore request and I’ve been so excited to get to it! I hope you can enjoy this and seeing a dad jiyong would be the cutest ever!! ): such a sweetheart x

jiyong will be the most softest, caring, sweetest, loving, supportive, and genuine father ever!!!!!!!!!!

does not care about whether the first baby will be a boy or a girl all he cares about is having a healthy child that he can help him become a better person.

enjoys letting the baby hold his finger and takes at least a dozen photos even when you tell him it’s a bit pointless to have so many of the same photos.

“it’s not! what if something happens to the first few I took then I need to have more for backup!”

jiyong will be extremely overprotective and if a family member wants to hold the baby he has to be near to watch and make sure everything is okay.

“see that precious smile? that’s because of me.”

you’ll give him this look and he then of course adds you in and thanks you for helping in the creation of the baby and why he/she is just so beautiful. aww

“do you think he’ll/she’ll look more like me or look more like you as they get older? I’m so curious.”

jiyong will kiss you and tell you to go back to sleep while he takes care of the baby during the night. he knows you need all the rest you can get for being up most of the day with the baby. he’s very caring.

spoils the child rotten but also makes sure that he or she has the best manners even at such a young age, teaching basic skills and always showing the baby how much he loves you for everything you do.

as the child gets older it only makes jiyong slightly panic because he wanted so badly for the baby to stay little forever but of course it doesn’t work that way so he spends extra time filming for memories.

“one sec! let me take this last picture.. alright I got it. gosh.. she/he looks so perfect thanks to us.”

when it’s just the three of you jiyong sometimes gets emotional and talks about how much he’s always wanted a family like this and he still can’t believe he finally has one after so many years.

takes family time very seriously. he’ll cut everyone off who’s not interested in including you and the baby. he doesn’t have time for any of that stuff.

jiyong will want matching pjs, shoes, jewelry, hats, glasses, etc etc with the baby and you. he looks at it like family goals and thinks it’ll complete the fam.

“guess what? I learned how to make this dish! do you think he/she will like it? it has all of his/hers favorite things in it! the broccoli is what sold me.”

jiyong is obsessed with taking you and the baby to the park every chance that he gets. he’ll ask if you want to go if the weather is nice and gets the big bag ready full of snacks, drinks, and toys for the baby in case he/she gets a little bored there.

he likes to plan little trips as a family. the zoo and aquarium being at the top of the list because in his mind it’s so important to experience these types of things with the baby as a very close family. cute ):

allows you to have time to yourself since being a mom is a very tough job so he’ll take the baby and shop around for the day or hang out at the studio while he/she plays and snacks on yummy snacks.

“are you having fun with dada? I know you are.”

if you’re away at work or he’s allowing you time away for yourself like said before then he’ll send you so many selcas that he takes of him and the baby asking if you’d like this as your wallpaper.

“thank you for giving me my perfect little one.”

jiyong loves falling asleep with the baby even when he/she starts to get older he’ll take bedtime very seriously and read he/she a book while slowly falling asleep. next thing you know he’s asleep with he/she in bed and it’s the cutest thing ever!!!

long story short he’s a perfect father to your baby.

[hjvi]

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Chris breaks your heart, you revisit your most cherished memories with him in therapy, trying to understand what made you love him—and why it all fell apart.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8.4k

The sterile smell of the therapist’s office clung to the air, an odd mix of cleanliness and something far too clinical. It was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock hanging on the pale blue wall. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, gripping a tissue in one hand and twisting it nervously with my fingers. My therapist, Dr. Callahan, sat across from me in her chair, her expression warm but slightly firm, like she was waiting for me to unravel a ball of string I’d been clutching for weeks.

I stared at the floor, avoiding her eyes. We’d been doing this for weeks now—me, showing up, talking about anything but him. The sessions felt like a game of tug-of-war with my own mind, each side pulling harder but neither winning. The mere thought of saying his name out loud made my chest tighten, my breath quicken, and tears spring to my eyes.

Dr. Callahan sighed gently. "I notice we always seem to steer away from talking about Chris. And I’m not saying we need to dive into that, but I do want to talk about how you're managing your anxiety. It seems like it’s flaring up more than usual.”

That was an understatement. My anxiety had been suffocating, like being stuck in a maze I couldn’t navigate. And the pills—the little pills that kept my head above water—were sitting on Chris’s nightstand.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“They’re... they’re at Chris’s house,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat burned as tears threatened to spill over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold them back. “I can’t go there. I can’t face him.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward. “Okay. Let’s unpack this together. How are you feeling after the breakup?”

And there it was—the question I’d been running from. My breath hitched, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Horrible,” I croaked. “I—I can’t even think about him without crying. I can’t do anything without—”

The tears came faster now, and I wiped at them with the crumpled tissue in my hand. “I haven’t been eating. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything just feels... pointless. Without him, nothing makes me happy. Nothing feels right. It’s like... my life is worthless without him.”

Dr. Callahan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Why do you feel like your life is worth nothing without Chris? What is it about him, about your relationship, that makes you feel this way?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “It’s... everything,” I said finally. “The way he made me feel. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. He made me laugh. He made me feel safe. Every good memory I have—it’s all with him.”

Dr. Callahan nodded again, her eyes steady on mine. “Okay. Let’s start there. Let’s talk about those memories. Let’s figure out what made them special, what brought you joy, so we can help you find that again in your life—even without Chris.”

I nodded slowly, my chest aching. “The first time I met him... that’s where it all started.”

The First Time I Met Him

The quiet hum of Nick’s desk lamp filled the space as I sat cross-legged on his carpet, flipping through my notes for our school project. His room was simple, with posters of bands tacked up on the walls and a faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. Nick sat across from me, scrolling through his laptop.

“You think this is enough to get us through the presentation?” I asked, holding up a neatly written outline.

Nick shrugged. “Probably. You’re, like, way more organized than me.”

I laughed softly and was about to reply when the sharp sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by two unmistakably loud voices. My head snapped up.

“Bro, are you serious? That ref was blind!” one of the voices exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words.

“Blind? You literally tripped the guy, Chris,” the other retorted, their footsteps stomping closer with each passing second.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nick. He rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. My brothers are... loud.”

Before I could ask, the bedroom door flew open, and in came two boys dressed in hockey gear, their faces slightly flushed from the cold. One of them, with dark brown hair and an easy smirk, was clearly mid-argument. The other, though, caught my attention instantly.

He was tall and lean, with tousled, medium-length brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times after practice. His striking blue eyes, full of energy and mischief, darted around the room before locking on mine. Time seemed to pause.

“Oh,” he said, the word barely audible as his jaw slackened slightly. His entire demeanor shifted in a split second—gone was the loud, restless energy from before. Instead, he straightened his posture, his hand awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

Nick groaned. “Chris, get out. We’re working.”

Chris didn’t move. His gaze was still on me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, I broke the silence, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Chris blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh—hi! I mean, hey. What’s up?” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced before clearing his throat. “I’m Chris.”

Nick sighed, clearly annoyed. “She’s here for the project, Chris. Go bother Matt or something.”

But Chris ignored him, a grin creeping onto his face. “What’s your name?”

I told him, feeling my cheeks heat under his intense gaze. His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to seem casual. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said, his Boston accent thick and unfiltered.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick cut in, standing up to shove his brother toward the door. “Out.”

Chris didn’t leave without a fight. He grabbed Nick’s arm, dragging him just outside the room. I could still hear their voices, though they were slightly muffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a girl like her here?” Chris whisper-yelled, his tone laced with urgency.

Nick groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! She’s—” Chris’s voice dropped slightly, as if trying to be quieter, but I could still make out his words. “She’s gorgeous.”

My face burned, and I stared down at my notebook, pretending not to hear.

Nick re-entered the room, looking both amused and exasperated. “Sorry about him. He thinks you’re, like, a goddess or something.”

I glanced up, meeting Nick’s teasing gaze. “What?” I asked, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

Nick laughed. “Chris has a massive crush on you already. Don’t let it go to his head.”

The sound of Chris and Matt bickering down the hall faded into the background as I tried to process everything. I didn’t know what to make of it—this boy I’d just met, with his loud laugh and dazzling blue eyes, who somehow managed to make my heart race without even trying.

First Time You Held Hands The Awkward Spark

It started out as nothing. A quick, careless movement, nothing intentional. But the second Chris’s hand brushed against mine, I felt it. A spark, sudden and completely unexpected, shot through me like static. I froze, my hand hovering in midair, unsure if I should pull away or leave it there. I hadn’t meant to linger, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His fingers were still close enough to mine that the space between us seemed almost too big to ignore.

Chris, as always, was oblivious to the effect he was having on me. He kept talking, gesturing wildly about something—probably sports or something equally loud and energetic—but I couldn’t focus on the words. My thoughts were tangled in the way his hand had touched mine so casually. So naturally.

I could feel the warmth of his skin where it had brushed against mine, and for a second, I wondered if he felt the same thing I did.

“Yo,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the moment. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned, flashing that carefree smile of his, but there was something different in his eyes. Something softer. A shift that made my heart beat a little faster.

“You’re spaced out, huh?” he teased, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing.”

His grin widened, and that was when I realized he was still really close—closer than I’d thought. He moved again, shifting his weight on the couch beside me, and this time, his fingers brushed against mine again. But this time, they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough that it didn’t feel like an accident.

I froze again, my heart thumping in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hand, just a breath away from mine. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous too, but there was an undeniable energy between us now.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Chris turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a nervousness to it that I hadn’t expected. “You good?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was actually asking and not just making conversation.

I nodded, though I was sure he could tell something was off. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words what I was feeling.

He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping a little. “I’m not gonna bite,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can relax, you know?”

His hand shifted closer to mine again, and this time, before I could think about it, I gently placed my hand in his. The moment my fingers curled around his, something clicked—like everything I’d been unsure about, all the nervous energy that had been circling around us, suddenly made sense. His hand fit mine so easily, like it was meant to be there. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something warmer, softer.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There was no need. The contact, the feeling of his hand in mine, was enough to fill the space between us. He didn’t squeeze my hand too tight, but his grip was firm enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t going anywhere. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—the confusion, the tension, the anxiety that had followed me around for weeks. It was just me and him. Just this.

I glanced up at him, and when our eyes met, I saw it—something that wasn’t there before. It was a little spark, a little light, and I could tell it wasn’t just me feeling it. He didn’t look away, just held my gaze, his thumb lightly tracing circles over my palm, sending a new kind of warmth through me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low, but his smile still there, softening the words.

I nodded, and I don’t think I could’ve smiled any wider. “Yeah. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, I really was.

I sat in Dr. Callahan’s office, tracing the edge of the couch with my finger, still unable to meet her eyes. The quiet hum of the room made my thoughts feel louder, but I kept going.

“I remember the first time he kissed me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t like how I’d imagined it—like a movie or something dramatic. It was just... us.”

She leaned in slightly, her calm, steady voice guiding me. “Tell me about it. What was it like for you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the memory come rushing back, the way it always did when I thought of him.

First Time He Kissed You The Moment the World Stopped

The air was thick with anticipation, like a storm on the verge of breaking, as you both sat there in the quiet of his room. The soft glow of the lamp cast a gentle warmth over everything, making the atmosphere feel cozy, intimate. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but everything inside felt suspended, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Chris was close, so close that you could feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you in without a word. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time, you noticed how his eyes had shifted. The usual playful glint was still there, but underneath it was something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. It made your heart beat faster, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

You both sat in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, making your skin flush.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you sure about this?” His words were soft, uncertain, as if he was asking for permission.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart pounding. There were no words, nothing more to be said. It was a question that needed no answer. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes not leaving his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the thoughts, the doubts, the worries. All that was left was him.

Chris didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but purposeful. He seemed to be studying you, as if memorizing every detail before he closed the distance between you. His thumb traced your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, without another word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if you both were testing the waters. His lips were soft, and the warmth of them against yours made everything else in the room seem far away. You could taste the faint mint on his breath, feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he leaned in a little deeper. It was everything—sweet, tender, and oh so careful.

His hand, still on your face, cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment. You felt his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer. Your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow bursts, and you couldn’t help but respond, your lips moving against his with growing confidence.

He let out a soft, barely audible groan between the kisses, a sound so low, so raw, it made your entire body shiver in response. The sound of it sent a spark straight through you, igniting something deep inside. You felt the shift in his kiss, from gentle to hungry, as if he was searching for something deeper—something that only you could give him.

His hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your throat, sending heat radiating through your body. You felt his breath hitch as his lips parted slightly, his mouth moving with more urgency against yours.

Every kiss felt like a spark, igniting a flame inside you that you didn’t know you had. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a silent question, a request, and you parted your lips, meeting him halfway. The kiss deepened, slower now, but with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation of his lips on yours was intoxicating, every touch electrifying, and your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

His hands roamed, exploring the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together with a force that made your heart ache. You could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the way his body seemed to match yours in every movement. Each kiss was like a promise, each breath shared between you was another step deeper into something you couldn’t name but didn’t want to escape.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more intense, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for air, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling in the space between. His lips were swollen, slightly parted, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. That familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes, but it was softer now, more intimate.

“Damn,” he whispered, voice rough from the kiss. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You laughed softly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Yeah, me too,” you breathed, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you just stayed there, your foreheads touching, both of you savoring the silence, the stillness of the moment. And in that silence, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper.

First Time He Wrote You Something

It wasn’t like Chris to do something so... thoughtful. He was always the one to crack a joke or do something spontaneous to make me laugh, but this? This was different.

It started out like any other day. We’d spent hours texting, trading stupid jokes and sending each other random things we found online. But then, a few hours later, I got a message from him that wasn’t like the rest.

“Check your mailbox.”

I stared at my phone, confused. What was he talking about? It was late, and we hadn’t talked about anything that would involve a physical letter. But curiosity tugged at me, and I figured I’d humor him.

I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, my mind swirling with questions I didn’t have answers to yet. The walk to the mailbox felt like an eternity, the cold air stinging my skin as I opened the metal box and found... a single, folded sheet of paper.

I pulled it out, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. Unfolding it, I saw his handwriting, neat but still unmistakably his. The words weren’t rushed, but carefully placed, like he’d taken the time to write this with purpose. I could feel something catch in my throat as I began to read.

Hey,

I’m not great at saying this stuff, but I need you to know. I’ve been thinking about you more than I probably should. When I’m with you, everything just makes sense. You don’t know it, but you’ve got this way of making everything lighter. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself, and that’s not something I can say about a lot of people.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I guess I just want you to know... I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m in it. I just wanted you to know that.

Chris

I stood there, the paper pressed against my chest, not sure what to do with myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he liked me, but hearing it like this, reading it in his words, felt different. It felt real. It felt like something I wasn’t quite ready for, but something I also couldn’t ignore.

I laughed, almost nervously, at how my heart seemed to speed up, the way my chest felt tight, like there was something big happening in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, trying to act normal, but the reality of what it meant settled in a few minutes later. This wasn’t just some fling or casual thing for Chris. He’d put himself out there, and I couldn’t ignore that.

