#help and comfort and support him. I want him to feel LOVED

[a-stars-art-blog]

Barok the physically affectionate my beloved

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Made Your Mark On Me

...a golden tattoo Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Your feelings for Dieter grow even stronger as you spend Christmas in London with him. Warnings: pov switching, christmas vibes, warren's a pos, pining, fluff, comfort, unprotected p in v sex, oral (f&m receiving), semi-public sex (in a dressing room), panty ripping, dieter's RICH, marijuana, alcohol, coke flashbacks, my google maps history knows a lot about the hyde park area of london Words: 7,800

A/N: Well folks, in true Gemini fashion, I've changed my mind. I know most of you voted for one mega chapter, but I think this arc is going to flow so much better as two. The next chapter is done, so expect that next week. My thanks to @devineconjuring for her eyes and dot eating and @schnarfer for her eyes and support. 💞

Previous Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist ✨✨✨

December 23

Early morning light seeps through the curtains. Dieter’s arm lays heavily draped over your waist, his breath steady against your neck. Just as you nestle closer into the warmth of his body, the silence is shattered by the beeping of his alarm. He stirs behind you, his arm tightening briefly before he reaches over to silence the intrusive sound. The mattress shifts as he sits up, and you instantly feel cold.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice deep with sleep. "I have to get ready for set."

When you roll over to face him, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips.

"You should go back to sleep," he whispers against your skin. "It's still early.”

You nod, already feeling the pull of slumber.

He kisses you once more before sliding out of bed. You watch through half-closed eyes as he stretches, his long, lean back rippling.

"I wish I could stay,” he whispers, bending over and cupping your face in his hands. "One more for the road,” he murmurs before giving you one last kiss.

He disappears into the bathroom. The shower turns on, and the steady sound of water flowing against the tiles helps you drift back to sleep.

—-

He wipes the condensation from the mirror, and the same brown eyes he’s known all these years stare back at him. They look different–not clouded under a druggy haze, not behind a red gloss after drinking too many glasses of expensive alcohol, not empty and hollow waiting for someone to focus on. They look bright, happy, and full of love. 

He dresses in the bedroom, careful not to wake you as he watches you nestled among the blankets, peacefully sleeping. He so badly wants to crawl back into bed and hold you close. But duty calls, and he knows the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can return.

One final day before the holiday break. He’s so glad you’re here–he couldn’t fathom not being with you for Christmas. Soon, he’ll have the whole week to spend entirely with you. He used to see these breaks as a reason to fly somewhere beautiful and far away with a suitcase full of drugs and drinks, maybe taking a pretty girl or boy–or both–with him. A reason to leave the stress of Hollywood behind, ignoring Christmas, where everyone is happy and full of love, and New Year’s, where everyone asks him how he’ll improve, as if they were calling him a fuck up. 

My, how times change. Now, domestic bliss swells in his heart when he pulls out two mugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee, leaving the sugar out for you. It’s a small gesture to make your morning better, and he’ll never tire of making you happy. 

In the living room, your robe lays in a heap on the rug, right where it fell from your shoulders last night. He picks it up, depositing it onto the chair by the bed before moving silently to your side. He’s careful not to disturb you as he leans over and leaves a kiss against your soft lips, slightly parted in slumber.

“I’ll be back soon, baby. I love you.”

—-

The sun shining in through the large windows warms you awake. Your mind clears, three softly whispered words echo through your head. The room feels empty without him, but you know there are only a few hours until you have a whole week with him. 

The smell of coffee and the leftover remnants of Dieter’s cologne tempt you out of bed. You choose his robe over your own, inhaling the scent of him before heading to the kitchen.

Signs of the night before are strewn amongst you as you enjoy your coffee on the couch–the same couch where your story with Dieter fundamentally changed. Two glasses of gin and tonic that have long gone flat sit on the table, a half-smoked joint lays in the crystal ashtray, and your phone sits on the chair, ignored since Dieter put the movie on. 

The corner near the window catches your eye and an idea lights in your mind and heart. Today, you’re going to get a Christmas tree for Dieter. After a quick shower and change of clothes, you bundle up under the warmth of his favorite brown coat and take the elevator down.

“Good morning, my lady,” Lamar greets you as you step out of the elevator. “Anything I can help you with on this lovely, cold December day?”

“Actually, yes,” you smile. “Dieter’s room is lacking a Christmas tree. Where can I get one? Preferably with lots of branches for ornaments?” “Ah,” Lamar’s eyes light up. “Leave that to me. I’ll get you two the finest tree in all of Britain. You just take care of the ornaments. I’ll get you a car.”

—-

“You’re needed on set in ten,” Court says with a sharp knock on his door.

“Alright,” he responds, sighing at his phone and staring at your last text.

I have a surprise for you when you get home.❣️

He can’t think about it too much. There’s a vital scene that he needs to get done before the break. Today has been filled with nothing but impatience and annoyance. He just wants to get back home to you.

Dieter takes a deep breath, pushing thoughts of you to the back of his mind. He needs to focus. What he has to do is crucial to the production, and he can't afford any distractions. Sometimes, he hates being an actor. 

The director calls action, and Dieter easily slips into character. But even as he delivers his lines, a part of him remains anchored to you back in that hotel room. To the feel of your lips, to the warmth of your body next to his, to the years of wanting you—and finally having you.

Hours pass in a blur of takes and retakes. Finally, the director calls it a wrap. Dieter hurries back to his trailer, shedding his costume and makeup as quickly as possible. And now, he has nine days with you.

—-

The door opens with a click and beep, and you quickly finish adjusting a branch before running to the entryway. 

Dieter lights up when he sees you, a wide, crinkling-eye-smile across his face.

“Hi, Sweets,” he says, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you. "I’m so happy to see you.” He inhales your scent, his lips meeting the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Hi. I have a surprise for you,” you sweetly tease. “Close your eyes.”

He pulls back, his eyes squeezed shut, the dimple on his cheek sitting deep with his smile. 

You grab his hand and lead him into the living room, the thrum of anticipation and excitement growing louder inside you with each step. 

“Okay,” you whisper, positioning him just right. “Open your eyes.” His eyes flutter open, and his jaw drops when he takes everything in.

A large Christmas tree adorned with tiny white lights is set up in the corner of the living room. Under it, bags from Liberty London and Selfridges sit filled with ornaments. 

“I figured we needed a proper Christmas tree.“

“I-I… Sweets, this is… amazing.”

“Yeah?”

He turns to you, tiny tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. “Yeah. This is surreal.”

Your heart pounds at that word. Surreal. The implication of his words last night before you drifted to sleep. Love. Love surreal. 

“I know,” you respond. “But it makes sense, right?”

“Fully.”

He wraps his arm around you, and your head rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He sighs contentedly, the sound of it vibrating against your cheek.

“Shall we get changed into our finest robes and decorate it?” you suggest.

“I’d love nothing more.”

—-

Christmas carols softly play in the background as you unearth ornament after ornament from your shopping bags. He hasn’t decorated a tree in years, usually leaving it to his assistant to sort it out just because he feels obligated to have one. He often wondered what spending the holidays with you would be like. You always made things look so picturesque, always went above and beyond. He wanted that, and when he couldn’t have it, well, the holidays really never mattered.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights dance across your face as you carefully unwrap each ornament with wonder in your eyes. You’re so beautiful.

“Oh! I got these too,” you excitedly say, pulling a box of colored Christmas lights out of the bag. “I figured you love a colorful tree.”

You’re perfect.

—-

The tree is just what you hoped it would be, shimmering in the corner with a mix of twinkling white and rainbow lights. You’re proud of the ornaments you found that now cover it. A film camera for Dieter, a record player for you, a fuzzy raccoon for Dieter, a furry corgi for you, a basket of chips for Dieter, a cup of tea for you, and every single star-shaped ornament you could find.

“We did a good job, didn’t we?” you ask, sitting on the couch with the lights off, only sitting in the warmth of Dieter and the tree’s glow. He sparks the joint, the lighter and the tree reflected in his big, brown eyes. 

“Mm, we did,” he responds, blowing out a plume of smoke before laying down and placing his head in your lap. 

“This is nice,” you say as you reach down and grab the joint from his lips to take a hit. 

You play with Dieter's hair, occasionally trailing your fingertips along his jawline or tracing the shell of his ear. He leans over and stubs out the joint, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss against it. “I’m really happy you’re here. Surreal, right?”

“So surreal,” you whisper.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 24

Silver bells…

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you and Dieter sway to the crooning voices of Christmas carols. Dieter's arms are secure around your waist. You’re both clad in matching flannel pajamas. All you can feel in this moment is the warmth of his body and the joy inside you.

He pulls away with a wide smile lighting up his face. “I have something for you. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.” He takes your hand and leads you to sit down in front of the Christmas tree, where he pulls out a small, clumsily wrapped box from behind it. "I wrapped it myself.”

You tear off the Rudolph-themed paper and open the velvet box, revealing a golden chain bracelet adorned with delicate charms–a camera, a shooting star, a biscuit for your tea, a bee for your garden, a mixtape, and a pig with wings (“because when pigs fly, right?).