First Time He Called Me His

It was late afternoon, and the park was full of life. A mix of families, groups of friends, and people just lounging around, enjoying the last rays of sun before it dipped below the horizon. Chris and I had been hanging out all day, tossing a frisbee back and forth with some of his friends, laughing and joking around like we always did. The energy was contagious, and everyone around us seemed to be in the same carefree, easygoing vibe.

I had just finished taking a swig from my water bottle, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stood off to the side to catch my breath. The heat of the day had been intense, but the evening breeze was starting to cool everything down. I was leaning against the tree, watching Chris and his friends make stupid jokes and just goofing off, and honestly, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he threw himself into everything—whether it was the game or just hanging out—that made it impossible not to feel alive in the moment.

I was about to head over to join them when one of his friends made a comment. It was a harmless joke, but the second it came out of his mouth, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Yo, Chris, how’s it feel to have such a hot girl with you all the time? Bet she's always making you look good, huh?”

Chris laughed in his signature loud, carefree way, but then, without missing a beat, he shot back, not at all embarrassed to let everyone hear him.

“That’s my girl, yeah? Of course she makes me look good.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made my heart jump in my chest. His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable edge of pride to it. He didn’t even pause to think about it. He didn’t shy away from owning it, letting his friends know that I wasn’t just some girl in the group. I was his.

For a moment, everything around me froze. The world kept turning—the laughter, the noise, the frisbee flying through the air—but all I could hear was the confidence in his voice. I could feel a warmth rush to my face, and I couldn’t help but look at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He was grinning at me, that teasing smirk on his lips, but I could tell by the way his eyes softened that he was serious.

The whole exchange had lasted maybe three seconds, but in that short window, I felt a surge of warmth wash over me. Not from embarrassment or pride, but from the reassurance of knowing he was proud to call me his. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thoughts. Just a simple, confident statement, like he was stating a fact everyone should know. I belonged to him in the most genuine, affectionate way possible.

I chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling of being exposed, but my heart was still racing. It wasn’t a dramatic, over-the-top moment. It wasn’t some grand gesture or a public declaration of love. It was just him, casually stating it in front of his friends, so easily, without needing to make it a big deal. But it meant everything to me.

I could see that his friends had gone back to their own banter, but I stood there for a moment longer, looking at Chris as if he’d just given me something no one else could ever take away. The breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and I felt, for the first time in a long while, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chris walked over, tossing his frisbee back to his friend with one hand, and then, just as he passed by me, his arm casually slid around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his breath brushing against my ear, “that’s my girl.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt them settle deep inside my chest, a quiet claim of ownership that made me feel more seen, more special than I could ever have imagined. I smiled to myself as he pulled me closer, and though the sun was starting to set, I could swear the world had never felt warmer.

Dr. Callahan was quiet for a moment, letting me sit with the memory, but I could feel his gaze on me. His voice broke through the stillness. "It sounds like that was a really powerful moment for you. The confidence Chris showed, the way you felt... secure, loved. It’s understandable why that would stick with you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my knee. I could almost still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the laughter of his friends in the background, but those feelings were starting to blur, slipping into the recesses of my mind like water sinking into the sand.

"Yeah..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It was... easy, you know? It was simple. And I guess that's what makes it hurt now. Because it felt so secure. Like, I didn’t have to question it."

The room felt suddenly too quiet. I felt like I was speaking into the stillness, but it wasn’t just the room that was silent. It was the memory—one that had been so vivid a second ago—now starting to fade, like it was being replaced by something else. Something else that felt like it needed to be said, or maybe something that I wanted to remember next.

The shift was subtle at first. A slight tension in my chest, like a thread was being pulled in my brain, unraveling a different memory. One that felt like it belonged to the same day. It was almost like I could feel it coming, the next scene playing in my mind like a movie that had just begun its second act. The shift in the air, the change in the temperature of the room—like I was leaving behind the warmth of the park for something different, something that wasn’t quite as clear.

The time he took my virginity

The room was soft with dim lighting, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more sacred. The quiet hum of the outside world faded as I lay there, my heart racing in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him more than anything—Chris was my anchor, the one person who made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. And now, as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this moment was something we would share, something precious.

“Are you sure, baby?” His voice was a gentle whisper, full of care, full of concern. He was looking at me like I was something so fragile, and in that moment, I knew he was never going to hurt me. “We’ll take it slow, doll. I’ll guide you, okay? You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, my breath shaky, but I felt his warmth surrounding me, giving me the courage to be vulnerable with him. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, but he heard me, and I could see the tenderness in his eyes.

Chris smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. “Good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then my nose, and finally, pressing his lips gently to mine. His kiss was slow, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every inch of me. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something so sweet and so full of love. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, okay? Let me do all the work.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. His soothing tone, the way he was speaking to me like I was the most precious thing in the world, melted away any lingering doubt. He wasn’t rushing, never rushing. Everything about him, from the way his hands brushed against my skin to the way he kissed me, was so slow, so deliberate, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

His hands, warm and steady, began to move over me gently. As he started to ease my jeans down, his fingers grazed my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch all over my body. I tried to steady myself, but the nerves still lingered. I covered my mouth to stifle the noise of discomfort, and I could feel my heart pound faster.

“100%?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer. You smiled, nodding as you placed your hand over his. “100%.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, quickly resuming your kiss as his hands worked on removing his jeans and boxers, hastily pulling down your underwear after. He’d had half a mind to pull you to your bedroom, he knew where it was after spending the night in your apartment a many times, but the way you whined against his lips made him hoist you up, hands on the underside of your thighs as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. 

The wall felt cool against your skin, but all you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds, the slick sound of your arousal coating his skin making you blush. He pushed himself against you, securing you against the bedframe as he moved his hand from the underside of your thigh, guiding his cock into your waiting cunt. The accompanying stretch made you sigh, eyes fluttering as he began slowly rocking his hips, wanting to give you a few moments to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

Chris’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw my hand over my mouth, but he didn’t miss a beat. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice low but soothing. “It’s okay, baby. The pain won’t last long, I promise,” he whispered. “Just breathe with me, alright? I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll take care of you.”

I nodded into his shoulder, the words comforting me as I tried to relax. My body still felt tense, and I couldn’t hold back the small noises slipping past my lips. I bit down on his shoulder, trying to distract myself from the pain, but I could feel myself biting harder as he slowly went deeper.

Chris noticed immediately, his gaze softening with concern. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his hand gently lifting my chin from his shoulder. His touch was so tender, so caring, as he guided my face to look at him. “Don’t be shy, okay? Let your noises out. I want to hear you. You don’t need to hold back with me, doll. You’re doing so good.”

His voice was full of warmth, and the gentle praise in his words made me feel a sense of comfort, of reassurance. He kissed me again, this time, softer than before, like he was savoring the moment, reassuring me that everything was okay.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re amazing. I know this is hard, but I’m so proud of you. Let go, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands were so gentle as they massaged my lower abdomen, and I felt my body slowly starting to relax into his touch. His kisses, soft and sweet, trailed down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every little noise that escaped my lips only made him praise me more, each word full of love and tenderness.

“See, baby? It’s so beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing over my collarbone, where I loved to feel his touch. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re perfect”

“This alright?” He asked, voice strained as his hands clutched your thigh and hip. You could only nod in response, hands flush against his back as he thrusted up into you. He felt like heaven, his body so close to yours that each roll of his hips caused your clit to brush against his lower stomach, providing much-needed friction along with the feeling of his cock rutting inside of you. 

You could hear his breath catch in his throat whenever you’d clench around him, fingertips grasping your flesh with enough ferocity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your skin the day after. He trailed his lips along your throat, sucking love bites into the soft skin as he fucked himself into you, smiling against your throat whenever he’d draw a moan from you. 

He pressed against me again, his movements slow, ensuring that I felt every inch of his care. His lips traced over my skin, leaving soft, feather-light kisses, and with each movement, he made sure to check in with me. “I’m right here, baby. We’re taking this slow. You’re amazing. Just relax, and let me love you.”

As he eased a little deeper, I felt the pressure of him there, and despite the discomfort, the warmth of his touch made everything feel safer. He noticed the way I bit down on his shoulder again and, gently, pulled my jaw from him.

He pulled me closer, his hand gently cupping my face and brushing away a stray tear. He wiped the sweat from my brow, pushing stray strands of hair from my face with such tenderness, his touch like a balm.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern and love. He rubbed my lower abdomen gently, his touch slow and comforting. “Tell me where it hurts, doll. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The pain in my stomach was dull but persistent, and his gentle touch only made me feel safer. “It’s here,” I whispered, still pressing my mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep the noise in.

Chris’s hand continued to rub my lower abdomen softly, his touch slow and comforting. “I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing so good, doll. You’re my girl, and I’m so lucky to be with you.”

“Baby, don’t be shy. Let it out, okay? You don’t need to hold back,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. He placed my hand over my lower abdomen and pressed it gently down, guiding me to feel just how far we’d come. “You took almost all of it” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. “We’ll take it slow. I promise you, the pain will stop soon. Just one more time, and we’ll be through it, alright? You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words were like a balm to my nerves, his gentle praise soothing my every fear. The way he held me, his every touch full of love, made everything feel so much better. I felt my body start to relax again, his soft words and careful touch giving me the courage to let go and trust him completely.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

Every time I let out a small noise, whether it was a shaky breath or a soft wince, his dick would twitch. “You sound so pretty.” He whispered, words followed by a soft grunt as his pace picked up a notch, your movements against the wall causing a series of barely audible thuds to echo throughout your living room. “You feel so good.”

His words came out hushed, always interrupted by a whine or a moan that he tried to hide in the crook of your neck. Every noise you heard from him went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around him as you felt your orgasm budding in your lower stomach. Your thighs tightened around his hips, heels subtly digging into his skin as you rolled your hips to meet his movements. 

he murmured, kissing me softly.

He continued to move, slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body as he guided me through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered again, his voice filled with pride. “So good"

His kisses continued, soft and comforting, and with every reassuring word, every gentle touch.

I smiled into the kiss, a small, shaky thing, but it was real. It felt so good to be loved like this, to be held with so much care, so much tenderness. I couldn’t speak yet, the emotions and the sensations overwhelming me, but I repeated his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Chris...”

“I know, I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so soothing. He kissed my forehead, his hands still moving over me, tender and patient. He was giving me space to feel everything, to adjust to him at my own pace.

His touch was everywhere, a steady presence on my body that made me feel cherished, loved, and safe. As his hand moved to gently massage my lower abdomen, I felt my body responding, but in a way I couldn’t express with words. I reached down, guiding his hand to where I needed him most, the place where I would feel good, where my body craved his touch.

Chris’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need words to understand what I was asking for. “You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride. “I love that you know what you need. I’m here with you, okay? I’m right here.”

I whispered his name again, this time with a soft, breathless smile on my lips, “Chris…” I make a weak attempt to continue my previous sentence.

“Oh, fuck-“ He whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as your hips moved with his, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each kiss intercepted by a whine or whimper of your name. Your fingers dug into the muscles lining his back, head rolling back to rest against the wall. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ You murmured, words near slurred as your cunt spasmed around his cock. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the feeling of you coming undone around him, his pace faltering for mere seconds as he tried his best to keep himself upright, legs practically shaking from the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around him. 

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise as he chased his own. You threaded your fingers through his hair, subtly grasping onto the strands as he rutted into you. He seemed to like the feeling, face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he came inside of you. His hips stuttered with each wave of his orgasm, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he grunted through the feeling. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you full of his cum. 

You kissed his cheek and jaw, catching your breath all the while. You couldn’t help but smile against his damp skin, loving the way he still held you in his arms even through his orgasm. A soft laugh bubbled past your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him. 

In the end, I was breathless, my body aching in the most beautiful way. As he held me close, his hands gently tracing over my skin, I felt completely at ease, completely safe.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but sincere, my heart full of him.

Chris kissed me softly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you, baby. So much,” he whispered, his voice warm and comforting, like a blanket I could wrap myself in forever.

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. Safe in his arms, loved and cherished beyond measure, and I could feel my heart swell with love for him in return.

The night he promised forever

It was a night that felt like it belonged in a movie. Everything was perfect—the soft lighting from the street lamps, the cool breeze in the air, and the way I felt as I walked into the room, completely transformed. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my outfit was just right. The soft fabric of my dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my hair, usually more casual, was styled into gentle waves that made me feel a little more glamorous than usual.

And then there was Chris. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time that night—it was pure awe. His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked at me, barely able to speak. "Baby," he breathed, "you... you look unbelievable."

I smiled softly, trying to act calm, but inside I was a mess of butterflies. "Thanks, Chris," I said, giving a little twirl to show off the dress.

Chris didn’t even try to hide how his gaze followed me, his lips curling into a grin that was almost too proud to be real. He chuckled, shaking his head, trying to play it off. "God, you’re so beautiful. I’m actually losing it right now." He stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I don’t think I can even look at you anymore tonight or I might just—" He stopped, shaking his head again with a mischievous grin. "Never mind."

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully, and then we were off. The date had all the right vibes—casual and sweet, with just enough energy to keep everything exciting. After a cozy dinner, we ended up at the ice cream shop, Chris already making jokes about how he was going to spoil me with whatever flavor I wanted. I picked vanilla, my favorite, and Chris got his usual mint chocolate chip.

Sitting on the bench outside, enjoying our ice cream, Chris couldn’t help but tease me every chance he got. His eyes were practically locked on my lips, and I could tell his mind was racing. When I got a little ice cream on the tip of my nose, his face lit up. Without even thinking, he leaned over, his lips gently brushing my nose to kiss the ice cream away.

He pulled back with a smirk, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Mmm, vanilla, huh?" he said, voice dropping lower. "Reminds me of what I want to taste from you tonight."

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I pushed his face away teasingly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. "Chris! Stop," I giggled, pushing him back playfully, but I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine from his words.

Chris, unfazed, just laughed softly and leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my cheek. "I’m just sayin’, doll, you look too good tonight. It’s driving me crazy."

I smiled, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, especially with how his eyes were scanning me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me. Chris was always so sweet and gentle, but there was a side of him that was so much more intense when he wanted something. He kissed my cheek softly, then my jaw, and whispered in my ear, "Can’t wait for tonight, baby. I can already picture it. You in my bed with your thighs squeezing my face... God, that thought is driving me wild."

I gasped, pushing him away again, laughing but feeling my heart race. "Chris, you’re impossible!" But there was no hiding the fact that I loved his words, even if they made me feel nervous.

"Come on, don’t be shy, baby," he said softly, his hands reaching for mine, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. "You know I’m always gentle with you. I just love teasing you... You make me want you so bad." His voice was soft and warm, but there was a sincerity in it that made my stomach flutter.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling all the tension melt away. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just him, me, and the promise of a night where everything between us felt just right. He was sweet, tender, and always knew just how to make me feel special—even when he was making dirty jokes or teasing me endlessly.

"I just wanna take care of you, baby," he whispered, pulling me close as we continued to laugh and smile. "You’re perfect in every way. Don’t forget that."

I looked up at him, feeling my heart full of affection. "I won’t, Chris. I promise." And that promise was sealed with another soft kiss from him, one that made me forget everything else in the world but him.

Forever without me

The room spins as you stumble into the apartment, your arm draped over Chris’s shoulder for balance. Your feet barely manage to keep up with his steady steps as he guides you inside, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you some water,” Chris murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re gonna feel like crap if you don’t.”

You giggle, your words slurred as you sway against him. “I don’t need water. I need... I don’t know what I need.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he helps you toward the couch. “Well, I know what you need, doll, and it’s water. Trust me.”

He sets you down gently, brushing the hair out of your face as you blink up at him with a hazy smile. “You’re so... pretty, Chris,” you mumble, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one, baby. Now sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen, your head lolling against the couch as your eyelids grow heavy. When he returns with a glass of water, he kneels in front of you, holding it out.

“Drink,” he coaxes, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a few sips, m’kay?”

You pout, pushing the glass away weakly. “I don’t want it. I can do this myself.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his patience unwavering. “Doll, you can barely sit up. Just humor me, alright?”

You groan but take a sip, your movements clumsy. He watches you carefully, his hand resting on your knee to steady you. When you’re done, he sets the glass aside and stands, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get you changed and into bed,” he says, tugging you up gently.

You sway on your feet, your head falling against his chest as he wraps an arm around you to keep you upright. “I don’t need help,” you mumble, your tone stubborn. “I can do it myself.”

Chris lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know you can, baby, but let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

You huff but let him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you on the edge of the bed and crouches down, his hands carefully unlacing your shoes. His movements are so tender, so patient, it makes your chest ache.

“I can do this,” you mutter again, trying to push his hands away as he reaches for the hem of your top.

Chris’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “I know you can, but you’re drunk, and I’m just trying to help.”

You swat at his hands as he gently pulls your shirt over your head. “I’m not a kid, Chris. I don’t need you to baby me.”

He freezes for a moment, his hands stilling as his eyes flicker to yours. “I’m not babying you,” he says softly. “I’m taking care of you.”

But your words keep spilling out, unfiltered by your inebriated state. “You always do this,” you mumble, your tone accusatory. “You treat me like I can’t do anything on my own.”

Chris’s shoulders tense, and he exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “That’s not what I’m doing, doll,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of weariness. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You shake your head, your words growing more jumbled. “You just... you’re always... I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

The hurt that flashes across his face is fleeting, but it’s there. He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says quietly, standing up. “If that’s how you feel.”

He takes a step back, his blue eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something—anything—that would undo the sting of your words. But when you don’t, he nods to himself and steps toward the door.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he says, his voice tight, and with that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

-

The pounding in your head is relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the aching void in your chest. You stir on the couch, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and find Chris sitting beside you. He’s leaning back, his arm draped over the couch’s edge, his face unreadable.

You shift closer to him, resting your head against his stomach, desperate for some kind of connection. His body tenses under you, but he doesn’t say a word. You tilt your face up, planting soft kisses along the fabric of his hoodie, trailing them lower, hoping to draw out some kind of reaction.

“Chris,” you whisper, your voice small and pleading. When he doesn’t respond, you kiss him again, this time with more intention. “Please, talk to me.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming to rest on your head for a brief moment before pulling away. “Baby, not now,” he says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

You ignore his words, your emotions high and desperate. Your fingers graze his jaw as you press another kiss to his stomach. “Why not?” you murmur, your lips trembling. “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his patience visibly fraying. “I said not now,” he repeats, still trying to keep his tone even. “You’re not in the right headspace.”

The sting of rejection hits hard, and your chest tightens with a mix of shame and hurt. “Chris,” you plead again, sitting up now, your hands reaching for his face. “Why won’t you touch me? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenches, and he finally looks at you, his blue eyes filled with frustration. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart breaks at the coldness in his tone, and before you can stop yourself, you move to straddle his lap, your fingers fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Chris grabs your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away. “Stop,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Baby, stop this.”

But you don’t stop. You lean in, pressing your lips to his, your desperation palpable. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?”

That’s when he snaps. Chris pushes you back slightly, his voice exploding with emotion. “Why not? Are you serious right now?” He stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he paces the room.

You sit there, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. “Chris, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he cuts you off, turning to face you, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even remember last night? Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling for answers. “No, I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I just remember you helping me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I helped you. I always help you. But you don’t remember telling me that I’m controlling? That I treat you like a child? That you feel smothered by me?”

Your heart sinks, and tears spring to your eyes. “Chris, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he spits, his voice sharp. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to disappear because you don’t remember.”

Tears stream down your face as you stand, trying to close the distance between you. “I don’t feel that way, Chris. I swear. I love you.”

Chris’s laughter is harsh, almost cruel. “You love me?” he echoes. “Then why are you acting like this? Why are you so desperate for me to touch you now when last night you couldn’t stand the way I take care of you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his arm. “I just wanted you. I needed you.”

He shakes his head, his voice rising again. “You needed me? You always need me, don’t you? You act like this—like a child—whenever things get tough. You love being babied in bed, and I’m always soft with you because you’re so damn sensitive.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, he pauses, his face softening slightly as guilt flickers in his eyes. He hesitates, his mouth opening as if he’s about to backtrack. But then his jaw sets, and he doubles down.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he continues, his voice harder now. “You’re so sensitive and overdramatic that I have to walk on eggshells around you all the time. I have to take my time with you, but now you’re acting like this—like you can’t wait another second. Why?”

Your sobs grow louder as his words cut deeper, and you shake your head, trying to reach for him. “Chris, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But he doesn’t stop. His frustration has taken over completely, and he’s unable to hold back. “Why are you so needy and quick for me now?” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You make me feel like I can’t win no matter what I do. I’m either not enough, or I’m too much.”

Your knees buckle, and you collapse back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “Chris, please,” you beg, your voice barely audible.

He softens slightly, the anger in his expression replaced by sadness. “I love you,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m never enough for you.”

Before you can respond, he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door. “I hope you figure out what you really want,” he says quietly before walking out, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of his absence.

You sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the memory settles between you and Dr. Callahan. "That’s the last time I saw him," you say, staring down at your hands clutching a tissue.

The room feels oppressively quiet, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the silence. Your chest tightens as the words hang in the air, final and raw. "I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused, and he was gone. His hoodie wasn’t on the chair anymore, his keys weren’t on the table. He didn’t even leave a note."

Your breath hitches as your eyes well up again, and you swipe at your face angrily with the tissue. "I don’t even remember all of what I said that night. I just know I was crying, begging him, practically throwing myself at him—and he snapped. He told me I was too much. That I’m always too much."

Your voice cracks, and you let out a shaky exhale. "I mean, he wasn’t wrong, was he? I am too much. I pushed him so hard that he finally broke. And then I just… let him leave. I didn’t even try to stop him."

Dr. Callahan leans forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice is soft but grounded. "It sounds like that moment is still very raw for you. But it also sounds like there’s a lot of blame you’re placing on yourself. Have you thought about why you let him leave without stopping him?"

You blink hard, the tears blurring your vision. "Because… I thought he’d come back," you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. "He always came back before. No matter how bad the fights got, no matter what I said or did—Chris always came back."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "But this time, he didn’t."

You press the tissue to your nose, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. "I don’t know why I even thought he would. He looked at me like I was a stranger that night. Like he didn’t even know me anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe I pushed him so far that he stopped loving me, and I just didn’t want to see it."

Dr. Callahan watches you for a moment, her expression calm but empathetic. "What you’re describing—losing someone you cared so deeply for—is incredibly painful. But it’s also important to understand that relationships don’t break down because of one person. It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself."

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "But I did this," you choke out. "I was the one who couldn’t stop. I was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even tell him I’m sorry. I can’t take back any of it."

Your chest feels hollow as you lean back into the couch, the tears still falling freely. Deep down, you wonder if the ache will ever stop. If the image of him walking out the door that night will ever fade. If you’ll ever feel whole again without him.

To be continued??

A/N: This fic has been a labor of love and has definitely been time-consuming to write! Mostly due to the fact that I never slept in 2 days. A huge shoutout to the amazing anon who requested a story about a breakup with a personal spin on it—hopefully, this is exactly what you were hoping for! If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me. If you liked the story, or even if you have thoughts or feedback, any sort of interaction is always beyond appreciated. Thank you again for reading 🩷

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[sunnypopoki]

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.6

(Yandere Mafia Husband x Female Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Your husband has been suspicious lately. Going out for days on end, answering suspicious phone calls, being extra clingy when he can... is he cheating on you?

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.5 / Р.7

"Leovana Co?" you echoed, almost dumbfounded to hear the name. "Are you talking about that one billionaire company that deals with communication?"

Danny looked like a kid on Christmas. His chest swelled with pride and he held his chin high, looking down at you from the edge of his nose. You noticed the way his eyes glittered. It was the same pride he used to get each time he got a perfect score on his tests in school. His pearly white teeth gleamed when he smiled.

"Yes! As cheesy as this sounds, Leovanna is a place where dreams really do come true. When I started working there, I wasn't anything, but look at me now!"

That wasn't that convincing. From what you can see, Danny acted like a lesser version of himself compared to how he used to be. It was as if all the good stuff was zapped from his body the moment he found a decent job and started getting a good income. Money truly was a game changer and while you weren't one to judge, you couldn't help but see him in a different light when he was acting so, well, snooty.

You didn't understand why he wanted to hire you. Leovana was only founded a couple of years ago yet it rose up the ranks incredibly fast, toppling over any other competition in its path. Frontier, T-Mobile, and even Apple—this new company was devastating to their charts. Just recently they came out with a new phone that had far more data space than most other phones out there, showing off their new and improved features that to you, seemed like it was out of a movie.

It was hard to believe that artificial intelligence was getting so far out there. And Leovana was taking it by force with how far they've thrown themselves into the field.

Though, didn't he understand how suspicious it was to just give job opportunities out of the blue? Yes, you trusted him more than most people, but your gut was telling you that there was something off about the whole ordeal. You couldn't quite place it.

Kieran moved his hand from yours and placed it behind your head on your seat. He seemed to be deep in thought before asking, "I hope you're not going to drop a ball on us and tell us you're the CEO."

Danny snorted. It almost sounded mocking. "Ah, no. I work under the CEO with a team of secretaries. If (Y/N) joined us, she would be working under him too, though I would also be her supervisor."

He raised an eyebrow. Glancing over at him, you noticed the subtle tensing of his jaw. A feather of a muscle in his jaw twitched and he licked his teeth slowly, he looked back at saber. He wasn't looking at Danny as if he was a long lost friend; instead he viewed him to be a nuisance, like a steaming pile of shit on the side of the sidewalk.

It seemed you weren't the only one affected by Danny's rambling. Your stress was most likely rubbing off on Kieran too.

"So you work for the CEO? And you see him regularly?" Kieran asked unblinking. "And that gives you authority to hire whoever you want without repercussions towards the CEO, who is your boss? If it's team his of secretaries, shouldn't he have a say in who you hire?"

Danny was missing all of the social cues. He couldn't sit still, continuing to squirm in his seat, still beaming like the sun. "The CEO is a friend of mine, as well as my employer. He trusts me with hiring, plus, he's far too busy to look into every person who tries to get into such a position. He leaves that work to the people below him."

You rubbed your forehead. All of this was confusing.

Danny continued to blabber. "I mean, Kieran, if you also want to work there, I can look for—"

"No."

Danny was rendered speechless. Kieran raised an eyebrow in response. You wanted to shrivel up and hide.

"O—Oh... apologies, I thought you were interested. Since you were asking so many questions, I suppose I got a little excited."

With how many times you rubbed your face, you wouldn't be surprised if you broke out in the next couple of days because of it.

Taking a deep breath, you forced your hands back to your lap. You had a ton of questions. But where to start with all of them? You wanted to ask about what he wanted, what his goal was, why he was acting so weird, if he truly wasn't working for your father. Half of them were accusatory, but in that moment, you didn't care.

It was always best to start small and then work up to the bigger questions. "...Danny, can you tell me why you're asking me this? Like, what's your goal from all of this, because I don't understand."

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Well, I—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

You paused when Kieran's phone started humming from his pocket. Danny stopped talking and recoiled when Kieran cursed. It was in Russian so the both of you had no clue what he said, but based on the foul scowl he was carrying, it wasn't good.

Of course his phone was ringing now. You couldn't read the screen from how he held the phone, but you could only guess it was another unknown number. A metallic taste formed under your tongue.

Who knows, maybe it was Sam! You wanted to gag and hurl at the thought. Anxiety was at an all new high for you now.

"Do you need to take it?" Danny asked politely, smiling softly.

"Ah... yes. Sorry my Котик, I need to take this. I'll be right back, it won't take me long." His voice was a little snippy. That phone call seemed to make his mood look ten times worse, whatever it was about, whoever it was.

It felt like a punch in the gut. Sure, his phone just HAD to ring, but he also HAD to answer a phone call? When you were stressed as fuck, stuck in an uncomfortable situation, and anxiously sick? He got up before you could protest (not that you had the guts to do so) and walked away from the table to find somewhere more private.

There was a solid lump in the center of your throat. Like a lodged rock from a creak, you felt like you were choking. The light flickered above the table. Turning back around, you let your head fall into your hands. Manners be damned!

Danny was quiet for a little bit. When he did speak, it was a much smaller voice than before.

"...Did I do something?"

"No."

It came out harsher than you intended. Aggravated for Kieran having another phone call, stressed about the situation, and dissociating from the entire planet was a lot to take at once. You did your best to focus on the table. Counting the amount of lines you could see, noting the glossy reflection of the overhead light, and the cool touch of the wood.

You wanted to go home. But now Kieran was off somewhere to talk to who-knows-who! Normally, you wouldn't be bothered being stuck with Danny, but it wasn't like he was the same guy you used to talk to in school. He was now an annoying pest. The said man took a sip of his wine and placed it down. There was a couple of seconds before he spoke again.

"Are you sure? I feel like—"

"I said no, Danny! Do you know what the word 'no' means? Use that big brain of yours and figure it out!" you snapped, turning your glare to him.

He froze. His hands fell into his lap and he pursed his lips.

You felt a tad bit of guilt when you saw his face, but you quickly pushed it down. He was the one sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

You groaned and rubbed at your forehead, swallowing the rock in your throat. The lights were bright, the smell of food was so strong it made you want to gag, and the seat was uncomfortable. The world shifted and you clenched your eyes shut. It was as if someone decided to stuff cotton inside your skull around your brain, making it a soft pillow to rest. But at the same time every detail felt blinding.