“I tried to find a charm for everything that made me think of you,” Dieter softly says. 

Running your finger over each one, you feel like finally, after all these years, someone truly sees you.

"It's perfect," you say, awe in your voice. “Thank you.”

You reach out your wrist to him, and he gently fastens the bracelet's clasp. You’re enamored by how the golden charms glisten in the light when you shake your wrist back and forth.

“Surreal,” Dieter says as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your inner wrist, just below the bracelet.

Slowly, he trails kisses up your arm. You shiver, your free hand coming up to tangle in his hair when he nuzzles into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder before he licks his way up to your lips.

His hand cups your face, his thick thumb softly caressing your cheek as his lips meet yours. He deepens the kiss before guiding you to lie back on the floor. You feel his warmth as he covers you. An unfamiliar emotion you haven’t felt in years swells in your heart. He pulls away, his eyes roaming over your face with a small smile, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in his eyes.

You unbutton your top before shrugging it off. He takes in the sight of you before he lowers his head and presses soft kisses along your collarbone. He makes a path down to the swell of your breasts, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and desire.

A gasp escapes your lips when his mouth closes over your nipple, his hand cupping your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

Your back arches into his touch, Dieter’s lips curling into a smile against your skin as he trails kisses down your stomach until he reaches the apex of your legs. He wraps his fingers around the waistband of your plaid pajama pants before tugging gently. “It’s a shame. I loved matching with you, but these have to go, baby.” The flannel slides down your legs smoothly, his lips following the path, leaving a trail of warm kisses along your thighs.

He pauses at your knee, nuzzling the soft skin before continuing downward. When he reaches your ankle, a final kiss is pressed to the delicate bone before removing your pants.

He makes his way back up, his hands caressing your calves, knees, and thighs before he parts your legs and settles between them. His breath is warm against your inner thigh as he places sweet kisses there.

Brown eyes meet yours, the Christmas lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors inside his eyes as his tongue darts out and tastes you. His eyes flutter shut, a long, low groan vibrating against you as his tongue traces every fold and curve of you with reverent devotion. His fingers join in, parting you as he laps at your clit. 

Carding your fingers through his hair to urge him closer, your moans overpower the Christmas carols playing through the speakers.

Two thick fingers are slid inside you, slowly fucking you as your hips buck against his face. He hums against you, the sweet vibrations lighting you from within.

You’re panting for him, rolling your hips and clutching at your chest as his mouth and fingers work you. Just as you’re about to cum, he pulls back, making you whine at the loss. But before you can protest, Dieter’s already moving up your body.

The taste of you is left upon your lips when he kisses you, his tongue covered in your slick, licking against yours. You can feel the heaviness of him between your thighs, gently pressing against you. 

He breaks the kiss, pulling away to look into your eyes as he slowly pushes inside, both of you gasping and smiling. 

"You feel incredible," he sighs, peppering kisses along your jaw. "So perfect."

He languidly moves inside you, savoring the feel. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling as he rocks into you.

He’s so beautiful, lit by the Christmas lights–the glow makes him look almost ethereal. His broad shoulders cast shifting shadows as he moves above you. Your hands move down to the plush of his stomach, your nails raking across his skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him into you deeper. He buries his face into your neck, groaning as he fucks into you faster.

“Dee,” you breathe before he lifts his head to kiss you again, swallowing your moans and gasping into your mouth. 

His movements falter as he gets closer. Your back arches as your whole body tightens and then trembles. You cry out his name as your orgasm flows through your body, setting you alight as your walls clench Dieter’s cock. The sensation pushes him over the edge as he groans your name, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. It’s so warm, the heat of it filling you.

You cling to him as he collapses on top of you, both your bodies quivering with aftershocks. Dieter softly kisses along your neck and jaw as you both catch your breath.

He lifts his head, glancing over at the clock above the doorway that now reads 12:01 AM.

“Merry Christmas, Sweets.”

“Merry Christmas, Dee.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 25

Steady breaths against your neck slowly wake you. Dieter's arms are wrapped around you, your bare skin pressed against his. You turn, careful not to wake him, drinking in the sight of him. His face is relaxed in sleep, long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His chaotic hair is even more mussed, a stray lock falling across his forehead. You reach out to gingerly brush it away before touching the glinting gold earring in his ear. A surge of affection lights your body. This moment–waking up with Dieter on Christmas morning in London–feels almost magical and unbelievable. You lean in, pressing your lips softly to his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his mouth.

He stirs, his brown eyes fluttering open. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he focuses on you. "Merry Christmas, baby," he says, voice deep with sleep. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him.

You kiss him again, deeper this time. He responds eagerly, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as you begin to move your body against his.

He rolls you onto your back before entering you slowly, groaning at how wet and ready you already are for him.

“God damn,” he sighs as he slowly fucks you. “Merry Christmas to me. You’re the best gift ever.”

You have the most relaxed Christmas morning you’ve ever had. Dieter has spoiled you–piles of wrapping and tissue paper are strewn across the suite, and a pile of gifts lies next to you. Designer and vintage clothes, cute trinkets, sparkling jewelry, a hand-bound journal with your initial embossed on the cover, a crystal rolling tray, a new frame for “a photo of us.” Everything is perfect and so well thought out by Dieter.

The small stack of gifts from you is grouped next to him. He holds up the ALF plush you knitted for him, knowing it’s one of his favorite shows ever.

“I can’t believe you made me this. It's… amazing, baby. Definitely my favorite gift ever.”

“You said that to me last night when you stuck your dick in me. So it’s ALF and then me?”

His jaw drops before lifting to smile. “God, you’re funny.”

He looks around the room, taking in everything before he reaches for his iPad.

“So, I have something else for you, but it’s, uh,” he lifts his hand, nervously rubbing his neck. “It’s not here, and it’s not done yet."

You arch an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of puzzlement.

He beckons you over with his finger. “Come here.”

You crawl through the sea of crinkly paper into his lap, the back of your head resting against his chest.

A video plays of an artist painting delicate stars around a woman who looks similar to you, emerging from shadows into a luminous golden space.

“This is Layla Profar. She’s an up-and-coming artist who uses pure gold in her paintings. I told her your story, and this is what she’s painting. For you. She’s been working around the clock to finish it.”

Tears well in your eyes at the thoughtfulness. Nobody’s ever done or given anything like this to you.

"This is how I see you,” he says, his voice low against your ear. “Stepping out from what held you back, coming into your own. Away from Warren. You're free now, Golden Girl.” You stare at the painting, seeing a mirror of your own journey, tears falling down your cheeks.

A sniffle and a small sob alert him to your tears. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl. Full of life and warmth and delight.” He nuzzles into your neck, leaving a soft kiss against your skin before he breathes you in.

You want to say the three words that spill out of your heart and up to your mouth, but you stay silent, quietly crying as he cradles you, gently rocking you back and forth.

“You like it, right?” he asks after a bit.

You choke out a laugh, turning to face him, tears still streaming down your face. His eyes search yours, a flicker of uncertainty in them.

“I love it,” you whisper. “Dee, this is the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.” Relief washes over his handsome face, a smile blooming across it. “Yeah?”

You reach up, cradling his head between your hands, the stubble of his jaw prickling against your palms. You seal your mouth over his in a tender kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion swelling in your chest into him. He crushes you against his broad chest, tightening his arms around you.

He pulls back, the small tears in his eyes mirror your own.

“Our first Christmas together, Golden Girl.”

—-

A small, sated smile still lights your face as you peacefully slumber next to him. He pulls you closer, marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

He thinks back on the past few days–decorating the Christmas tree together, exchanging gifts, making love under the twinkling lights, sharing meals and joints with easy laughter. It's the happiest he's ever been.

For the first time, the holidays truly feel special and magical, filled with joy and… love. Because he loves you, wholly and completely. He’s known it for so long. For years. But sharing this Christmas with you has only solidified what his heart already knew–you are his Golden Girl, his person, the one he wants to spend every Christmas, birthday, and lazy Sunday morning with for the rest of his days.

For so long, he thought he could never have this, never dared to imagine he deserved you. His life has been a whirlwind of chaos—film sets, red carpets, shallow flings, a failed marriage, pills of different sizes and strengths, empty bottles of alcohol. But then there was you–his beautiful, talented, funny friend who always saw past the celebrity. Who saw him.

He leaves a kiss against your forehead before he also falls asleep with a smile.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 26

Dieter shuffles behind you as you rub face cream on your cheeks, a towel wrapped around your body fresh from the shower you two shared.

“Are you sure we’ll be okay?” you ask

“I’m sure. They don’t care about all this,” he says, gesturing wildly, “and all the celebrity bullshit like they do at home.”

He thinks you like staying in, away from the prying eyes of the public. Still unable to realize how free you are from Warren’s influence and watchful eyes.

He remembers the first time he met you. He, Warren, and some friends were out celebrating his multi-episode arc on some procedural police drama. He spotted you across the hazy bar, surrounded by your girlfriends, your smile wide and your dress gold, sparkling under the dim lights.