Why did you want to cry? It wasn't like you were sad. Rubbing at your eyes, you prayed for the ache behind your eyelids to go away. Danny continued to bounce his leg up and down, making you even more annoyed.

Where is Kieran?

Who is he talking to?

Is it Sam?

"Uhm, (Y/N)..." Danny started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He was a little naïve, but he wasn't dumb enough to miss you spacing out. He tilted his head when he noticed your blank stare at the table. "Are you okay? Can I talk to you about something?"

Maybe dad was right.

Maybe I'm only meant for business.

What if dad finds me?

Will he force me back?

Danny shuffled in his seat and leaned forward, his brows furrowing ever so slightly in concern. He didn't know what to do. Kieran was the one who always knew how to help you, not him! He debated on poking you or something, but refrained from using his hands to get your attention. "(Y/N)?"

I should at least talk to him, to see what he wants.

Wait, no, that'll just be playing into what they want.

Fuck. What should I do?

Maybe I—

A soft, fragile hand touched yours. You jolted and your eyes snapped open to see Danny tenderly reaching out to you, his fingertips barely brushing your hand out of fear that you didn't want to be touched. He quickly pulled back when he gathered your attention and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. I—uh, I didn't know what to do," he cleared his throat.

"What do you want?"

It was unfair of you to take your anger out on someone who didn't know how to read your thoughts. It was your fault for expecting him too, but hey, if he was so fucking smart, maybe he could learn to read the room!

Danny shuffled in his seat and lowered his head. Danny was always a bit slow when catching up to things and stuff often went over his head, but he always managed to catch up in the end. Based on his reaction now, he finally realized you were upset and Kieran was too. Good. He finally noticed the obvious, even if it took your snapping at him for him to realize.

"Shit. Uhm—I'm sorry... if like, I upset you. I didn't mean to. I'm just," he sucked in a sharp breath, "I don't know what to say. I just... wanted to impress you guys. But I guess I went about it the wrong way."

"You think?"

Danny bit his lip. "Sorry."

He seemed to shrink in his seat and you rolled your eyes.

Danny scratched the back of his neck and glanced around the restaurant. He looked ashamed of something. You were hoping he left the conversation be, but he opened his mouth again. "If you want, I can walk you out to your car."

"I'd rather not," you muttered sourly.

"Okay... do you want—"

"It's fine."

"Why are you acting so mean?" Danny blurted, his tone not as accusatory as the question sounded. He sounded calm, albeit a little hurt and confused, but calm nonetheless. He was never the type to explode.

Your lips zipped shut.

It was easy to forget you weren't kids anymore. There was nothing holding you back from actually having a conversation. You found it easier to tell Danny what you were thinking compared to anyone else, maybe because he's known you for such a long time, or maybe it was because his parents were also pieces of shit. Even if that also meant being a complete dick to him.

It came back again, that spark of guilt. It wasn't smothered this time. Instead it was fueled by your overwhelming senses and you bit the edge of your tongue.

"I..."

"What did I do to make you act like I'm the worst human being to exist?" Danny asked, his lips pulling into a soft frown. "You're treating me like I'm gum you just stepped on."

What?! No you weren't! You were treating him the same way he treated you the entire outing. Defiance raged through your body.

"Well, the entire time you were looking down on us—"

"Really? And you knew this how?" he asked, his voice tightening. Now he was getting a little angry. He was starting to understand what you were thinking, little by little, based off the small bits of info you were giving him. "Because you assumed? You guessed?"

Just like you, he had every right to be upset, especially since you just lashed out at him after a genuine apology. You just assumed the worst. Off of what evidence? Your gut? Ha, as if that's evidence! Half the time, your gut is just your brain trying to avoid situations that make you uncomfortable. Your gut was telling you Kieran was cheating on you, your gut was telling you that you were a bad wife, your gut was telling you that you didn't deserve happiness.

What the hell did your gut know?

Danny slid out of his seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit. The silence was loud. You knew you should have apologized, for snapping at him, for taking out all your frustrations on him, but you stayed silent. You smothered your guilt until it was buried underneath you.

It was fine. Everything was fine. It wasn't like you were in the wrong, he was the one who made rude comments throughout the entire time they were sitting down. Just because he apologized for his bad behavior didn't mean you had to accept it.

"Here's my card with my personal number on the back. Call me if you want to talk again, (Y/N). I'll pay for your everything up front and I hope you have a good rest of your day."

There was nothing you could say. He placed the card next to your phone and left. Just like that, he was gone, and you were stuck with by yourself. The waitress didn't come over to ask anything if she saw you slump down further into your seat. Maybe she was avoiding you because of the heavy scowl you had on your face.

You don't know how long you sat there by yourself.

All you could think about was your parents. While Kieran worried you a lot, there were some things that made your entire body turn cold. Danny mentioned that he didn't take any ideas from your father and he wasn't working for him, but when it came down to your parents, you hated knowing that they could pretty much persuade anyone if they put their mind to it.

The mention of Dominic left your throat tight. He was a mastermind, cruel, and someone you wouldn't even touch with a ten foot pole. He had to be planting seeds of information and ideas into your father's head if your father was brave enough to call one of your old friends from school.

If they want me to come back into the family again, that means they're up to something devious. There was nothing else it could be. It wasn't like your family enjoyed your presence or liked you at all, so believing they had a random change of heart was a possibility that had to be thrown out the window. Let's say even if they did, you wouldn't have forgiven them for all the things they did.

Dominic had a lot of power. Enough power to make anyone think twice, even Danny, and that alone made you anxious.

When you were younger, any interactions you had with Dominic was limited. He was your cousin but he never attended any family gatherings unless your father was also in attendance. The times he talked to you were the times he was stuck inside a room with you alone, whether it be waiting to talk to your father, or he was left unattended in the manor.

Your nails picked at your skin. What was your father thinking? He brought up an arranged marriage to Danny, but why? Was he hoping you got married to him instead? It left a bitter taste in your mouth. Danny was handsome but not husband material, not for you at least.

God, Danny. Maybe you did mess up? He was right, you guessed what he was thinking and assumed everything, but wasn't he the one giving social cues that he was thinking that? Sure, he apologized, but you couldn't read minds. It wasn't like you knew that apology was sincere or not.

Wasn't it his fault?

Danny was the one acting like your father, not you.

Maybe that was where all of your annoyance stemmed from. Danny's blue tie, his position in work, where they sat; it reminded you far too much of your father for your liking. Even if the two of them were completely different men in both personalities and looks.

"Fuck," you whimpered, head falling into your hands. You wished you could go back in time and redid things with your family differently, maybe then they'd leave you alone.

"Котик, I'm back. Sorry that took me a moment, I..."

Kieran trailed off when he came back from his phone call. Tired and a tad bit sluggish, he looked around and brushed down his clothes. Bits of his hair were sticking out in odd angles.

"Where's Danny? Did he go to the bathroo—"

You shoved up from the table. Every thought was spinning inside your head over and over again. But mostly, you were angry. Angry at Kieran, angry at Danny, angry at your father. Your fingers brushed at your throat to soothe the painful knot there.

"Let's go home," you hissed, grabbing his wallet and slapping a tip down on the table. "Danny said he paid for us up front."

Kieran's eyes hardened. You weren't in the mood to play the "guess what he's thinking" game in that moment, so you stomped past him to head for the front doors. He didn't say anything and you were glad that he also wasn't in the mood to ask about what was making you so upset. It wasn't like you knew either.

The waitress smiled ear to ear when she saw the two of you leaving. Saying something about coming back, you ignored her and beelined for the door. Home. Fuck, all you wanted to do was get home.

The cold clawed at your skin the moment you stepped outside and stomped back to the car. It was amazing how someone's feelings could change so fast. One moment you were walking inside the restaurant with a hopeful smile, the next you were walking out with a bitter frown.

By default, you started thinking about what Kieran was possibly thinking. He was in a worse state now than he was earlier because of his phone call. There were only a certain handful of theories you could go through before you started to sound delirious.

What did the person on the other side tell him that made him so annoyed? Did it have something to do with the messages you saw on his computer between him and Sam? You hugged yourself tighter against the cold wind.

The cut on his face and busted knuckles flashed to the forefront of your mind. Maybe the phone call had to do with that? You didn't want to think about him being in debt or in some gang.

I'm going to have to snoop, aren't I? Every day was another day you were getting closer to giving up on being polite. If his privacy was the reason he was coming home cut up and late, you didn't give a shit about what he wanted. You had to make sure he wasn't being stupid or in a dangerous situation alone.

The car door slammed behind you. Kieran slipped in and turned the ignition. It roared to life and he messed with the controls up front.

The car was dead silent except for the pitter patter of icy rain falling from the sky, the hum of heat blasting through the vents, and the squeaking of leather when you shifted in your seat. Kieran inhaled and his hands flexed out on the steering wheel.

You didn't know what to say and if you had to be honest, you didn't want to speak. You enjoyed the silence.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Fucking hell. Again? Wouldn't you ever get a break from that noise? It was one thing after the other at this point!

His phone buzzed in his pocket for the umpteenth time that week. The lump in your throat formed at the sound, as if a phone was about to break that small thread of will you had left to not cry in the car. Kieran started grumbling under his breath, making your headache worse

It was just your luck that his phone started ringing again the moment you wished for it to stay quiet. You were starting to believe that you weren't allowed to have a peaceful life, not even a single moment where you were allowed to unwind.

"Hey... can you not answer it right now?" you asked weakly.

Kieran didn't hear, his head so stuck above the clouds in his own little world to think about reality. He took his phone out and read the screen. You caught a glimpse of unknown numbers. You sighed.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry," he responded absentmindedly. His eyebrows were furrowed in a specific way that cause a worried crinkle on his forehead, his eyes lidded in annoyance. "чего они хотят сейчас?"

"Kieran."

He didn't respond, his thumb hovering over the answer button. The patience you felt thinning throughout the entire day snapped.

"Kieran!"

He flinched. At the speed of light, his head whipped around to face you, eyes wide as saucer places. The ringing phone in his hand stopped when he failed to answer it on time, leaving the car in tense silence. He looked like he just got slapped.

A guttural sigh ripped through your throat. Fuck. You didn't mean to raise your voice, or maybe you did, you didn't know what you meant anymore. Your brain was messy and staticky. Like someone just rubbed a balloon and kept shocking your brain over and over again.

"Just—can you not answer the phone for one fucking day?" you rubbed your face and hunched in the seat, voice cracking. "That's all I ask. One day. I just want to go home and lay down, okay? No phone calls, no shitty networks on TV, no conversations. Can't we just lay down without any fucking distractions?"

He was quiet. Blood rushed to your ears and any feeling seemed to leave your fingertips as you wrung them together. All you wanted was to lay down with him and sleep. You were tired, your brain was tired, and the ache in your heart was a craving to be held. It was an odd feeling; too tired to cry, yet too emotional to do anything.

"I..." Kieran fumbled, obviously at a loss of words, but shifted in his seat to move his hand to yours. You never yelled and he was stunned to be at the end of it. His head spun in circles before he managed to figure out what to say next without upsetting you. "Yes. We can go home and lay down."

"Promise me, Kieran. Please."

There was a pause. You heard a sharp inhale and then a tight, "I promise."

You should have left it be. That alone was enough, there was no reason for you to ask for more reassurance, but you did. Of course you did. Because who were you without the constant need for reassurance over every single thing? The only reason you felt special was because you were always wanting him to reassure you that you were. You blamed it on the emotions that coursed through your head like veins of poison.

"And you won't answer the phone?" you whispered, so quiet you almost thought he couldn't hear you. "Even if someone calls you, you won't answer it? Promise me you won't answer it."

His hand squeezed tighter. Dragging your fingers to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles and then to your palm, then your fingertips. He whispered a promise to not do it again. But by the time his phone rang for a second time in a row, he glanced over at his phone, and cursed. He didn't answer it but a single glance told you that just like before, it wasn't a promise he could make.

Your ribs punctured your heart. Sighing, you took your hand away from his and pressed your cheek against the window.

Again, you expected too much.

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[ Read Ch.7 Here / not yet released ]

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business- part eight// t.c.

Warnings: cursing, kissing, mention of sex, secret relationship,fake relationship

In the hours that followed, Timmy and his three friends hung out in the living room area. His hairstylist came, publicists and managers showed up. It became quite crowded and loud. Much to the contrast of the way it was when it was just the two of you.

Kylie nor any of her entourage came, not that you expected her. She usually just showed up to the venue without him, waiting inside while he walked the red carpet. People thought that was honorable of her, to not take his spotlight. But the truth was that it was the way Timmy wanted it. He never was one to walk the carpet with a girlfriend, ever.

He never intended for his personal life to be so mainstream, sometimes overwhelming his career accomplishments. But he soon realized that it came with the territory in Hollywood. He didn’t wish to exploit himself even more with Kylie Jenner on his arm, posing for photos when all he wanted was to promote the film he had dedicated so much of himself to.

You kept up with your assistant duties, ordering lunch for everyone, getting drinks, and catering to Timmy when he needed.

It was getting close to time to leave, so you approached him. He looked dapper in his Tom Ford suit and blue tie, worn more like a scarf.

“Timmy, can I do anything else before I go get ready?” you asked.

He pursed his bottom lip, shaking his head, “No, I don’t think so. Remember what I said about your hair, though.” he winked.

You rolled your eyes playfully. Then his phone started buzzing, you looked at the screen in his hand. Kylie was calling, he gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher before walking away with it. You saw him put the device to his ear, answering with a simple “hello.”

You resigned to Timmy’s large bathroom to get ready for the Globes. You put on some burgundy and black eye makeup to go with your dress, and a neutral-colored lipstick. You curled your lashes, brushing them high to the heavens with your best mascara.

You gave yourself a blowout, making sure your hair was as fluffy and flowy as you could manage. Then, it was time for the lovely dress. You felt so grateful Timmy picked it out for you. You wondered if he ever had a say in anything Kylie wore to events. Probably not.

You put your everyday rings and necklace on, along with a couple spritzes of your favorite perfume and you were officially ready.

You opened the door, walking out to find your heels that you left in the living room.

“Ayyyyeee!” you heard Timmy hollering when he saw you. “Aiden, get some photos of her.” he instructed his photographer friend.

“Damn, y/n, you look hot!” Aiden exclaimed, “Now, come pose for me.”

“Oh, no, no that’s okay. I don’t really like pictures of myself.” you attempted to object, but to no avail. You put your high heels on.

"Over here," Timmy instructed pointing near the window in the living room, where he wanted you, "where the light's coming in."

You had never posed for photos alone before, and the boys could tell, so they were very helpful and encouraging. It was kind of fun, and you noticed the smirk on Timmy's face as he kept scanning his eyes up and down at you.

.........

Later, on the way to the Globes, Timmy instructed his friends to ride in a separate car, as you and he needed to "go over some things."

Once you were alone together in the car, he grabbed your face, and started to devour your neck, suctioning his lips there. He moaned against your skin as he held your jaw.