He made his way over to you, the gravity of your pull too much for him to ignore. He asked you to dance, and you giggled, taking his hand. He pulled you close, and from that moment on, you’ve been the only girl he’s ever wanted. He told you he was an actor. You confided in him then that was always your dream. He felt brave, his self-esteem boosted by the new role. He couldn’t resist you, his lips seeking yours, cutting off your cheerful giggle, tasting the sweet alcohol left in your mouth.

And then… he went to snort some lines in the bathroom, only to return to find Warren spinning you across the dance floor, the same smile you gave him, the same kiss you shared now given to his friend.

He was too high to care that night. Funny how the lines of coke in that disgusting bathroom would come to haunt him for years.

Now, as he helps you shuffle into your jacket, turning you around to button it up before sweetly kissing you, those ghosts are replaced by a hopeful future with you.

“Come on, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand. “I want to take you shopping.”

—-

The wind is crisp against your cheeks as you and Dieter walk hand in hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin as you make your way towards Harrod’s.

“I’m so excited,” you beam as the grand building comes into view. You lead him to a window, pausing in front of it and taking in the festive display. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m glad I get to see this with you.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too.”

To call Harrod's busy on Boxing Day is an understatement. You’ve never seen such a whirlwind of activity before. Your and Dieter’s eyes light up as you both take everything in.

His hand never leaves yours as you weave through the crowds, getting lost in the maze of sections, taking in the displays and glittering lights.

"Look at these," you say, holding up a pair of plush, fuzzy slippers adorned with a smiling corgi face. "Aren't they adorable?"

“Get ‘em,” he smiles, his eyebrows rising above his sunglasses. “And get me a pair, too.”

—-

A kind shopping attendant named Phineas effortlessly holds on to the many bags and boxes piling up high.

“Oh, that’s so pretty,” you exclaim, pointing to an emerald green silk scarf adorned with delicate golden stars. Dieter plucks it from the display.

“I don’t really need it. I just thought it was pretty.”

“Yeah, but I want to see you in only this later tonight,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “It’ll look good against your skin.”

You chuckle and shake your head as you lead him into another section.

He loves spoiling you. He loves the way you get shy and flustered as he keeps adding more and more items to Phineas’s arms.

“I won't have enough room,” you sigh as he tucks a Judith Lieber Ticket to Space clutch under his arm. “Poor Phineas is suffering.”

“Bullshit,” he says with a doting smile. “I’ll mail it to you.” 

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his “wallet”—a paper clip-secured stack of pounds and credit cards. He hands Phineas a platinum card and a stack of £50 notes. “Do me a favor, Phin. Get this all packaged up and delivered to the Mandarin for me. Keep the cash. Merry Boxing Day.”

“Yes, sir, thank you!” Phineas exclaims before he departs.

Dieter watches him leave, a roguish grin on his face. “Let’s go see what lingerie this place has to offer, huh?”

—-

Harrod's has a LOT of lingerie choices to offer… and a private dressing room. Dieter sits on a luxe blush pink velvet couch, waiting for you to appear from behind the curtain.

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the matching bra and panty set you found. The dark blue fabric is almost sheer, and golden stars embroidered across the delicate lace shimmer as you check yourself out in the mirror. The bra cups lift and shape your breasts, the matching thong sits low on your hips. You’re going to drive Dieter crazy.

With a surge of confidence from how you look, you open the curtain and step out. Dieter throws his sunglasses off, his eyes widening and lips parting as he takes in the sight of you.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes.

You saunter over, standing in front of him. He throws his head back as he struggles to maintain his composure, his hands gripping the edge of the couch. When he looks at you again, his eyes turn dark.

“Turn around.”

You comply, slowly spinning to give him a view of your ass. He leans forward, placing a kiss against the supple shape of it. You chuckle, shaking your head at how needy he is for you.

“Fuck, you look so fucking good. Wish I could scoop you up in my arms and carry you out of here.”

He makes you feel confident, sexy, and… brave.

“Dee, we can be quick.”

A huge smile breaks across his face as he reaches forward, pulling you on top of him. He fumbles with the drawstrings of his pants, quickly pulling them down. He tangles the flimsy lace of the expensive thong in his hand before he rips it off.

“Oh my god! We haven’t bought that yet.”

“Don’t care, I’ll buy you ten more,” he growls.

He grips your hips, lifting you slightly before guiding you onto his hard length. You both groan as he fills you completely. His hands move to cup your ass, encouraging you to ride him.

“Fast, baby. Fuck me fast,” he groans before leaning forward and kissing you. His hands roam your body before he palms your breasts through the lace of the bra, his thumbs brushing over the hard peaks of your nipples.

There’s a thrill of potentially getting caught that makes you ride him harder, roll your hips with more force, and bite your lip to stifle your moans and sighs.

You’ve never done something like this before–so risque, so close to getting caught. The suspense pushes you over the edge. Your body trembles as you orgasm on his cock, squeezing and clenching, urging him to cum. Dieter follows right after, burying his face in your neck to muffle his groan as he spills inside you.

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. After a moment, Dieter chuckles softly. "Well, I think I liked that set.”

You giggle. “Me too. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Whatever designer that is, buy everything they have.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 27

You’ve been in London for five days, and tonight is the first night you’re actually leaving the hotel room for dinner. Yesterday, Dieter told you to surprise him and pick a dress, telling you he wanted to take you out on a proper date.

You’ve been holed up in the guest bedroom, digging through various Harrod’s bags and boxes, pulling out makeup, hair products, and jewelry to complete your outfit.

A light knock on the door catches your attention as you pull on your brand-new boots.

“The car’s here,” Dieter says at the door. “Reservation’s in twenty, Sweets.”

“Coming!” you shout.

—-

Dieter buttons up his plaid wool jacket, his fingers freezing on the last button when he looks up and sees you. The gold mini dress you’re wearing clings to your body, reminding him so much of the dress you wore the first night you met. The hem falls mid-thigh, your legs clad in black tights that end in knee-high boots. But what really catches his eye is the green scarf covered in golden stars that you’ve tied around your neck. He knew it’d look gorgeous against your skin. He wants to say fuck it and cancel the reservation right then and there.

“Wow, you look stunning, baby.”

“Thanks,” you shyly respond, smoothing down the front of your dress. “Is it too much?” You ask, glancing down at the top swell of your breasts framed by the v-neck neckline.

“Fuck no,” he chuckles. “It’s perfect. Though, maybe we should stay in.”

“No, Dee. I’m starving, and you promised me a proper date.”

He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, let’s go.”

—-

The plates have long been cleared, and your glass is filled with more melted ice than gin and tonic. You haven’t been on an actual date in years.

Warren used to wine and dine you, take you to the fanciest restaurants, and surprise you with flowers. Then, your nights spent together dwindled, and the bouquets disappeared. It was then up to you to grow your own flowers.

The streets outside the restaurant are busy. Londoners walk, bundled up in coats, scarves, and hats, clouds of condensation puffing out from between their lips. You wonder if they’re all as happy as you are right now. Your hand in Dieter’s as he regales you with a story about a mismatched dance belt fiasco from his theatre days.

The candlelight flickers in his bright brown eyes and the dimple carved in his cheek is deeper as he smiles. He’s so gorgeous, it’s hard to believe it took you this long to give yourself this moment. Your lips tingle when you think about leaning over and kissing him, but you don’t. You’ll thank him for this night once you get back home.

“Dee,” you interrupt as he continues his story. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you get the check?” You ask before glancing around and leaning in closer to him. “I’d like to go back home and suck your cock.” 

The table clangs and clatters as Dieter stands quickly, throwing a large wad of money on the surface before grabbing your hand. 

—

As soon as the elevator doors close, you’re on him, your lips capturing his.

“Whoa, baby,” he chuckles as you suck on his lower lip.

“Want… to… thank… you…” you say, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“Fuck.”

He lifts you into his hold, your legs wrapping around his waist.

The elevator dings open, and he stumbles out. Your kisses turn to licks along his jaw and down his neck. You’re already moaning for him, and he fumbles with the key card until, finally, the door beeps and swings open.

You’re already sliding down his body when the door shuts, hands trailing over his stomach as you sink to your knees, your fingers working at his belt buckle.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans, head falling back against the wall as you free his hardening cock from his pants.

He lets out an audible gasp when you look up at him through your lashes, a coy smile playing on your lips before you take him into your mouth.

He’s not a strong man. He’s thought of this so many times throughout the years. Your mouth all over him, not his spit-covered palm. The sound of your moans vibrating against his cock as you take him in deeper, not his soft whimpers as he jerks himself off. Your pretty face covered in his cum, not his hand and stomach.

Now, his thumbs feel the softness of your cheeks, hollowing and sucking him harder. He hears the soft keens mixed with the wet slurp as your tongue swirls around his head. His knees get weak right as your hand cups his balls, gently squeezing and massaging them.

He can already feel the rush of bliss overtaking his body. He knows he’s leaking against your tongue, and when you pull his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your lips, he cums all over you.

Your jackets haven’t even been removed–the only sign of anything uncouth happening is his softening dick and your pretty face covered in his cum.

He can’t believe his luck, looking down at you smiling wide as you collect a dollop of him on your thumb and suck it off with a sweet “mmm.”

God, he loves you.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 28

“Man, I miss Lucky Charms,” Dieter sighs as he stirs a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.