You placed your hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, "You're insane. You are literally on the way to see your girlfriend."

"You don't have to call her that. And I am nominated, you know. That is why I'm going, it's not to see her." he gazed at you, shaking his head slowly. "Fuck, you look amazing." He leaned in, kissing you on the lips this time.

His lips were soft, but the feeling of them was overshadowed by the tickling of his mustache on your top lip. The sensation made you feel like you could almost sneeze, so you pulled away with a giggle.

Timmy grinned at you, "What?"

"The 'stache." you explained, running your finger over the whisper of hair on his upper lip.

He blinked, realizing, "Oh." Nonetheless, he kissed you again, laying his hand on your thigh. "Mm," he pulled away, "will you stay over at my place tonight?"

"Are you sure? Will she find out?"

"Yes, I'm sure, and no, it's none of her business anyway." he brushed the subject off, as usual.

"So, you don't ever sleep with her?" you cringed at the thought.

"No," he rolled his eyes, "I haven't in months."

You felt relieved knowing that there wasn't a chance of him overlapping you and her. You hoped he hadn't recently been sleeping any woman for that matter. "She's not suspicious about you and other women? Does she know about us?"

"She doesn't ever say anything. And besides, I don't care what she does; she can go screw her baby daddy, or her bestie Stassi, or whoever she wants to. I really don't give a shit, so it's none of her business what I do."

"Do you think that's fair to her?"

"Why are you so concerned about her?" he put his arm around you, "She and I just keep up an image, that's all."

You shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I don't care for the way her family flaunts their money or the impossible and dangerous beauty standards that they set. Not to mention that she has copied clothing designs from smaller businesses, but at the end of the day, Kylie is just a girl, the same as me, you know? She doesn't deserve to be hurt any more than the next person."

Timmy nodded, "Yeah, but it is no more serious to her than it is to me. So, stop worrying." he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Okay." you whispered, unable to stop the smile that crept on your lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he touched your forehead.

The car came to a stop, and you could hear people yelling and cameras snapping outside. The driver got out, and Timmy said, "Alright, assistant, time for the show."

…….

You weren’t nervous on the red carpet, because it wasn’t about you. All eyes were on him. Fans shouting, cameras flashing, famous actors, directors, producers, all making a point to get Timmy’s attention and talk to him.

This part of your job was always a bit of a whirlwind, but you always enjoyed the rush. You would follow a few paces behind him, he would hand you sweet little gifts given to him from fans that you would always take to the car to keep them safe. You would look through them all together later.

You made sure to get pictures of him with fans and some celebrities, to send to his mother. She always loved seeing them. Some photos would just be keepsakes for Timmy as well. He trusted you with that sort of thing.

After about an hour of red-carpet photos and happy conversations, you knew it was time for Timmy to head inside. He had previously handed his phone over to you, and you noticed that Kylie had texted him several times. You didn’t want to bug him as he was doing his own thing, but you knew that the woman was restless. So, you showed him his phone with all of the notifications, and he sighed.

“Okay, let’s go. I’ll take you to your table.” he leaned in close to your ear, “I’ll have to kiss her tonight. But don’t be upset. We just have to sell it.” he whispered.

You knew how the machine worked, and you understood. “It’s okay.” you said to him.

He grabbed your hand, innocently leading you through the sea of people to get inside the venue.

January 24, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala

[vampiricstoryteller]

Are You Even Real?

Two smut stories in one night, whew I really do love these two characters and their relationship. I hope y’all enjoy this quick smut filled one shot.

Summary: Richter often wonders, especially when they’re in bed together, if Annette is even real

All mistakes are my own

Read fic on A03 here

Warnings: Explicit smut, swearing

The sun peeking through deep orange curtains, is what wakes Richter from his slumber. The rays have caught the reflection of a crystal charm that hangs from a vanity dresser mirror across the room. Richter knows this because he’s asked about the various charms all over the room on more than one occasion. Annette’s got one for every important person and event in her life, and the one currently blinding him at 6 in the morning is the one he’d gifted her as a birthday present.

Richter supposes it shows how far he’s truly come. Five months ago, being awaken at the crack of dawn by a trinket would have soured his entire day. But this morning, Richter breathes deep and says his thanks for being able to greet a new day. Then he rolls onto his side and wraps his arm around Annette. She’s still sleeping but when the weight of his arm on her waist settles, she wiggles until her back is pressed to his chest.

Richter smiles into her head scarf, the silk cool against his face which had obviously started being cooked by the sun rays. He curls to the shape of her, aligning their hips and tangling his one leg between both of hers.

Her breathing stays even, the dark skin of her chest rising and falling underneath a baby blue tank; one of his favorites that she purposefully wears when he stays over. Richter kisses her shoulder, obsessed with the softness of her skin and the way her body wash scent clings to her.

Relaxing into the pillow they share, Richter’s thumb rubs slow circles into the skin at her sternum and he let his mind drift a bit; enjoying the early morning calm.

Every day since he’d met Annette two years ago at Maria’s 18th birthday party, Richter had been completely into her. She was smart, funny, gorgeous and knew what she wanted in life. She brought purpose, serenity and sunshine to his finely structured but empty life; and though they may have only been dating five months, Richter loved her.

He’d been uninterested in much besides work and making sure his little sister was cared for when Annette crashed into his life (thanks Maria) and kept him on his toes every single time they had a conversation.

Some of his favorite memories of the time they spent together before they started dating were the days he would drop Maria and Annette at their 4pm college course on his way to work. Evening classes were teaching his little sister the responsibility of time management and Richter enjoyed teasing her with Annette.

For an entire semester the three of them spent more time in Richter’s car trading music, discussing life and just being all around goofy than they spent anywhere else.

He’d come out of the daily experience with a massive crush, much to Maria’s delight, and a need to spend every single day of the rest of his life with Annette.

She was a goddess to him, her rich brown skin always glimmering like fine sand and her gorgeous thick hair a halo above her perfect face.

From the bottom of his soul, Richter loved Annette.

His thoughts are broken by the change in her breathing, her back stuttering against his chest as she emerges from sleep slowly.

Richter nuzzles her neck, kissing slowly along her shoulder line before biting the round curve gently. Annette’s hands blindly reach for his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing in appreciation when his thumb continues its rhythm on her thigh.

“Good morning.” He murmurs.

“Hi,” Annette smiles, “someone’s up early.”

“Your birthday gift was treating me like an ant.” He quips, chuckling at the confusion that wrinkles her brow as her still sleep brain struggles to make sense of his words.

“I did tell you that hanging it there would be hazardous.” She murmurs, turning her face towards the pillow.

She had told him, but Richter chuckles against her soft skin and bites it gently when her hips push back ever so slightly. Warmth spreads through his chest, his spine tingling when Annette slowly starts grinding back. Her movement gradually growing bolder each time he ticks his own hips up to meet hers on the roll back.

“Richter,” she murmurs, her pearly white teeth digging in her bottom lip and plumping the flesh.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing one of her sweet spots behind her ear. His hand on her thigh begins to knead the flesh, fingers clutching hard enough to leave marks.

“I—I love you too.” Annette whimpers, lifting her hips when he starts to tug at the waistline of her black panties.

Richter dips his hand down, pushing his knuckles past her panty line and brushing his fingers through the damp curls they never tire of finding between their thighs.

His other hand skims and squeezes her breasts through her shirt, pinching at her nipples and tugging them each time the fingers between her thighs swipe down her pussy lips.

Annette sighs and whimpers, hiding her face in an attempt to muffle the steady rise in her voice. Richter nips at her jawline, his voice rough as he whispers into the skin,

“Don’t hide from me, baby, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

He taps one finger on her hot clit, rocking his hips up against hers and stroking a second finger through her slick lower lips. Annette arches into him, shoving the skin he’s playing like an instrument into his welcoming talented hands.

She reaches back blindly, her hands shoving at the boxers he’d worn to bed last night. Richter helps her pull them down his thighs, leaving the material bunched just above his knees.

Richter’s cock is long, thick and painfully hard by now so he can’t help the shaky moan that escapes his throat when Annette’s pretty fingers wrap around the shaft. She strokes him twice, her hand holding him lightly so she can twist her wrist on the way down before she runs the sensitive head over her hip and the lace of her panties.

“Annette.” Richter growls.

He dips his fingers down to her soaking opening, circling it as he places his mouth next to her ear and whispers filthily,

“So small, don’t know if I’ll be able to fit, Princess.”

Annette jerks, the moan that leaves her mouth primal and she lifts her leg in invitation. Richter tugs her panties to the side, wanting to watch his cock slide not only in and out of Annette but leave a mess on the black fabric as well.

She shivers when he hooks one arm under the back of her knee and tugs her legs open wide, her small hand guides his cock towards her hole; helping him nestle the head there and Richter bites at her earlobe.

“You gonna breathe deep like I taught you baby?” He asks, chuckling at her immediately nod of response.

Richter squeezes his hips forward, once, twice, three times and then on the fourth lets the flex glide into a full thrust. Sliding all the way in until the head of his cock meets the opening of her cervix.

“R-Richter.” Annette clenches around him, her nails digging into his hip as she scrambles for something to hold onto.

“What do you need Princess?” He asks sweetly, his tongue flicking at the shell of her ear.

“Need….nmph…need you to….fuck! I need you to fuck me.” Annette cries out, the words tripping over her tongue. “Please, fill me up Richter!”

He grins into the curve of her neck, nose brushing her earlobe as he growls and locks his hand into the crook of her bent knee; letting go of the last bit of his control now that he has her permission.

The first couple of thrusts give Richter the chance to set a brutal pace, jerking Annette back onto his cock hard enough that the bed creaks dangerously beneath them.

Richter fucks into Annette hard and deep, her moans and pleas urging him to use her as he saw fit. The head of his cock finds the sensitive sponge like space inside of her on a particularly hard thrust and Annette shrieks.

Her orgasm rippled through her body like water, cum gushing around Richter’s cock and effectively dragging him down with her. He stiffens, erratically slamming deep inside of Annette as thick, hot cum paints her core and inner walls. His vision blurs out, his grip on her tightening as they shudder through aftershocks together.

They stay straining against one each other for a long moment, only relaxing when Annette’s body collapses. The only sounds being their huffs of exhaustion for several minutes until the clock at the end of the hall chimes eight times.

“We should go back to sleep.” Annette murmurs, her body already sagging backwards slumber.

Richter chuckles, agreeing with a kiss to her temple. He starts to shift away from her, but her dark slender hand shoots back and grips at his hip in desperation.

“No, don’t.” She whines quietly. “Stay right here.”

Richter laughs, his face and ears heating up as he settles back into the mattress. Annette pulls her thick comforter back over them, sighing contently as she wiggles to find the most comfortable spot.

She interlaces their fingers, resting their hands against her stomach as she says,

“I love you Richter, you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known.”

He kisses her cheek when she finally does settle, brushing his lips along her jaw as he whispers,

“I can’t believe you’re real.”

She looks at him over her shoulder, an embarrassed but pleased smile on her lips.

“That’s the best way you’ve said it back yet.”

He watches her drift back to sleep, truly mesmerized by her beautiful face and the fact that she wants anything at all to do with him; let alone share the most intimate parts of her with him.

Richter burrows into her neck, content to shut out the rest of the world forever if it meant he could stay connected to Annette and be the only person to know the face she makes when she comes apart.

The End

As always, thanks for reading! I hope y’all liked it. Like, reblog, tell me what you think! 🤟🏾

[rylem33]

A Good Person -- Ending #3: The Bimbo Wife

I asked you all for ideas on endings to my story "A Good Person" and you came through. Here's the third one, requested by @gokaimaster. "He turns her into the perfect bimbo wife for Scott who leaves all the thinking and suggestions to him while she waits on Scott hand and foot." Here's a link to the original story in case you need it: https://www.tumblr.com/rylem33/773678228559872000/a-good-person?source=share

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

Scott’s fists clenched, his voice shaking with desperation. “What do you mean, collect?”

The Devil smiled slyly, stepping forward with an air of confidence. “Oh, Scott, it’s quite simple. Maggie made her choices, and now I fulfill my end of the deal. Your health is restored, your bills are gone, and as for Maggie…”

He turned his gaze to Maggie, who stared back in frozen silence. “Let’s just say I’ll give her exactly what she wanted.”

The room trembled as waves of energy radiated outward from Maggie. She gasped, her body glowing faintly as the transformation began.

Maggie clutched her head, her platinum blonde hair growing impossibly long and thick, cascading down in glossy, voluminous waves. Her face softened, her cheekbones more pronounced, her lips swelling into a perfect pout as though begging for attention.

Her figure morphed before Scott’s eyes, her waist narrowing to an extreme hourglass shape while her breasts swelled larger, straining against her modest hiking outfit until it shifted entirely. The fabric shimmered, reforming into a tiny, white satin crop top trimmed with lace, barely able to contain her. Her leggings twisted into black, lacy lingerie paired with garter belts and sheer stockings that accentuated her toned thighs.

Scott’s jaw dropped as Maggie twirled in place, her movements languid and sensual, the glow fading to reveal her transformed self. She blinked slowly, her blue eyes wide and glassy, her pouty lips parting as she turned to Scott.

“Scotty, baby,” she cooed, her voice soft and high-pitched. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sooo sorry if I did!” She tilted her head, twirling a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers, her expression a mix of confusion and adoration.

Scott stepped back, his heart racing as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. “Maggie… what…?”

The Devil laughed, folding his hands behind his back. “She’s perfect now, Scott. A wife who lives to serve you, who leaves all the hard thinking and decisions to her capable husband.” He smirked. “Someone who’ll never argue, never complain, never resist.”

Maggie’s pout deepened as she stepped toward Scott, her hips swaying hypnotically. She placed her manicured hands delicately on his chest. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore! I’ll be such a good girl for you, I promise!”

Scott stared at her, speechless. His mind raced with conflicting emotions. This wasn’t Maggie…not the woman he’d married, not the woman he loved…but the sheer devotion in her eyes and the way she clung to him made it impossible to pull away.

She beamed when he didn’t respond, taking his silence as approval. “Oh, yay! I’m gonna make you soooo happy, Scotty!” She turned, glancing around the room. “Do you want me to clean up? Or make you dinner? Or… maybe I should try on some outfits and show you how pretty I can be for you!”

“Maggie…” Scott started, his voice low.

“Yes, baby?” she asked eagerly, her glassy blue eyes lighting up as though his voice alone was enough to thrill her.

“You don’t have to…”

“Oh, but I want to!” she interrupted, giggling. “I just wanna make you happy!” She paused, tilting her head adorably. “You’re the smart one, baby. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it!”

The Devil watched the scene with satisfaction, his smile widening. “A deal is a deal, Scott. She wanted everything to be perfect. And now… it is.”

Scott’s chest tightened as Maggie began flitting around the room, tidying up while humming a bubbly tune. Her movements were graceful, her expression carefree, and she looked back at him constantly for approval, her wide eyes shining with devotion.

“Does this make you happy, Scotty?” she asked, holding up her phone to snap a selfie, puckering her glossy lips. “Oh! Or maybe we can take one together! Couple goals, right?”

Scott struggled to respond, his throat dry. “Maggie… you don’t need to do all this.”

Her giggle was light and airy as she sauntered back to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Of course I do, silly! It’s my job to take care of my amazing husband.” She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And if there’s anything else you want, you just have to ask…”

She pressed herself closer to him, her lips brushing his ear, a part of him couldn’t resist the allure of her new form. Scott’s hands trembled as they hovered over her waist, the reality sinking in. She was beautiful, flawless, and utterly devoted, but she wasn’t Maggie. Not the woman who had stood by his side through their struggles, the woman he’d loved for her strength and heart.

The Devil stepped toward the door, his grin sharp and knowing. “Enjoy her, Scott,” he said with a bow. 

As the door shut behind him, Scott looked into Maggie’s sparkling eyes. She tilted her head, waiting for his next command.

“So, what’s next, baby?” she asked sweetly, running a finger along his jawline. “Whatever you want, just say it. I’m all yours.”

Scott swallowed hard. “I… don’t know.”

Maggie giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That’s okay, Scotty. You think, I’ll wait. That’s what I’m good at!”

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - part two

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

part one

Word count: 7k

Warnings: the usual angst and fluff, mentions of death

Masterlist

“Okay, so, how are we doing this?” Wanda asks, standing in the doorway of your room with her arms crossed, a playful grin on her face. “Are we going for casual chic or full-on ‘look what you’re missing out on’ vibes?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you fold a sweater and set it in your suitcase. “Wanda, it’s not like that. It’s just a trip to Brooklyn. He invited me so I’m going.”

“Uh-huh,” she teases, stepping into the room and rifling through the stack of clothes on your bed. “You haven’t even told him you’re coming. This isn’t just a trip—it’s a whole moment. You’ve got to be prepared.” She holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow. “This? Too much?”

You glance at the dress, biting your lip. “Maybe a little. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Wanda tosses the dress onto a chair and picks up a pair of jeans instead. “Fine, but you should pack at least one outfit that makes you feel amazing. You know, for the moment when you show up and his brain short-circuits because you’re there.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Sure, it’s not,” she says, grinning. “But come on, you’re not even telling him? You’re just gonna show up at the airport and be like, ‘Hey, surprise, I made it’? Bold move.”

“I just… I don’t want to make it easy for him,” you admit, tucking a pair of boots into the side of the suitcase. “He sent the ticket, so I want to see his reaction. I don’t know, it just feels... more exciting this way.”

Wanda stops sorting through your clothes and gives you a knowing look. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course, I’m nervous,” you confess, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What if it’s weird? What if he regrets inviting me?”

“Not a chance,” she says, plopping down next to you. “This guy has been sending you letters, phone calls, and plane tickets. Trust me, he’s going to be thrilled. And you’re going to have the best time.”

You smile at her, feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says, standing up and tossing another sweater into your suitcase. “Now, let’s make sure you’re packed and ready to knock his socks off.”

Bucky sits on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, willing it to buzz with a message from you.

Sam walks in from the kitchen, a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Alright, what’s up? You’ve been in that same position all morning. Did something happen?”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent her a plane ticket.”

Sam stops mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Wait. You did what?”

“I sent her a ticket to come to Brooklyn,” Bucky says, sitting back and crossing his arms. “She mentioned her fall break was coming up, and... I don’t know, it just felt like the right time.”

“Man, that’s bold. I like it. But judging by the look on your face, you haven’t heard back yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing. I thought maybe she’d at least send a text or something. Now I’m thinking I overstepped.”

“Bucky, relax,” Sam says, sitting down across from him. “She’s probably just processing. You’ve been talking for months, right? She wouldn’t just ghost you over this.”

“What if I freaked her out?” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his hair. “What if it was too much?”

“Dude,” Sam says, leaning forward. “She’s been sending you letters, talking to you on the phone, sharing all this personal stuff. If anything, she’s probably just as nervous as you are. Give her time.”

Bucky nods slowly but doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“And in the meantime,” Sam adds, standing up and patting Bucky on the shoulder, “you should probably start getting this place ready. If she does decide to come, you don’t want her walking into this disaster zone.”

The guest room hasn’t been used in months but Bucky spends the whole week cleaning it out. He dusts off the shelves, changes the bedding, and even picks up a small plant from the store to set on the nightstand.

He moves through the rest of the apartment with the same energy, scrubbing the counters, vacuuming the rug, and organizing the books and papers that have been piling up on the coffee table. Every so often, he glances at his phone, hoping for a message from you.

When Sam walks back in later that night, he whistles, looking around the spotless living room. “Wow, you really went all out. This place actually looks... livable.”

Bucky smirks, tossing the cleaning rag onto the counter. “Hopefully not all for nothing.”

“She’s gonna show up,” Sam says confidently, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “And when she does, you’re gonna be glad you went for it.”

Bucky leans against the counter, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. “Yeah. I hope so.”

But as the night before your flight is scheduled to arrive wears on and the silence stretches, he can’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. 

The airport is buzzing with life—announcements echoing overhead, the sound of luggage wheels, and the chatter of travelers all around. Your heart races as you weave through the crowd, gripping the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Every step closer to the arrival gate feels surreal, like walking into a dream you’ve been building piece by piece for months.

You haven’t seen a picture of him, and the mystery somehow makes this moment feel bigger. As you turn the corner to the gate, your eyes sweep the area—and then you see him.

Bucky’s standing a few feet away, holding a small sign with your name on it, the letters scrawled in his handwriting. In his other hand is a bouquet of lilies, slightly rumpled, as though he’s been gripping them a little too hard. He’s shifting his weight nervously, his head turning every time someone walks past.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s taller than you imagined, with broad shoulders and a scruffy jawline. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes.

You take a deep breath and step forward, your legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. As you approach, his eyes finally land on you—and something shifts. His body stiffens slightly, like he’s bracing himself, but then his gaze softens. You smile first and his lips curve into a nervous but genuine grin.

“Hi,” you say, your voice a little breathless as you stop in front of him.

Bucky blinks, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s not sure what to say. “You’re… here,” he finally manages.

“I wanted to keep it a surprise. Did it work?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, it definitely worked.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both stand there, staring at each other, the chaos of the airport fading into the background. His free hand brushes the back of his neck, a nervous gesture, and he holds out the flowers awkwardly. “Uh… these are for you.”

Your smile widens as you take them. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” he blurts out, then immediately flushes, looking away from your face and toward the ground.

You laugh, cheeks heating up from his admission. “You’re exactly how I pictured you,” you say, cutting off his rambling. “Maybe even better.”

He glances back at you, his smile a little shyer. “I could say the same.” Bucky shifts, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the exit. “Let me grab that for you.” He takes your luggage and leads you toward the exit. 

Once you make it to his car, he opens your door and you thank him softly. He packs your luggage in and starts the drive to his apartment. 

“I hope you’re okay with staying at mine. I have the guest room and Sam comes and goes all the time. I should warn you about him though. He’s excited to meet you.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” you say, glancing at him. “Your letters made it sound like your place has character. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to meet the infamous Sam.”

Bucky laughs, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sam’s loud, charming, and impossible to ignore.”

You smile, resting your head back against the seat. “Sounds like the complete opposite of you.”

He glances at you briefly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad,” you reply quickly, your tone light. “Just… you’re more calm. Steady. I can tell already.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips as he focuses on the road. After a moment, he asks, “What about you? Any quirks I should prepare for?”

You hum, pretending to think it over. “Well, I sing along to music—badly, I might add—especially when I’m nervous. So if I break out into a Taylor Swift song, just ignore me.”

Bucky chuckles, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to test that theory later.”

The conversation flows easily after that, the nervous energy from earlier dissolves. He points out little landmarks as you drive through Brooklyn, like the park where he likes to run or the coffee shop he swears has the best bagels in the city. Each detail is another piece of his world unfolding in front of you, and you find yourself smiling more than you thought possible.

When you finally pull up in front of his apartment building, Bucky turns off the car and glances at you. “Ready?”

You nod, clutching the bouquet a little tighter. 

He steps out and grabs your bag from the trunk before leading you inside. The building has a quiet charm—slightly worn but full of character. As you climb the stairs, he pauses in front of the door, turning to you with a small, crooked smile.

“Just… don’t judge me too harshly, okay? I cleaned, but, you know… it’s still a bachelor pad.”

You laugh softly. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

With that, he opens the door, and you step inside. The apartment is cozy and lived-in, with mismatched furniture. A stack of textbooks sits on the coffee table next to an empty mug, and a faded poster of a Brooklyn landmark hangs on the wall.

Before Bucky can say anything else, a voice calls out from the kitchen. “Bucky! Is that Y/N?!”

You glance toward the doorway, where a tall, grinning man appears, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“And that,” Bucky mutters under his breath, “is Sam.”

Sam strides over, his grin widening as he takes you in. “Well, well, so you’re the mystery pen pal. Welcome to Brooklyn!”

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through you at the easy, welcoming energy from Sam. “Thanks. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Sam says, shooting Bucky a teasing look. “This guy’s been a nervous wreck all week. You’re even better in person, though. He did not oversell you.”

Bucky groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Sam, I swear to—”

You cut in with a laugh, holding up a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Sam grins, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it was. You two have fun—I’m heading out, but don’t worry, I’ll interrogate you properly later.”

With that, he grabs his keys and leaves, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

Bucky clears his throat, looking sheepish. “Sorry about him. He’s a lot.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I like him. He’s… fun.”

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky hesitates, then gestures toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I figured I could cook, or we could order something. Your call.”

“Cooking sounds good,” you respond, following him and find a stool at the countertop and you sit down. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The morning comes quietly with sunlight slipping through the cracks of the blinds. You stir in the unfamiliar bed of the guest room, the faint hum of city noise filtering in through the window. For a moment, you forget where you are. But then it clicks—you’re in Brooklyn. In Bucky’s apartment.

A smile tugs at your lips as you stretch, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. You pull on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and pad out of the guest room. The living room is quiet, the soft sound of a spoon clinking against a mug drawing you toward the kitchen.

There he is.

Bucky’s standing at the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs, his hair still messy from sleep. He’s wearing a worn hoodie and plaid pajama pants, and you notice the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. He glances up when he hears your footsteps, his face breaking into a welcoming smile.

“Morning,” he rasps.

“Morning,” your smile mirroring his.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up yet,” he holds up the second mug. “Coffee?”

“Always,” you say, stepping closer to take it from him. The warmth of the mug seeps into your hands as you inhale the rich smell.

He leans against the counter, his fingers wrapped around his own mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Better than I thought I would,” you admit, taking a sip. “Your guest room is surprisingly cozy.”

Bucky chuckles, looking a little relieved. “Good. I was worried it’d be too… I don’t know, plain.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting your mug down on the counter. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re here.” There’s a pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. 

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “What's the plan for today? You did send me a whole map, after all.”

“Yeah, I might’ve gone overboard with that.”

“No way,” you say, shaking your head. “I loved it. But I’m leaving the itinerary up to you, tour guide.”

“Alright,” he says, a spark of excitement creeping into his voice. “We’ll start easy. Breakfast at my favorite coffee shop. Then maybe we’ll walk around Prospect Park. Unless…” He hesitates, his brows furrowing slightly. “Unless you’d rather take it slow today?”

“Hmm… breakfast sounds good. But don’t go easy on me, Barnes. I didn’t come all the way to Brooklyn to take it slow.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” With that, he backs away, walking toward his room. “Take your time getting ready. Meet you back out here in a few.” 

“Deal,” you say, watching as he disappears.

As you head back to the guest room to change, you can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation buzzing in your chest. Excited for the day ahead. 

The coffee shop is tucked away on a quiet side street downtown, its brick exterior softened by a canopy of ivy. A small chalkboard sign leans against the brick, announcing the specials of the day in cursive writing. Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a soft strum of a guitar from the speakers overhead, capture your senses. 

“This is it,” Bucky says as he holds the door open for you. “This place has been here forever. My mom used to bring me and my sister here when we were kids while she did some work. They have the best coffee and muffins. No contest.”

Your eyes wander over the mismatched furniture and the worn wooden floor. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and every surface seems to hold charm—a vintage typewriter on a side table, a collection of postcards pinned to a corkboard near the counter, and fairy lights strung along the windows. 

“It’s perfect,” your voice soft as you take it all in.

Bucky leads you to a small table near the corner, where the sunlight filters through the window. 

“That’s where my mom used to sit,” he says, pointing to another table in the furthest corner. “She’d order the same thing every time—a black coffee and one of those cranberry scones they still make. She used to sit there with her sketchbook and just draw for hours.”

“You never told me your mom was an artist,” you add, leaning your head on your head, catching his eyes.

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She wasn’t, like, a professional or anything. But she loved it. Said it was her way of keeping sane while raising me and my sister.” His expression softens as he glances toward the counter. “She passed away a few years ago. I think that’s why I come here so much now—it reminds me of her.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” without much thought, your hand brushes against his on the table.

He looks down at where your fingers briefly touch before meeting your gaze again. “Thanks. She was… incredible. The kind of person who could see the beauty in anything. I think that’s why I like this place and Brooklyn so much. It’s where I felt closest to her, you know?”

You nod, glancing around again, this time with a deeper appreciation. “It’s like a piece of her is still here.”

“Exactly,” his voice is quieter now. After a beat, he leans back, trying to shift the mood. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s your order?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having is perfect,” you reply, smiling as he gets up to place the order. Watching him at the counter, you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest. It’s clear this place isn’t just a coffee shop to him—it’s a connection to his past, to his family, and to a part of himself he’s letting you see.

When he returns with two steaming mugs and a plate of two muffins, one chocolate chip and one blueberry, he sits down with a grin. “Alright, no pressure. I hope you like their coffee. If not, I might have to rethink everything.”

You laugh, taking a sip, and the warmth of the drink feels like an embrace on this cold, fall day. “Hazelnut. My favorite.”

Bucky’s grin widens as he picks up his own mug, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip. “I remember you said that’s your favorite flavor. The candle you mentioned in one of your letters.” He glances at the muffins between you. “And blueberries, you said that’s your favorite fruit.”

Your heart flutters at his thoughtfulness. “You actually remembered that?” 

Bucky shrugs with a sheepish smile, his eyes flicking down to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “Of course, I did. I like knowing the little things about people.”

For a moment, you’re speechless, warmth spreading through your chest. You tear off a piece of the blueberry muffin and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness mingle with the hazelnut coffee. “Okay, you’re officially right. This muffin is incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Told you. This place never disappoints.”

A few moments pass then Bucky glances toward the postcards pinned on the corkboard near the counter. “See those over there?” he points with his mug. “Customers leave those from all over the world. It started when the owners traveled to Europe and brought back a stack of postcards to decorate the place. Then people just started adding their own.”