“You should have told me. I could have packed you some.”

“Damn, good point. Well, I’ll be home in a few weeks at least.”

Home. Your vacation will soon be over. Your flight is booked for the 2nd. You know you need to get back home. Once Dieter goes back to filming, you’ll never see him, and you can’t stay cooped up in this hotel suite waiting—and distracting him. But damn, you don’t want to leave.

You wonder what the future holds for the two of you once he returns to Los Angeles. Has something fundamentally shifted between the two of you? You can’t imagine being in the same city as him but not together.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Dieter's hand on yours. "Hey, where'd you go just now?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Just thinking about going home," you say with a small shrug.

His face falls slightly. “It’ll only be a few weeks.”

“I know, I just… I’m going to really miss you. Like a lo—”

Your phone dings, interrupting your confession. You look down.

notwarrengharding posted a tweet

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you remind yourself for the hundredth time to turn off notifications for him as you go to Twitter.

It’s a photo. Of you—and Dieter—at the restaurant he took you to last night. Your head is thrown back in laughter, your smile wide. He’s grinning at you, his hand on yours, with his dark brown eyes glowing in the low light. You look like a couple in love.

You’re enamored by the photo until you notice Warren’s retweeted a celebrity gossip account with the eye-rolling emoji and the quote: “Trust is earned, respect is given, and loyalty is demonstrated.”

Your stomach drops. How dare he. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. Handing Dieter the phone.

His face sets in anger after his eyes widen when he sees the photo.

“Fuck, indeed.”

Panic sets in. That’s a paparazzi photo.

You knew this would happen eventually, but you weren't prepared for it to be so soon. And you certainly weren't prepared for Warren to chime in. Dread settles in your stomach.

“That’s… everywhere now. All over. W-Warren knows and-”

"And what?" Dieter interrupts gently. "So he knows we're together. Is that such a bad thing? He’s just being a petty asshole. Sweets, all that matters is what we have together here, nobody else. I’ve waited so long for this. For us. Fuck everyone else.”

“I just… I remember what happened with Anika, and I don’t want that to happen to me.” A tear falls down your cheek.

He gets up, kneeling down in front of you and gathering your hands in his. “Baby, look at me. Everything that happened between Ani and I was only because, for so long, I tried to recreate what I felt for you, what I thought you and Warren had, and I failed miserably at it. You’re my golden girl, only you.”

“I just… I don’t want this to cause problems for you. With your career or the press or-”

He cuts you off with a soft kiss. “Fuck everyone else, okay, baby?”

—-

You’re quiet today, keeping your face stuck behind a book you bought at Harrod's while Dieter studies his lines for the upcoming shoot days.

He tries to focus on his script, but his eyes keep drifting to you, curled up on the couch. Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you read, but he can see the tension in your shoulders. He knows you're still upset about the photo and Warren's post.

He sets the script aside and moves to sit next to you on the couch. Gently, he tugs the book from your hands. You look up at him, your eyes clouded with worry.

"Talk to me, Sweets," he says softly. "What's really bothering you?"

You sigh, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around you. "I'm scared, Dee. Everything felt so perfect before and… I don't know. I don't want to lose this."

Dieter pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're not going to lose me. Or this. I know my track record isn't great, but you're different. You've always been different."

He tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes. "I meant what I said earlier. Fuck everyone else. All that matters is you and me.”

He regrets so many parts of his past but never meeting you. Now that he has you, he’ll never let you go. The future used to always freak him out, but now, with you, it’s something he can’t wait for.

—-

There’s a cloud over the hotel suite, full of uncertainty and fear.

You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words blur together as your mind races. The photo of you and Dieter keeps flashing in your thoughts, along with Warren's tweet.

You can almost hear his voice, dripping with fake concern as he shares the image with mutual friends, painting himself as the wronged party.

"Did you see this? I can't believe she'd do this to me…"

Bullshit. Warren left you. You shouldn’t feel guilty for moving on, for finding happiness with someone else… even if it is with Dieter. And yet…

You can’t fathom thinking about the tabloids and gossip sites, the way they’ve molded Dieter into whatever narrative they decide will sell. Tragic drug-addicted actor has-been, drunken playboy who has a new person to fuck every other week, happily married man who found love with a hotel receptionist, heart-breaking divorcee who will never find love, charming darling who booked a comeback project… you’ve seen them all.

But you know Dieter. He’s the most caring, sweetest, and thoughtful man you’ve ever met. You’re damn lucky to have had him as a friend, even luckier to have him in whatever way this is now.

Dieter sets his script aside, wrapping an arm around you. You feel the anxieties already disappearing, his touch reminding you of why this is all worth it.

His brown eyes, filled with concern, meet yours. “Fuck everyone else,” he whispers against your lips before pressing his gently against yours. 

—-

It’s one of those nights, the one where he’d typically toss and turn before getting up and downing a couple of sleeping pills with a whiskey chaser, but tonight, he simply lies awake. Your body nestled close, your smooth skin against his. There’s something about sharing a bed with you that still feels so foreign to him. Years of yearning to feel your touch, and now he has it. It still doesn’t feel real.

He remembers a couple of months after he had met you, you called him in a panic, saying your car had broken down on the freeway near the apartment he and Warren shared in Burbank. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone and scared on the side of the road.

When he pulled up, he saw you, small and vulnerable, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your face flashing from worry to relief as you recognized him approaching.

He jumped out of his car, rushing to your side. The sight of you, tears streaking your cheeks and mascara smudged under your eyes, made his chest ache. The flat tire was obvious.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here now,” he soothed, pulling you into his arms without thinking. You melted against him, your body shaking slightly as tears started to fall.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Thank you. I-I didn’t know who else to call. Warren and I… we’re not really talking right now, and I don’t have a spare and can’t afford a tow.” Your lower lip quivered as fresh tears spilled over.

"You can always call me, no matter what. I'll always come for you."

He was broke as hell, waiting for a residual check to come through, but he didn’t hesitate to call for a tow truck and pay for it. He drove you home and dropped you off. You leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. “Thank you, Dee. You’re my hero.”

As he watched you walk into your apartment building, he knew he was in deep. He would do anything for you. Like waiting years and years to finally have you in his arms.

Now that he has you, he’ll be damned if he lets anybody or anything come in between you. Whether it’s shitty ex-husbands, tabloids, or his own demons, he’s not going to let anything ruin this.

He thinks about the future, years down the line. Lazy mornings in bed, walking hand-in-hand through flea markets, laughing over shared meals. He pictures you by his side at red-carpet events, the cameras flashing around the two of you, a wide smile across his face as he shows off his golden girl. 

He sneaks out of bed, careful not to wake you, and throws his robe on before grabbing his phone. The air is cool as he opens the door, quickly walking out onto the same balcony he used to spend his late nights and early mornings on talking to you. He does the familiar math in his head. It’s 2 AM in London and only 6 PM in Los Angeles.

It only takes two rings for Alex to pick up.

“Bravo. It’s late there. Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine. Listen, those photos of me and Sweets at the restaurant…”

“We’re aware.”

“Take care of them. I don't want her dragged into this. Make sure the tabloids know she's off-limits."

Alex sighs on the other end. "You know how this works. Once it's out there—"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "Use whatever connections you have. Call in favors. I'll do extra press, more interviews…” Dieter looks over when he hears the door open. You’re wrapped in a sheet, your tired eyes blinking back at him. “Whatever it takes. Just keep her name out of it."

There’s a pause before Alex responds. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Alex,” he sighs and hangs up as you lay your body over his. You’re still warm from the bed, covering and comforting him like a blanket.

“Was that call about me?” you ask, your voice still soft and sleepy.

“Mm, it was.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Dee, Not for me. I’ll get over it, I’ve had to get over worse.”

“Sweets, look at me. I’ll do anything to keep you happy and protect you. I—” he struggles to say the truth, but he doesn’t want to complicate today for you even more. “Anything. You know that, right?”

You cuddle in closer to him. “I know,” you whisper. “I’d do anything for you too.”

“Anything?” he asks. “Do you think we could go inside? I can’t feel my toes.”

—

 “Fuck everyone else.” Dieter’s words echo in your mind.

A simple phrase, really, yet so powerful coming from him. The way he sprang into action, calling his agent in the middle of the night to shield you. You can’t remember the last time Warren made such a sacrifice for you–if he ever did. 

You nestle deeper into Dieter’s warm, strong arms wrapped around you, protected by his actions and steady breathing as he sleeps. 

You try to recall a single instance where Warren put your needs before his own. The memories are hazy, obscured by years of neglect and indifference. Your husband always focused on his own image and career. You were an accessory to be shown off when it suited him and ignored when it didn’t.

But here, in Dieter’s arms, you feel cherished. Valued. Protected. And… in love.