“That’s amazing,” you crane your neck to get a better look. “Do you have one up there?”

“Yeah, from Coney Island. I left it there the day I moved out of my parents’ house. It felt… symbolic, you know? Like I was saying goodbye to one chapter and starting a new one.”

You sip your coffee, taking in the sentimental layers of this cozy shop. “Do you ever think about leaving Brooklyn?”

Bucky shakes his head immediately. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to live somewhere else, but Brooklyn’s always been home. It’s where my family is from, where all my memories are. I think I’m afraid if I leave, I’d lose that connection.”

You take another sip of coffee, letting his words settle in. “I get that. I’ve moved around so much that I don’t think I’ve ever really had a place that felt like home. I’ve lived in Oregon my whole life but never in one place for a long time. It must be nice to have a town you’re so familiar with and never want to leave.”

“It is,” Bucky admits. “But I think home isn’t always a place. It’s more about the people, the memories. Even if you don’t stay in one spot, you carry that with you.”

You smile, touched by the honesty in his words. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

Bucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table as his gaze locks onto yours. “Maybe this can feel like a little piece of home for you while you’re here. You know, if you let it.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his tone, and you find yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think it already does.”

After a while, Bucky leans back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of his mug. “You know, this place isn’t just about my mom. It’s kind of where everything clicked for me, too.”

“Clicked?” you rest your chin on your hand.

“Yeah, I used to come here after school when I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. For a while, it felt like everyone else had it all figured out, and I was just… stuck. My mom used to say, ‘Bucky, just sit still for a while. You can’t hear yourself think if you’re always running.’ So I’d come here, sit in that corner booth, and just… exist for a bit.”

“That’s when you decided on kinesiology?” you question, not wanting to disrupt his train of thought.

“Kind of. It started with me just doodling on napkins and people-watching. But then I started noticing patterns—how people moved, how they carried themselves. I realized I was fascinated by it, how the human body works and all the little ways it can go wrong or heal itself. It felt like a puzzle I wanted to figure out.” He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Don’t be,” your voice earnestly. “I like hearing you talk about it. It’s… grounding. Like I’m seeing this part of you.”

His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the coffee shop and its patrons seem to fade away. “You’re good at that, you know,” he whispers.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like it’s okay to share this stuff. I don’t do that much, but with you…” He trails off, his lips twitching into a small, almost self-conscious smile.

You smile back. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you break off another piece of muffin and toss it into your mouth. “So you better get used to it.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you tease, taking another sip of the hazelnut coffee.

The crisp autumn air fills your lungs as you settle onto a hill beside Bucky, the grass cool beneath you. The pond below reflects the fiery colors of the trees, rippling gently as ducks glide across its surface. A group of kids toss breadcrumbs from the edge, their laughter carrying up the hill.

“I can see why you like it here,” you pull your knees close to your chest. “It’s peaceful.”

Bucky leans back on his hands and tilts his head up toward the sky. “Yeah, exactly. It’s like… no matter what’s going on, I can come here, and it just makes things feel smaller. In a good way.”

You glance over at him, noticing the way his features soften in the sunlight. “Did you come here a lot growing up?”

“Not as much as I wanted to,” he admits, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We didn’t live super close, and there wasn’t always time. But when I got older, I started making excuses to come out here. Even if it was just to sit and think. Especially after…” his gaze drops to the ground for a moment.

“After your mom?” 

He nods, his voice quieter now. “Yeah. She loved nature. Said it was the best place to find clarity. I think I started coming here to feel closer to her.”

Your chest tightens at his raw honesty. It’s sort of a different feeling from reading his letters about these kinds of emotions then hearing him speak about them in person. He never shared the details of his mom before so it’s striking to hear his voice waver slightly as he talks about her. “I think she’d love that you still find peace here.”

Bucky smiles at that, his gaze lifting to meet yours. “I hope so.” After a beat, he clears his throat and straightens up, as if brushing off the weight of the moment. “What about you? Is there a place back in Oregon that feels like this for you? Other than that cliffside you sent me.”

You consider it, brushing a stray leaf from your sleeve. “There’s this trail near my campus that I like. It’s not big or fancy, but there’s a bench at a secluded spot near the end of a row of trees lining the trail. I’d sit there with my notebook, trying to write something meaningful but usually just people watch as they walk by.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners and you make a mental note of that part of him. “Bet you came up with some good stories doing that.”

“Some,” you admit with a grin. “But mostly I just liked imagining what their lives were like. Where they were going, what they were thinking. I guess it’s my way of trying to understand people.”

Bucky looks at you for a long moment. “You’re good at that too.”

“What?”

“Understanding people. Seeing them for who they are or at least appear to be.” His gaze flickers to the pond, as if he’s said too much. “It’s rare. Most people don’t pay attention like that.”

The sincerity in his tone warms you more than the sunlight ever could. “I guess it takes one to know one,” you reply, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

He laughs, the sound low and easy. “Maybe.”

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park filling the space between you. When a breeze sweeps through, scattering leaves in your direction, you catch one midair and hold it up.

“Think it’s a sign?” you ask playfully.

Bucky leans closer to inspect the leaf, his expression mock-serious. “Definitely. It means we should grab hot chocolate before heading to the next stop on the map.”

You laugh, standing and brushing grass from your jeans. “I like the way you think.”

He grins, rising to his feet and stretching. “Good. Because the next place is even better.”

As you walk back toward the park’s entrance, Bucky falls into step beside you, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. You don’t need to ask where you’re headed next. Wherever it is, you know it’ll be just as special as this moment—because it’s with him.

The record store feels like stepping into another world—warm and intimate with nostalgia. The scent of aged vinyl wraps around the faint sound of a jazz record spinning in the background. The dim lighting gives the space a cozy glow, and the mismatched rugs scattered across the floor muffle your footsteps as you follow Bucky down one of the narrow aisles.

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection,” you comment on his records displayed at his apartment. “Do you come here a lot?”

“More than I probably should,” he admits, chuckling. “But hey, I’m a firm believer that you can never have too much music.”

You agree, letting your fingers skim over the spines of the records. Each one holding its own piece of history. When Bucky stops abruptly, you turn to see him pulling a record from the shelf, his expression lighting up like he’s just stumbled on buried treasure.

“This one,” he holds it for you to see. “My mom used to play this album all the time when we were kids. Sunday mornings, she’d put it on while making breakfast.”

You take the record carefully, tracing your thumb along the edge. “It’s like you’ve got a little piece of her right here.”

His gaze softens as he looks at the album. “Yeah. It’s funny how music does that—brings back moments you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten.”

You glance toward the corner of the store, where a small listening booth is tucked away. “Should we give it a spin?”

Bucky grins, his eyes lighting up. “Absolutely.”

He leads the way to the booth, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside first. It’s a snug space, barely big enough for the two of you. You put on a pair of headphones, handing Bucky the other pair. He carefully places the record on the turntable. There’s a small crackle as the needle drops, and then your ears are filled with the warm, soulful sound of the opening track.

As the music swells, Bucky leans back against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “She used to sing along to this one,” he remembers fondly. “Completely off-key, but she didn’t care. My sister and I would always roll our eyes, but now? I’d give anything to hear it again.”

You admire him as his eyes close and he mouths along to the lyrics. “Sounds like she had a lot of heart. And a lot of confidence.”

“She did,” his gaze is distant for a moment before it flickers back to you. “What about you? Any music your family used to play that stuck with you?”

You think for a moment, the jazzy melody filling the silence. “My dad used to play a lot of Johnny Cash. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now, whenever I hear it, it feels comforting. Funny how the things you don’t pay attention to at the time end up meaning the most later.”

“Guess that’s the magic of music.” 

As the song transitions to the next track, you glance at him. “You should sing along. For old time’s sake.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, no. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Come on,” you tease. “I won’t judge. Much.”

He smirks, but as the chorus picks up, he hums along quietly, his voice low and a little raspy. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of feeling, and you find yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“See? Not so bad,” you stare when he trails off, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. 

The two of you stand there for a while, the music wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a small moment, your eyes occasionally flutter to each other. When the album ends, Bucky carefully removes the record and slides it back into its sleeve.

“I think you should have this,” he holds it out to you.

“What? No, I can’t—this is your memory,” you protest.

He shakes his head, his gaze steady. “And now it’s ours. Besides, I’ve got plenty of memories of this place. This can be your first one.”

You take the record, your fingers brushing his briefly. “Thank you, Bucky. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” he says with a soft smile.

As you leave the shop together, the record tucked securely under your arm, you can’t help but feel like the music isn’t the only thing weaving its way into your heart.

The lights of Manhattan glimmer across the water as you walk along the Brooklyn Promenade, the noise of the city providing a comforting background to your conversation. Bucky leans against the railing. “So,” he breaks the comfortable silence, “How were finals?” 

You let out a small laugh, leaning your chin on your hand as you glance at him. “It was a lot. But I guess it was worth the chaos and sleepless nights.”

“Sleepless nights? I feel like those are just part of the college experience at this point. Let me guess—you pulled an all-nighter for a final project?”

“Guilty. My last paper was due for my literature class, and, of course, I couldn’t stop tweaking it until the last possible second. It’s always the same—I get an idea, and suddenly, I’m rewriting half of it.”

He tilts his head. “What was the paper about?”

“It was a character study on how grief shapes identity in modern fiction,” you explain. “It was personal, so I think that’s why I got so caught up in it.”

Bucky’s expression shifts as his gaze lingers on you. “Sounds like you put a lot of heart into it. Do you feel good about how it turned out?”

You exhale a small laugh. “I think so. My professor will probably tell me I overanalyzed it, but… yeah, it felt like something I needed to write.”

He leans his forearms on the railing, looking over at you thoughtfully. “Sometimes you just have to let it out, no matter how hard it is. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

You turn toward him, resting your elbow on the railing, your faces closer than you realize. “You must feel that way about kinesiology? How it’s become so personal to you.”

Bucky hesitates, his gaze briefly shifting to the skyline then back on you. “Yeah, I guess it does. After… everything that happened with my family, I wanted to understand how people recover. Physically, mentally, all of it. It’s not just about fixing what’s broken—it’s about finding strength in the process.”

“That’s… really brave, Bucky. To take something painful and turn it into something that helps others.”

He shrugs, but his blue eyes soften as they meet yours. “It’s not as noble as it sounds. Half the time, I feel like I’m fumbling through it. Anatomy, biomechanics—it’s a lot to learn.”

You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Says the guy who casually runs marathons for fun. If you can do that, I’m sure you’ve got biomechanics figured out.”

His laugh is warm, easy sounding, that makes you smile wider. “Running’s just putting one foot in front of the other. You’re the one writing deep papers about grief, love and life. Don’t ask me to do that—I’d be lost after the first paragraph.”

“Fair enough,” you nudge his arm gently with your elbow. “But still, kinesiology suits you. You’ve got that whole ‘helping people’ vibe. Even if you try to hide it under the grumpy exterior.”

“Grumpy?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

“Hey!” you protest jokingly punching his arm softly. “I’m not grumpy. I’m selectively friendly.”

Bucky shakes his head and smiles as he stands up fully. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

You both have unconsciously drifted closer, shoulders brushing as your bodies lean against the railing. The city lights dance on the water but the moment feels far more intimate than the bustling backdrop.

“So, tell me more about Sam. He seems like a fun character to have around.” you add. 

He chuckles softly. “Sam. He’s a pain in my ass, but he’s the best. Always has my back, even when he’s giving me crap about, well, everything.”

“He sounds like a good guy. Is he always so… persuasive?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t take no for an answer. But he’s loyal. He’s been through a lot too, so I think that’s why we get each other.”

You catch the shift in his tone, the hint of something deeper, but you don’t want to push him to open up more. “My best friend’s kind of the same. Wanda, she’s loyal too. When we met, it was kind of like this, an instant connection. Like we knew each other from a past life or something.” 

“Sounds like she’s good for you. Someone who keeps you grounded.”

“She’s the kind of person who always knows when something’s wrong, even when I don’t say a word. Sam seems like that too, from what you’ve said.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers on you. “Yeah, It’s good to have someone like that. Someone who understands without you having to explain.”

You nod in agreement, eyes locked in with his. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without her. When things were rough at home, she was the one who reminded me I wasn’t alone. She’s like a sister to me, really.”

He leans a little closer, his shoulder pressing gently into yours. “Sounds like you’ve got a ride-or-die. Everyone needs one of those.”

“Yeah, she’s my constant,” you welcome his touch, leaning some of your weight against him too. “What about you? Besides Sam, do you have anyone else like that?”

“Probably my sister. Rebecca. She’s younger than me, but she always acts like the older sibling. After our mom passed, we leaned on each other a lot. She’s tough, but she’s got this soft spot when it comes to family. She’s in her junior year of high school, so still at home with our dad.” 

“She sounds amazing,” you state. “I wish I had a sibling to lean on like that.”

“She is,” his voice carries a warmth that matches his words. “She’d love to talk your ear off. She’s always been better at talking to people than me.”

You giggle, turning your head to look up at him. You can’t help but want to push the few strands of hair out of his eyes but you don’t feel brave enough. “I don’t know, you’re doing pretty well right now.”

“Guess I’m getting better at it.” His eyes meet yours, silence spreading between you as you get lost in each other's eyes. 

“Funny how life works,” you add quietly. “How people come into your life when you need them most, even if you don’t realize it at first.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes glancing at your lips for half a second. He clears his throat and moves his gaze to the sky, trying to hide the heat that rushes to his cheeks. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected people who make the biggest difference.”

For a moment, the space between you feels smaller than ever. Neither of you says anything, just enjoying the closeness of each other. You glance at his side profile, watching the way the city lights reflect in his pale blue eyes. 

Without realizing it, your hand inches closer to his by your side, your fingers brushing lightly. The contact sends a spark through you, but neither of you pulls away. Instead, Bucky’s hand shifts slightly, his pinky hooking gently around yours. 

In that moment, standing side by side with the city stretching out before you, it feels like the start of something you both have been craving for. 

On the way back to his apartment, Bucky pulls you toward a food truck parked on the corner. “Best late-night falafel in the city,” he promises, handing you a napkin as you both stand in line.

The two of you eat as you walk back to his place, walking slowly as Bucky shares his comfort food with you. The falafel is warm and crispy, and you can’t help but laugh when a bit of sauce drips onto your sleeve.

“Told you it was worth it,” Bucky says, grinning but grabs your wrist, wiping the sauce off with his spare napkin.

“I’ll give you this one,” you reply, smirking. “But don’t get used to always being right.”

His laugh echos all around you and it’s becoming your new favorite sound. 

As you both continue walking, the city’s energy buzzes in the background—car horns in the distance and the occasional bark of a dog. Bucky glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his grin still lingering as he tosses the napkin into a nearby trash can.

“You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat falafel with as much enthusiasm as you just did.”