✨✨✨ A/N: Next chapter next week. Thank you for reading! Please feel free to yell at me. 💞

Alternative chapter header. ALF FOREVER

✨✨✨ Perma tagging: @schnarfer @mothandpidgeon @ohheypedrito Tagging some friends and lovers of GG (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @sawymredfox, @secretelephanttattoo, @galway-girlatwork, @whatumuhcallit, @chronically-ghosted @copperhalfcent, @jessthebaker, @moel-jiller, @sunnytuliptime, @jokesonthem @lotusbxtch, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @flawssy-227, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @littlemisspascal @cas-readsandwrites, @wave0fg00dvibes, @rulexofxnines, @tuquoquebrute, @littlevenicebitch69

[7ndipity]

Their S/o Has Social Anxiety

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle their partner having really bad social anxiety(sometimes to the point where they can’t leave their house)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and agoraphobia, not proofread

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! As someone who also suffers from anxiety issues, I hope this will bring you some comfort and make you smile

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: Jin also has a bit of social anxiety, so I think he’d really understand your struggle and try to help make you as comfortable with him as possible. He’d happily come to your house to hang out for date nights instead of you coming to him or the two of you going out somewhere, without ever making it feel awkward or like an inconvenience. He would gladly help try and help you broaden your comfort zones if you wanted, but he’d never pressure you to do anything you aren't fully ready to do.  

Yoongi: He’s mentioned in the past about having anxiety issues as well, so he’d definitely understand your struggles to a certain degree. He would do his best to comfort and reassure you to keep you from feeling pressured or overwhelmed if/when you go out together. He would be really good at reading your cues and knowing when you need a break to breathe and recenter yourself, and would sit patiently beside you through any attacks or low points that you might go through. All he cares about is you feeling safe and supported.

Hobi: As I’ve said before, this man is comfort incarnate. He’s so kind and understanding about your anxieties and fears and is more than happy to keep date nights just between the two of you at home to make you comfortable. On the days you do feel up for going out, he stays close by your side the whole time, hyping you up and keeping your attention at least partially focused on him so you don’t get overwhelmed as easily. He just approaches it all with a very light, loving energy that instantly puts you at ease.

Namjoon: Honestly, despite him being quite extroverted, I could see him being super understanding of your anxieties, though he might struggle at times to understand your perspective on certain situations. Lowkey, he becomes your bodyguard whenever the two of you go out, lol, making sure your not overwhelmed and feel calm and secure in your surroundings. When you’re struggling or having a bad day, he’d be soo comforting and calming, even if all you need is a realllly tight hug(his hugs have healing powers, I’m sure)

Jimin: God bless this sweet boy, he would be soo patient and gentle with you, talking softly and keeping a hand in yours the whole time whenever you go out together. He would have no problem with date nights just being cozy nights in, or even just talking on the phone instead on the days when you’re really struggling and find it hard to be around even him. Whatever helps you feel more comfortable and allows the two of you to spend more time together is all he cares about.

Taehyung: Though he seems to enjoy being around people, he’s quite empathetic and would be soo comforting and soothing to have around when you're feeling anxious. He’d be great at combating the guilt/embarrassment that sometimes comes with the fear of social interaction, giving you a reasurring squeeze(if you’re comfortable) and remiding you that it’s okay to take your time and do things at your own pace. He’d set up date nights at home that are so cute nither of you miss going out.

Jungkook: He may not understand the full extent of your anxieties, but I think he would be really sympathetic and acomodating to your needs. Like this dude’s more than happy having a cozy night in, building y’all a pillow fort and bingewatching whatever show or movies you want. He’s super protective whenever you do feel like going out, making sure that you’re as comfortable as possible and taking breaks to make sure you don’t push yourself too far and get drained or overwhelmed.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[koyagifs]

𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: yunho x reader au: idol | established relationship | genre: fluff word count: 1.2 k synopsis: yunho so excited to become a father, he was determined to make your babymoon the most memorable memory for you. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities. mention of pregnancy!

Yunho's excitement was palpable as he talked about the upcoming babymoon. He'd been planning every detail, determined to make it the most memorable experience for both of you. From finding the perfect cozy getaway spot to arranging special activities that would help you relax and enjoy the time together, he made sure everything was perfect.

The way his eyes sparkled with anticipation whenever he spoke about it made you smile. He was eager to share these precious moments, even before the baby arrived, creating memories that the two of you could cherish forever. It was clear to see that his love for you and the excitement of becoming a father filled him with a sense of joy that couldn’t be contained.

At seven months pregnant, your belly had grown beautifully round, a visible testament to the new life you were carrying. It was pleasantly swollen, and Yunho couldn't help but gently rest his hand on it, feeling the baby move every so often. He’d often smile, his heart swelling with love and anticipation for the little one on the way.

You moved a little slower now, but Yunho was always there to support you, making sure you were comfortable, whether it was with a soft pillow to prop you up or a blanket to keep you warm.

The date he decided on for valentines weekend and you were so excited. Yunho had chosen the perfect place : Jeju Island. As soon as he told you, your excitement was uncontrollable. You had always wanted to visit the picturesque island, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The idea of spending the weekend there, just the two of you, before the baby arrived was incredibly special.

Yunho made sure every detail was planned—romantic walks along the coast, visits to the island’s lush gardens, and cozy moments in a beautiful, secluded retreat. He even arranged for a few surprise activities, like a couple's spa day and a private dinner with a view of the ocean. His thoughtfulness made everything feel extra special.

On the last night on Jeju Island, the two of you decided to take a peaceful walk along the beach near your villa. The sky was painted in deep shades of purple and pink as the sun set, and the sound of the waves crashing gently on the shore added a calming rhythm to the air.

Yunho, always the caring partner, held your hand tenderly, his fingers intertwining with yours. His touch was warm and steady, offering you both comfort and connection. Every so often, he would rest a hand on your swollen belly, feeling the baby’s tiny movements and smiling softly to himself. He seemed so full of love and happiness, his excitement for the future shining through his every glance.

As you sat together on the beach, the sound of the waves creating a serene backdrop, Yunho's voice broke the gentle silence. He leaned back, his hand resting softly on your lap, his eyes warm and full of love as he looked at you. "I love you so much, you know that, right?" he said, his tone sincere and filled with emotion.

You could feel the weight of his words, the depth of his affection for you and the little one growing inside you. His hand on your lap was gentle, yet it held an undeniable tenderness, as if he was already imagining all the moments ahead of you as a family.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with love in return. "I love you too, Yunho."

His hand gently rubbed your belly, feeling the warmth of the life inside you. He leaned in closer, placing soft, lingering kisses along your belly, making you giggle each time his lips brushed against your skin.

"You're going to be so beautiful—just like your mother," Yunho mumbled, his voice full of adoration as he continued to caress your belly. His eyes shone with a mixture of love and excitement for the little one.

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, your fingers gently playing with his hair as you replied, teasingly, "No, he's going to be handsome just like his father."

Yunho paused, looking up at you with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling. " he is a she."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Well, she is going to be beautiful just like her father then," you teased, your hand still gently resting in his hair.

Yunho's grin widened at your playful response. "I knew it!" he said with a mock pout. "You can't deny it, she's going to be a little version of me."

You chuckled, shaking your head, knowing that no matter what she looked like, she would be perfect in both of your eyes. "She'll be perfect just like both of us," you said softly, your voice filled with affection.

Yunho's gaze softened, his hand resting back on your belly as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. "I can't wait to meet her," he murmured, his voice full of love and excitement for the future.

" i believe the boys are more excited then us, " you joked.

Yunho chuckled softly, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with amusement. "You might be right," he said, his grin widening. "They're already planning all sorts of things for her." He seemed to be imagining the excitement of the other guys, all eager to meet the little one.

You laughed, nodding. "They're going to spoil her, I can already tell," you teased, the thought of their eager anticipation making you smile. "She'll be the center of attention before she even arrives."

Yunho shook his head, his hand still resting on your belly as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. "They’ll be great uncles," he said warmly, his tone full of affection for his friends—and for the future they were all about to share together.

"You and I are going to have to fight for her attention," you joked, winking at him.

Yunho's smile softened, and he leaned in to kiss you, a kiss full of promises and love for everything that was to come. "As long as she knows how much we love her, that’s all that matters," he murmured against your lips.

You melted into the kiss, feeling all the warmth and love he had for you, your heart swelling with emotion. But before you could even fully process the moment, Yunho’s arms were around you, and with a playful grin, he effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, laughing as he held you close, his strength surprising you even more in the tender moment. "Yunho!" you gasped, trying to hold back your giggles as he twirled you around slightly, the world around you seeming to blur in the joy of it all.

Yunho chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I couldn’t resist," he said, his voice light but full of affection. "I’m just too excited to hold you—and our little girl." His gaze dropped to your belly for a moment, filled with such tenderness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer, unable to stop smiling. "Careful, Yunho, I’m not as light as I used to be," you teased, even as you enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms, so secure and loved.

He just grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll carry both of you for as long as I have to," he said, his words as sweet and sincere as ever.

In that moment, you couldn’t have felt more cherished, knowing that no matter what, you would always be held in Yunho’s love.

p.s the baby was a baby boy.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Happy Birthday to @intothedysphoria 🥳🎂🤍 you are such a treasure, here’s a little something I wrote for you - I hope you have a great day!! 🤍

Billy wakes up before their alarm and immediately reaches over to shut it off. He doesn’t give it even a chance to ruin the sight beside him: Steve, his boyfriend of six years, asleep.

His boyfriend is twenty-four today, something he knows Steve will whine about (“I’m getting old!”) because his mother is the same way, but Billy loves it. He loves that he gets to age with him.

As if twenty-four is old. Billy’s never felt better. Sorta. That summer at Starcourt changed him forever, in a lot of ways.

But, he pushes the thought away in favour of settling back onto his side to admire Steve as he sleeps. His pretty boy is always annoyingly just that — pretty — whenever he does anything. Even sleep.

His cheek is pressed against his pillow, his lips parted ever so slightly, his eyelashes gently moving as he dreams. His hair is a dark mess against the soft green pillowcase, his mole and freckled dotted skin on display because he was too hot to sleep with a shirt on.

California nights can get like that. Billy’s used to it, but Steve still isn’t. Not that Billy’s going to complain — he loves reaching over at night and smoothing his hand across Steve’s chest hair, or kissing his shoulder in the morning, rousing him from his slumber.

But, today is different. He lets Steve sleep in, cuddles him for a while, pulling the sleeping princess into his chest and smiling as he hears the gently lip-smacking his boyfriend makes as he gets comfortable again, the soft hums he makes in the back of his throat as he sleeps.

And as the sun really begins to rise, its rays peeking through their curtains, Billy smoothes his hand down Steve’s warm back and kisses the top of his head and feels that familiar rush of affection and safety he can only feel with him.

This, right here, has kept him sane. Has kept him from being pulled down with his darkest thoughts. Steve’s love and trust and support has helped him in ways he can’t express and can never pay back, even if given an eternity to.

And Steve doesn’t even expect anything back, which Billy can’t understand. He can remember one of his breakdowns, when they had first moved here and everything was so raw and new, and Steve had held him and looked him in the eyes as he said, “We love each other and that’s all I need. I promise. I don’t want anything but you to be happy and safe with me, Billy.”

And it had broke his heart in the best way. He can feel the tears gathering in his eyes now, the memory is still so fresh. He wipes at his eyes with his free hand and feels Steve stir against him.

Glancing down, he watches Steve’s head lift and his eye cracks open, still so tired and half asleep, but his pretty boy cracks a tiny smile before his head drops again, nuzzling his rough cheek into Billy’s bicep where it’s resting.

“Go back to sleep,” Billy whispers, nearly coos.

“Mm,” Steve hums, sliding his arm around Billy’s middle again, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a long, content sigh.

Billy smiles to himself as he hears Steve’s breathing slow again, clearly doing as he was told.

It’s far too early for birthday boys to be awake, anyway.

[pagelets]

Lee Heeseung as your boyfriend:

"I'm tamed, I belong to you, I'm happier

My own version of 'I love you'

'I wanna belong to you' ".

Disclaimer: a bit suggestive, in general just Heeseung being a tease.

- Writes love songs about you:

• Since the moment Heeseung laid his eyes on you, you've become his inspiring muse.

• From a song about a mysterious girl he can't stop thinking about, to a song about a girl who is his entire future.

• Every time the two of you share a meaningful moment (and there are many), he can’t help but sit at his desk later and write a few lines about it.

- Late night snack time:

• Since Hee’s schedule always lasts until late at the night, he usually stays up late. And you keep him company, which means late night snacks.

• Everyone knows about his love for ramen, and you have to admit he influenced you too. The two of you watch your favorite TV show while eating the special ramen he makes for you.

- Makes everyday feel like the first time:

• If it depends on Heeseung, your relationship will never get old— this man is the personification of rizz.

• He flirts with you every day, buys you unexpected gifts, takes you to romantic dinners, and plans new dates regularly.

• "Watch me, Yn. I’ll make the honeymoon phase last forever”.

- Selfish:

• Selfish and jealous.

• He doesn’t like to share you with other men, even though he doesn’t forbid you from doing anything.

• But every time a guy stares at you too much or a male friend gets a little too comfortable around you, he gives you a mindblowing, breathtaking kiss on the lips in front of them, letting them know who you belong to.

- Hides skin because he's also all yours:

• Of course he’s Engene’s man, but at the end of the day, he’s your man.

• And since you’re so understanding and supportive of his career, his full schedules and long tours, he makes sure to return the favor by keeping his skin hidden, saving it just for you.

• You’re so grateful that you repays the gesture by showing a little more skin when you’re home together.

- Lets you sit on his lap while he plays video games:

• Even if you enjoy playing games, sometimes you just want to sit on the couch and cuddle with your boyfriend.

• But he loves gaming and you don’t want to keep him from it. So, Hee found the perfect solution: he pulls you onto his lap— whether you're straddling him, sitting sideways, or leaning back against his chest— and holds you close while he easily beats someone else’s ass in the game.

• You even lazily cheer for him while resting in his arms.

- Matching pajamas:

• It might sound cheesy, but what’s more attractive than Lee Heeseung wearing Hello Kitty pants?

• He first bought them for you as a joke on your 1st anniversary, but you loved it so much that since then, buying matching pjs has become your thing.

• It’s like you two become one when you cuddle in bed at night.

- Texts you even with a busy schedule:

• No man is too busy to text you in the middle of the day and Lee Heeseung is living proof of this.

• He might have a busy idol schedule, but that doesn’t stop him from quickly grabbing his phone between practices to check on you.

• He’ll ask how you’re doing, if you’ve eaten, tell you he misses you, and that he can’t wait to get home. Sometimes, he might even send something a little naughty— if he’s missing you in that way, you know.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

Jay version

Ni-ki version

Sunghoon version

[star-centric]

Pink Camellia (Longing for You) || Nanami

MEANING: “Pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone and is given to someone who is missed. Whether it's a friend who you haven't seen in a while or a romantic partner working away for a few days, pink camellias can be sent to both platonic and romantic relationships.”

A/N: I still love Nanami 💛 reader is gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“I’ll be back soon enough.”

Nanami held a soft smile, one that would seem out of place for where he was at currently. The mission he was sent on had him on the other side of the globe, hundreds and thousands of miles away from you. You would send selfies and pictures of mundane things that you were doing or would do together, and while it satiated him for a few moments, it made him miss you more.

It was funny, he was more worried about you being by yourself and feeling alone, yet here he was, counting down the days where he would be able to hold you again. It sounded like you were doing a lot better than he was at dealing with the circumstances.

“I know, get some rest okay? I love you Kento.”

His heart pulled at the sound of your voice, and he imagined you in your shared bed, saying those same words while cradling him, pressing a loving kiss to his lips. It gave Nanami all the push to hurry up and get this mission over with so he could hurry back to you.

“I love you too.”

——-

You missed Kento, so much.

You tried to put on a brave face when your husband first told you that he was leaving— you knew the type of job he had, and that he was risking his life every time he walked out of the front door. But it didn’t help knowing that he would be gone for so long.

All you could do was support him the best you could, even if it left you worrying every time he was gone. You tried to busy yourself and keep your mind off of the worst case scenario— even sending him photos to stay optimistic, even if he didn’t respond right away. No matter how many blankets you wrapped around yourself, the bed still felt cold without your husband. You found yourself hugging his pillow on the worst nights, his scent already fading as you dreamt of Ijichi at your door, a solemn look on his face.

Those would be the hardest nights, waking up in a cold sweat with tears down your cheeks.

You would try to avoid those thoughts, but it only became more frequent the longer Kento was gone. The bags under your eyes began to match his, which didn’t go unnoticed— but you weren’t going to complain. You weren’t the one risking your life fighting curses, he was.

You would wait for your husband no matter how long it took.

You just wanted him to come home safe.

——-

You hadn’t heard from Kento in days.

You kept rereading his last message, finger shakily scrolling on the screen.

You were finally drifting into another dreamless sleep, phone loosely held when you heard a knock on the door.

Your stomach dropped, the sense of dread sinking down to your feet as you anxiously dragged yourself to the door. The blanket wrapped around you was suppose to act like comfort, but it only did in the sense of preparing for the inevitable. It was cold, sucking the warmth it did have from before out of it.

You cracked open the door, already wanting to cry out when you see flowers.

Peach petals filled your vision, their smell wafting into your nose. The blanket around your shoulders fell, tears already prickling in your eyes.

Kento stood tall, half of his face wrapped with bandages and his arm in a sling, a soft smile lining his face. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when you shot into his arms, already sobbing into his chest.

He held you just as tight, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, whispering just how much he missed you.

[fallininlust]

( IV ) DECEMBER EIGHTH

♱ — BIRDS OF A FEATHER ( WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER ) !

pair. sturn triplets x gn!reader genre. pure fluff, found family trope

word count : [ 2.3k ]

description : genuine support / the art of finding your people / very expressive love and affection for friends / christmas trees / isles of ornaments / wrapping paper crinkling / littered gift bows / tape galore / santa hats / layered warmth / cuddle piles / affectionate hugs / and pure platonic love

Gently, gently make room for happiness at last.

Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959 !

The key felt heavy in your hand.

You knew they’d told you to use it whenever you needed, to go into their home whenever you wanted because you were basically family, but you still felt like you were intruding. It was not your home, you constantly felt like you didn’t belong within their trio. But that was just your overthinking. They always told you they loved you like you were another one of their siblings. They adored you endlessly, hence why you had a key to their home in Los Angeles anyway.