“What can I say? Good food deserves to be appreciated. Besides, you talked it up so much, I had to see if it lived up to the hype.”

“And?” he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s... okay,” you tease, drawing out the last word.

He stops walking, his hand pressing dramatically to his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. “Just ‘okay’? You’re killing me, here.”

You laugh again, stopping to face him. “Fine. It was incredible. Best falafel I’ve ever had. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies, his smirk widening as he circles your arm around his, surprising you but you don’t protest. 

By the time you reach his building, the city feels quieter, the streets less crowded. As you step inside, the warmth of the lobby washes over you. You didn’t realize how much colder the night got with Bucky beside you. 

As you walk up the few flights of stairs, the silence between you is comforting.

As he unlocks the door, he glances back at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for spending the day with me. It was... good.”

“Good?” you echo, raising an eyebrow as you step inside. “I’m pretty sure I made it great.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he closes the door behind you. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

You settle back onto the couch as he heads to the kitchen to grab a couple of waters. When he returns, he hands you a bottle and sinks into the space beside you, the day’s memories hanging between you like a warm blanket.

“You’re not as grumpy as I thought,” you shoot him a teasing glance.

“Selective grumpiness,” he corrects, smirking as he leans back. “You’re just lucky you bring out the better side of me.”

His words, though teasing, carry a sincerity that makes your heart skip. The evening feels like the perfect end to the most perfect day.

Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!

[kwamiwayzz]

Jeckole darkfic after that one ending (Flipside Nicole, not Original/Re-Up Nicole) 

After a failed OD attempt, Jecka ends up waking up in the hospital alone 

Her dad isn’t there, Nicole isn’t there, and everything from the other night hits her like a truck 

She remembers how Nicole screwed her over by shoving her feet in her dad’s mouth and she’s in-between just cutting Nicole off at that point (and her dad), and letting Nicole get away with it 

During her stay at the hospital, she’s embarrassed, betrayed, and most of all, angry. Jecka doesn’t know who to be angry at, though. Nicole? Her dad? Herself, for getting into this mess in the first place? 

The doctors tell her that she’ll be discharged soon, and while she’s about to be ready to get her stuff ready to leave, Nicole shows up. 

Jecka has no idea what to say, and neither does Nicole. She’s thinking about just straight up ignoring her, packing her things, and just walk past her. But Nicole breaks the silence and makes some joke or quip about her staying at the hospital. It’s here that Nicole’s presence actually starts to piss Jecka off.

Nicole tries to slide back into Jecka’s life despite not apologizing or expressing any form of remorse, but Jecka isn’t having it. She tries to pull the “her dad is a pedophile” card by saying that she did Jecka a favor

While Jecka agrees to an extent that her dad sucked as a person, she’s still hesitant on just letting Nicole back in without any consequences 

Jecka tells Nicole to give her space and that maybe she’ll hear from her again (even though Jecka is leaning a bit more towards preserving her mental health by distancing herself from Nicole) 

It doesn’t entirely work, as Nicole would sometimes try to slide back into Jecka’s life again (sits at her front porch, texting her random bullshit, etc.) 

It’s not until Nicole actively gets Jecka’s dad thrown in prison (and on a watch list) by 1) lying about her age so that he becomes a registered sex offender and 2) planting illegal drugs on him so that 

Jecka, still hesitant on letting Nicole back in, decides to continue being friends with her. She did do her a favor, after all. 

Things seem to work out, as if everything has turned back to normal (at least, for Nicole) 

It’s weird and complicated for Jecka. On one hand, she still likes/tolerates being around Nicole, but on the other, she’s slowly giving into her temper and anger issues (learned from by her dad’s abuse)

When she hits Nicole for pissing her off, Jecka feels bad at first, but doesn’t regret it. For once in Jecka’s crumbling life, she feels like she’s in control. And what better way to take her anger out, than to lay it all on someone who screwed her over.

Everything Nicole does just pisses Jecka off even more. She knows that continuing to be around Nicole, especially the shit with her dad, isn’t healthy for her. A normal person would just cut her off. 

Jecka doesn’t want that, though. She wants Nicole to suffer.

The way I couldn't even finish this outline because I had a hard time figuring out how Jecka would have the upper hand while also maintaining that Nicole was going to continue being around her despite the physical abuse.

[elvisbdoll]

“Velvet Chains”

Chapter One

Summary: Velvet Chains follows the intense and dangerous relationship between Camille, a confident and independent woman, and Elvis Presley, a charismatic yet troubled star of the 70s. When Camille enters Elvis’s world, she quickly becomes the object of his obsession. Despite his fame and charm, Elvis’s personality is darkened by mood swings and jealousy, fueled by his reliance on pills. As the two grow closer, Camille finds herself caught in the grip of his possessiveness, torn between her desire for freedom and the undeniable pull of Elvis’s passion.

Pairing: 70s!ElvisXBlack!Oc

Trigger Warnings: Substance Abuse (pills, drugs), Jealousy/Obsessiveness, Emotional Abuse, Manipulative Behavior, Possessiveness, Mood Swings/Anger Issues, Toxic Relationships, Psychological Abuse, Dangerous Obsession, cursing.

Friday, July 11, 1975. Memphis, Tennessee

Camille tugged at the hem of her high-waisted jeans, brushing a few stray threads off her hand-sewn blouse. She stood on the corner of Beale Street, watching the world buzz past her. Memphis in the mid-70s was alive with a gritty charm, a mix of soul, sweat, and dreams. It wasn’t her first choice for a fresh start, but it was hers, and that mattered more than anything.

The humidity hung heavy in the air, clinging to her skin and curling the edges of her natural hair despite the headscarf she’d tied that morning. She didn’t mind. The sticky heat was a reminder that she was alive and carving out her own path. After leaving her small Louisiana town a year ago, Camille had promised herself one thing: she wouldn’t look back.

Her days were simple, predictable. She rose at dawn to the sound of her neighbor’s radio—always set to WDIA, blasting smooth R&B and the occasional gospel track. Her morning ritual was soothing in its routine: brew coffee, nibble on a slice of toast, and take a moment to admire the small patch of sunlight that streamed into her tiny studio apartment. Then it was off to work.

The tailor shop where she worked was tucked between a rundown laundromat and a diner with peeling paint on its windows. Mr. O’Hara, the owner, was an older white man with a cigarette always dangling from his lips. He didn’t say much, but his respect for Camille’s skill was clear. Customers often asked for her by name, praising the delicate stitching of her hems or the way she could make a suit jacket fit like it was meant to be worn.

“You got the hands of an artist,” Mr. O’Hara had said once, and though she didn’t need validation, it had made her chest swell with pride.

Still, there were moments in her quiet days when something inside her itched. It wasn’t loneliness exactly, but a kind of restlessness, like she was waiting for something to happen—though she didn’t know what.

On the other side of Memphis, Elvis Presley sat slumped on the couch in his Graceland living room. The place was immaculate, of course—maids ensured it—but there was a sense of stagnancy about it. The gold and green décor, the garish chandelier, the soundproofed walls—once it had felt like a palace. Now it felt more like a prison.

“Y’know, E, you gotta stop takin’ them pills like candy,” Jerry muttered, leaning against the doorway.

Elvis didn’t even look at him. “Ain’t nobody askin’ for your opinion, Jerry,” he snapped, popping another Quaalude into his mouth and chasing it with a glass of Coke.

Jerry sighed but said nothing else. The Memphis Mafia had learned when to push and when to step back. Lately, the line wasn’t so clear.

Elvis exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch. The pills dulled the edge, but they didn’t kill it. That gnawing feeling inside him, the one that had been growing louder for years—it was still there. He had everything a man could want. Fame, fortune, fans screaming his name at every show. But it didn’t matter. He’d wake up every morning feeling empty, and he’d go to bed every night wondering how much longer he could keep the facade going.

The pills helped. So did the music. But neither could quiet the loneliness that seeped into his bones.

“Maybe we oughta head out tonight,” Jerry offered cautiously. “Could be good to get outta the house.”

Elvis didn’t respond at first. His mind drifted, back to a time when life was simpler. Before the fame, before the pressure, before the expectations. Back when he was just a poor kid in Tupelo with big dreams and a fire in his soul.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

Later that evening, Camille locked up the tailor shop, slipping the key into her purse. The sun had set, but the city was still alive, neon signs flickering in the hazy night. She walked down the street, the sound of music spilling out of the bars and clubs around her.

She wasn’t looking for anything particular—just a place to unwind. She ducked into one of her favorite spots, a small blues club with sticky floors and a crowd that didn’t ask questions. The band on stage was raw and soulful, the kind of music that made your chest ache and your feet move without permission.

At that same moment, a sleek black limo pulled up outside another club across town. Elvis stepped out, his black leather boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his blue eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was sure as hell going to find it.

The band struck the opening chords of a slow, smoky blues tune, and Camille leaned back in her seat, letting the music wash over her. She liked places like this—dimly lit, unpretentious, where the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of spilled whiskey. Her scarf had slipped slightly, letting her coiled hair frame her face, and she absentmindedly smoothed the fabric of her bell-sleeved blouse.

Across the room, a pair of piercing blue eyes watched her.

Elvis leaned against the far wall, a drink in hand, his body partially hidden by shadows. He wasn’t trying to blend in—he never really could—but he’d perfected the art of staying just out of reach. He was supposed to be here for the music, but now the band’s rhythm was nothing more than background noise.

His attention was locked on her.

She wasn’t like the women he was used to. She wasn’t dressed to impress anyone, but she had a way about her, a quiet confidence that made her stand out even in this crowded room. Her style was simple but striking—a flowy blouse, high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips just right, and a pair of hoop earrings that caught the light every time she tilted her head.

She wasn’t looking around for attention. She wasn’t giggling with friends or sneaking glances his way. She was just… there, completely unbothered, lost in the music.

And it was driving him crazy.

Elvis took a long sip of his drink, his jaw tightening as he watched her. He felt something dark and possessive coil in his chest. He didn’t know who she was or where she came from, but he already knew one thing: he had to have her.

Camille shifted in her seat, oblivious to the storm brewing across the room. She noticed the man leaning against the wall, but only for a moment. His presence registered briefly—dark hair, sharp features, something familiar about him—but she quickly dismissed it. She wasn’t here for that.

Elvis caught the brief glance, and his lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn’t recognized him. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, it didn’t sit well with him.

“She’s somethin’, huh?” one of his entourage murmured, breaking Elvis’s trance.

“Shut up,” Elvis snapped, his voice low and rough.

He couldn’t focus on anything else for the rest of the night. Even as the band played on, his eyes never left her. When she finally got up to leave, he felt a surge of panic. He wanted to stop her, to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat.

She disappeared into the night, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of Beale Street.

——————————————-

Later, back at Graceland, Elvis paced the length of his bedroom, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His hands trembled slightly, a side effect of the pills he’d taken earlier, but he barely noticed.

“She didn’t even look twice,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and gravelly. “Didn’t even care who the hell I was.”

Jerry walked in cautiously, carrying a fresh drink. “You all right, E?”

“No, I ain’t all right!” Elvis snapped, slamming his fist down on the dresser. “I need to know who she is. I need her name, where she lives—everything.”

Jerry blinked, hesitating for a moment. “E, you’re talkin’ like—”

“I don’t give a damn how I’m talkin’,” Elvis interrupted, his voice rising. “I want her found. You hear me? You got one job, Jerry, and that’s to do what the hell I say. Now, get out there and find her.”

Jerry sighed, but he knew better than to argue. “All right, E. I’ll see what I can do.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Elvis sank into the chair by the window, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. His mind was already spinning, consumed by thoughts of the woman who had barely spared him a second glance.

He didn’t know her name, but that didn’t matter. By the end of the week, she’d know his.

TAG: @kxnnxy @jhoneybees @gyratingpresley @buglass @iloveelvisss

[dykedvonte]

I just realized some people are confused about events in the alluded to past in Mouthwashing, particularly about how long the crew has been working together.

The only person who is truly new is Daisuke and it’s why his dynamic with the crew and role in the story is very unique and somewhat distant. Curly didn’t just get Jimmy this job on the Tulpar, he got him the job with the Pony Express. He’s been his copilot for probably a couple of years but still not as long as they’ve been friends. None of them are new with the freight industry, Anya and Swansea especially have been doing this for years, together.

Jimmy is the newest on the regular crew, maybe just a few assignments, but it’s not his first time working with them. I think it’s just something important because this isn’t just one bad mistake that snowballed with giving Jimmy the job. None of them thought Jimmy would do anything, no matter how off-put by him they could’ve been, since he hadn’t done a thing since being there. Generally unpleasantness isn’t a crime and he’d be aware of that.

It was a festering thing and a sort of forced trust they had to give him that he knowingly took advantage of. He was the black sheep and still a wolf under the wool. He expected when he lashed out, that he had been there long enough for it to be looked over completely. Got too comfortable in the space he inserted into and did a lot of damage with his claws when he felt he was going to get shaken out.

[storge]

Story of Kunning Palace (2023)

[seleneprince]

Unpopular opinion #3 (since people seem to like these stuff)

I'm gonna get hate for this but

Hinny feels forced and out of nowhere to me.

They had the perfect set up for a cute romance. Best friend's younger sister whom he's used to take care of, but suddenly she grows, doesn't seek his attention anymore and he slowly gets to know her as her own person instead of his buddie's sister. He find himself drawn to her and feels guilty about it for the typical reasons, only to realize she feels the same way, always has, and boom, their feelings finally clash in a passionate kiss after months of sexual tension and years of mutual pining. Beautiful.

Or at least that's what could have been if we saw them interacting more after the Chamber of Secrets thing, but we don't. Ginny practically dissapears after that, we only know of her through others' pov, and when she finally becomes relevant in harry's radar is when she's dating other boys and shows her skills in the quidditch field. Then suddenly, he notices how beautiful and funny she is, even though they're from the same house and they've surely seen each other often, either at the Burrow or around the common room.

They don't have a proper built-up, or any relevant interactions that hints at harry's interest in her, at least not enough to showcase the epic endgame couple they're supposed to be. It feels to me like the recurring trope that when a girl is in love with the protagonist long enough, she's bound to end up with him. Or the when someone is in love with you for so long, you must give them a chance.

I think one of the reasons it pisses me off so much is ginny's wasted potential. Because we could have had an amazing and compelling story about personal growth with a girl that, sick of being in her brothers' shadow and overlooked, finds the courage to forge her own path and make people recognize her for who she is, not as another Weasley. A story where, instead of fooling around to "make time" until her crush to notices her, she moves on from him and starts to date boys because she actually likes them and enjoys dating.

But no. Instead, all that development from her part is reduced to "hermione told me you might like me if i acted more like myself" "she told me to date other boys" bla bla bla

In conclussion:

Hinny had great potential as a love story, but it was done poorly

(REMINDER: This is just my opinion, and by no means i intend to force it unto other people or offend anyone. if you like hinny as a couple, good for you. I won't attack you because of it)