Still, you were coming to terms with the fact that Nick had even given you a key in the first place. You remembered that day so well.

The three of them had sat you down, them across from you in their living room — the situation had resembled an intervention. And it was. Sort of. They’d told you again and again to make yourself at home, and you did! … After a few hours of being there. And when you’d return another day, the process started over again. So, with hopes that you’d finally catch on, they sat you down.

Nick had held his hand out, the shiny silver startling you. “This is f’you.”

You’d blinked rapidly. “Huh?” It was all you could manage to breathe out.

“It’s a key to this place, kid.” Matt had given you the slightest bit of context, but you were still so confused and your face said it all.

Despite himself, Chris had let out a chuckle, rolling his lips into his mouth when everyone’s gaze shot to him. “I didn’t mean to laugh, I’m sorry, but look—” he nodded toward your expression with another snicker. “—can’t help it.”

Your gaze had turned back to the more serious of the two triplets, breathing in slowly as you attempted to process what they were doing. “You guys,” you started to echo what they’d told you, “are giving me a key to your place?”

“Hey,” Chris started to feel bad when he’d noticed your genuine disbelief, “you’re here more than you’re at your own apartment, kid. Why shouldn’t we give you a key?”

“Exactly!” Matt had nodded, reaching over Nick to pat his younger brother’s shoulder. “Besides, even when we do go back to Mass’, you’re the one who house sits for us. It makes sense for you to have your own way in now.”

Nick had scoffed in agreement, looking incredibly nonchalant — he felt it was something insignificant, the complete opposite of what you were feeling. “It’s been long overdue.”

���I just—” your eyes started to sting, water building in the corners. You sniffled, quickly wiping the stray tear.

“Woah, hey.” Chris had almost cooed, feeling his own waterline start to flood, and standing up to sit next to you. “Don’t cry, ‘cause I’ll cry, dude.”

“Sorry, it’s …” you’d shaken your head slowly, feeling silly for tearing up over a measly key. But it meant so much more to you than that. You reached out to take the key Nick had for you, holding it so tentatively like it was going disappear and you wanted to cherish it for the time being. You felt an arm wrap around you, pulling your head onto his shoulder. Chris was holding you close against him, understanding your train of thought but being unable to verbalize comfort for you — he’d never been good with words. “I’m sorry.” You choked out through your tears.

Immediately, all three triplets had begun to shush you, each of them having some sort of hold on you as they comforted you through your vulnerable moment, and that only made you clutch the key so much tighter.

When your cries had turned to sniffles, they knew they could pull away. They’d looked at you with a new sense of softness, and the fondness that’d always been there seemed to triple in size.

They adored you to bits.

And you felt the exact same about them.

But still, the key seemed to weigh down the carabiner on your hip.

So, you knocked the three times you normally did. You heard the footsteps inside, but you also heard them halt right in front of the door.

“Nuh-uh.” You heard Nick say, maybe to his brothers? — yes, to his brothers. “We gave them a key for a reason.”

Chris seemed to be in agreement. “He’s right.” Then he projected his voice louder, so you could hear him clearer. “If you wanna’ come in, ya’ gonna’ have to use the key, kid.”

“Fuck you.” You replied without any heat, tentatively unhooking your carabiner to single out the key to their home. The key they’d decorated for you after a month or two of you having it, hoping to entice you into using it.

You heard his cackle through the door, rolling your eyes. You clenched your jaw slightly, still feeling like an intruder when you put the key in and twisted. You glared at them, albeit playfully, when they cheered as you opened the door slowly — pulling the key back with your arm.

Matt’s tired eyes greeted you with a smile to match them. “Can we go shoppin’ now?”

You deadpanned. “Y’all couldn’t have stepped out in the first place?”

“Hey!” Matt immediately went defensive. “I tried to get ‘em out the door the second we heard the fuckin’ knocks, but they refused. Don’t—”

“Alright, enough!” Nick snapped and pushed past both of his brothers to lock arms with you, pulling you ahead to walk with him. “God, they’re so fuckin’ annoying.”

Chris jogged forward, wrapping his arm around your neck, pulling you closer toward him in a headlock, and shaking you playfully in greeting.

Immediately you shoved your elbow into his rib cage, smiling when he groaned in pain and pulled away from you to rub at his sore side. A loud chuckle escaped you when he glared at you for what you had done.

Matt followed behind the three of you sluggishly, still half asleep.

Your eyes cast over to him with a bit of concern. “Matt, d’you want me to drive?”

“Nah, I can—” he was cut off by his own yawn. He pursed his lips sheepishly when you arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. “If … if you want to, I guess.”

You wordlessly lifted a hand, silently asking for him to toss you the keys. You would’ve offered your car, but it was smaller than their SUV, and you didn’t know how much was going to be bought. Their car had more storage for the potential mess of items they were going to inevitably spend their money on.

When you started the engine, you turned your head to face the passenger. “Where we headed to first?”

Before Matt could answer, Nick interrupted with his clapping hands. “I’m so excited to decorate together!” He went as far as reaching forward to repeatedly tap your shoulder.

“Me, too, Nick.” A breathless laugh escaped your lips at his evident joy.

“You have a Costco membership, right, kid?” Matt was quick to spit out the question before anyone could interrupt him again.

An impulsively startled bark of laughter left you, contagious enough for Chris to cackle along with you. “Random ass fuckin’ question, dude.” You saw the way he deadpanned from the corner of your eye, so you stifled your grin. “Yeah, I do. The fuck d’you wanna’ know that for?”

He shrugged lightly. “They got good Christmas trees.”

You looked into the rearview mirror, finding the other two triplets’ gazes. The three of you shared over dramatically disbelieving looks before you quickly focused back on the road.

Even the parking lot of the warehouse store was overwhelming, which meant the inside was so much worse. Nick and Chris flourished in the chaos, chatting among themselves as they walked ahead of the cart you were pushing. You and Matt looked around warily, sticking together with tense shoulders at the loud noises and constant flow of people surrounding every inch of the store.

Once Matt got a little bit more comfortable with some encouragement from his younger brother, he relaxed into his normal self. He jokingly picked up random items, making lewd comments amount the bulked sizes that Chris would chortle about. You could only roll your eyes at their antics, hiding your own amusement by biting your lip. Breathless laughs left your lips when Nick would reprimand them for it, looking around dramatically with wide eyes.

“You’re gonna’ get us kicked out, you idiots!” Nick hissed at them, tone sharp. There was no real heat behind his words though, just enough warning to make the younger two quiet down.

After many items picked up and placed in the cart as well as slapped wrists and items returned to their rightful places, the four of you had managed to find the Christmas trees.

The tall, perfect pines stood tall among the vast of packaged furniture for sale.

Chris’ eyes widened with childish wonder as he stared up at the trees, a similar glint shining in them. “Which one do we buy?”

“What color decorations do y’all plan on buyin’?” You countered. “If ya’ goin’ red, green, and gold, I’d say get the green tree. But if ya’ feelin’ blue and silver, the white tree’s better.”

Nick hummed, nodding in complete agreement.

Matt narrowed his eyes in contemplation as he stared at the trees intensely. “I feel like we all prefer silver. And it’s not like any of our actual furniture at home’s got gold at all. Maybe we should go blue and silver?”

“I dunno’,” Nick voiced his disagreement to the idea, “I feel like we should go traditional wit’ red, green, gold since it’s our first Christmas decorating our own place.”

“We see traditional decorations back in Mass’ though, Nick. We could switch it up and go silver here.” Chris agreed with Matt’s idea.

Suddenly, Matt turned to look at you. “I think you should decide, kid.”

“It’s not my house?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the abrupt attention.

The three of them stared at you blankly. Two years of friendship, one year of which you were at their house more often than not, six months of having a key to their place, and you still hadn’t gotten the message. Their house was your house.

You pursed your lips sheepishly at their stares. “… I think you should do blue and silver. It complements the interior better.”

Nick clapped proudly. “Thank you!”

Getting the big box in the van was a hassle, but you’d done it. Somehow it fit, so getting to the second location for actual decorations and ornaments was your next mission.

They’d suggested Target, but they were quickly shot down by you and your distaste for the company. Ultimately, the four of you had settled on Michael’s. They had amazing decor, and you were hoping to find some art supplies as well as wrapping paper for gifts.

Again, pushing the cart had been your job, so you told them you were going to find the things you needed while they chose out their decorations — all simple tasks, right?

Wrong.

By the time you’d found them again, they were arguing about ornaments.

You blinked at them a few times, sighing when they didn’t notice you.

“Boys!” You snapped, effectively shutting them up. They looked at you sheepishly when you glared at them for all the noise they’d been making. “Move.” You huffed and pushed them out of the way, looking through the decorations.

Much like the tree and the color combination for the house, you’d chosen the ornaments, the garlands, the tree topper, the house decor, the wreath, and the wrapping paper.

The four of you walked in silence to the register, the triplets blushing profusely in embarrassment when you apologized to the cashier for their loud noise as the employee rang up the items.

On the walk to the car, Nick’s eyes lit up before they dulled slightly — a lightbulb turning on then off. “We should’ve filmed this.”

You immediately shot him a startled look at the idea. “I woulda’ kept my ass home.”

“You’re no fun.” He huffed.

With a full car, and happy hearts, you drove back to their place with a content smile.

♱

Actually decorating the place had been a slight hassle simply because no one could agree. You tried your best to stay out of the arguments, obliging to their decisions because, again, you felt it wasn’t your place to decide. But when they’d turn to look at you expectantly, three sets of eyes narrowing when you’d hesitate, you figured it was only right to give your input.

It also took a lot longer than expected to finish the task. The sun had set hours ago, the darkness of night glaring through the open windows.

With a steadying sigh, you placed the silver star at the top of the white tree before you pulled away to admire your handiwork. When you backed away from the tree, a body barreled into you at full speed from behind. Your body jolted slightly, but quickly relaxed when you realized who it was.

Chris.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, his body practically vibrating with excitement as he stared at the fully decorated home before him. You reached an hand up to grasp at his forearm, keeping him there.

Before you knew it, Nick was on your other side. He slowly melted against you, leaning his head on your shoulder that was covered by Chris’ elbow. You tentatively leant your head against Nick’s.

The last to join the makeshift hug was Matt. He stood on the other side of his younger brother, standing similarly to his older brother on your side. Silently, you both reached out to each other, intertwining your hands for more comfort.

The four of you stood before a house turned home — a lived in, cozy, and welcoming home.

Your smile turned shaky, quivering with the realization that dawned upon you.

All you’d ever wished for on Christmas Eve nights was a home. And here you’d found it with three boys whose hearts were made of gold.

icarus inquires . . .

i’m ngl, i didn’t ever think i’d finish these lmao. finals got to me and i wanted to kms, so i fully gave up. but i’m back and determined. enjoy <3

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[broidobe]

𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰, 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

requested by 🐊🕸!!! IT'S BEEN SO LONG I MISSED YOUR REQUESTS SO MUCHHHHHH!!!!

☾when dave notices his girlfriend struggling with self-harm urges, he gently comforts her, reminding her that she’s never alone and that she can always reach for him instead☽

☾warnings: mentions of self-harm urges, emotional distress, themes of comfort and support.☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚metallica masterlist

it was supposed to be one of those nights where you could just smile through it, push the thoughts away, let them simmer under the surface until they faded into the background. but dave? he always noticed.

it was in the way you curled your fingers into your palms, the way you kept shifting your sleeves down, fidgeting like you had something to hide. he was across the room, tuning his guitar, but his sharp blue eyes flicked up—just for a second.

and then he was watching.

he didn’t say anything right away. dave was never the type to come at things head-on, not when it was something this fragile. instead, he set his guitar down, stretching like he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, then strolled over, hands slipping into his pockets.

“whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” he asked casually, but his voice was softer than usual.

you shook your head. “just… tired.”

his brow furrowed slightly. he didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to push—not yet. instead, he sat down next to you on the bed, close enough that his warmth pressed against your side.

“c’mere,” he murmured, tugging gently at your sleeve.

you hesitated. the weight in your chest twisted tighter, and your first instinct was to hide. but dave was patient. he just sat there, one arm resting loosely around your waist, waiting.

eventually, you let out a slow breath and shifted closer. his arm tightened around you instantly, pulling you flush against his chest.

his hand found yours, rough calloused fingers brushing over your knuckles. “y’know,” he murmured, voice low, “i used to feel like that, too.”

you swallowed. “like what?”

his thumb traced over your wrist absentmindedly. “like i didn’t have any other way to get the bad shit out.”

you stiffened slightly, but he didn’t let go. didn’t pull away. just held your hand like it was something precious.

“it helped, for a while,” he admitted. “but it didn’t fix anything. just gave me a new set of scars to carry around.”

you stared down at his fingers, rough from years of guitar playing, from surviving.

“what does help?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head, pressing his lips against your temple. “this,” he said simply. “holding you. reminding you that you don’t have to do this alone.”

the lump in your throat nearly choked you.

his free hand came up, running slow, steady fingers through your hair. “whenever you feel like this… talk to me, okay? doesn’t have to be words. just come to me. i don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, if i’m in the studio, if i’m halfway across the fuckin’ planet—i want you to reach for me before you reach for anything else.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in his chest. he smelled like old leather, faded cologne, and something safe.

he held you tighter.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe it.

[folkwhoreberry]

I completely understand if you’re not comfortable writing this but I wanted some pregnant!reader x luke castellan fluff pls 🥺

One Of Me Is Cute, But Two Though?

luke castellan x reader

or... the one where you’re the lucky ones

word count : 873

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

🗡️🪽

you’ve been having a hard time adjusting to the whole being pregnant thing. it wasn’t exactly like the demigod life was suited for sitting around with swollen ankles and a rapidly expanding belly, but you were doing your best. well, you and luke, to be fair. luke had been your rock, even though neither of you expected to find yourselves in this situation so soon.

“you sure you don’t want me to carry you?” luke asked, grinning as you waddled slightly behind him. his golden hair caught the afternoon sun, and despite the heat, he still looked effortlessly good. annoying, right?

“I’m fine,” you replied, a little breathless but determined to maintain some semblance of independence. “I’m five months pregnant, not helpless.”

he turned to you, eyebrows raised in amusement. “you’re waddling.”

you shot him a glare, but it was softened by the playful smirk on his face. “I’m not waddling, I’m… adjusting to my center of gravity.”

luke laughed, stepping back to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you walked through the long hallway of your home. “okay, okay. you’re adjusting. but I still think you look cute waddling.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. luke always had a way of making you feel like you were glowing, even when you felt like a swollen balloon. his teasing wasn’t mean-spirited; it was always gentle, filled with affection.

“what do you think we’re having?” you asked suddenly, glancing up at him as you leaned against his side. luke’s hand automatically dropped to rest on your bump, his thumb tracing small circles.

“hmm…” he pretended to think deeply, narrowing his eyes. “I’m betting on a future hero. someone strong and clever - just like their mom.”

you snorted. “strong and clever? please, they’ll be all sass like their dad.”

luke grinned, not missing a beat. “you mean charming and irresistible? yeah, that sounds about right.”

you swatted at him lightly, though it didn’t stop him from pulling you closer for a quick kiss to the top of your head. “we’re going to have our hands full, aren’t we?” you murmured.

“probably,” he admitted, though there was no trace of worry in his voice. if anything, he sounded excited. “but hey, we’ve faced worse. monster attacks, angry gods… what’s one little demigod baby?”

you chuckled. “just one little demigod baby, right? that’s assuming they don’t have the gods’ temper.”

luke grinned mischievously. “well, if they do, we’ll just make sure to bribe them with cookies. demigods love cookies.”

“cookies solve everything,” you agreed, leaning more heavily against him as the two of you approached the kitchen. “speaking of cookies, I could really go for one.”

“just one?” luke asked, giving you a teasing look. “because, I mean, I could grab a whole plate if you want. no judgment.”

you glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “are you implying that I’m going to eat a whole plate of cookies by myself?”

he grinned. “not implying, stating.”

you stared at him, lips pursed, before shrugging. “you’re right. bring me the whole plate.”

luke’s laughter echoed as he left your side to grab the cookies, and you settled yourself onto the couch with a sigh. pregnancy wasn’t easy, but moments like these, when you could relax and joke around with luke, made it bearable - or dare you say, even enjoyable. it helped that luke was always doting on you, always ready to offer support (and snacks).

he returned a moment later, a plate of cookies in hand and a glass of milk balanced in the other. “for my queen,” he said with a dramatic bow, placing the plate and glass in front of you.

“you’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. “otherwise I’d think you were trying to fatten me up.”

“you’re perfect,” he said, eyes soft as he sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “and don’t worry, you’ve got a long way to go before I have to start rolling you around the house.”

you glared at him, cookie crumbs falling onto your lap. “wow, thanks for that image.”

he chuckled, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your cheek. “just saying, you look beautiful no matter what. even if you’re waddling.”

you leaned into his kiss, warmth spreading through you. “flattery will get you anywhere,” you muttered, though your tone was fond.

“oh, I know,” luke said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. he shifted slightly so he could rest a hand on your bump again, his touch gentle and warm. “hey, little one, you hear that? your mommy’s the best. you’re gonna be really lucky.”

“lucky?” you scoffed. “this kid’s going to have you for a dad. of course they’re lucky one.”

luke glanced down at you, his eyes softening. “nah,” he said quietly. “I’m the lucky one.”

and with that, you leaned into his warmth, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as you shared the peaceful moment. monsters, gods, and the chaotic life of a demigod could wait. right now, it was just you, luke, and the little life growing between you.

————————————————————————————

a/n : craving cookies can you tell

[byte-babe]

Bullworth, After Hours

Characters - Pete Kowalski/Eleanor Kowalski

Summary - Pete's summer self-discovery.

Word Count - 901

Warnings - N/A

A/N - This is a sneak peek of a fanfic I'm working on (still reworking the first chapter). If you have any feedback or chapter suggestions (because i have no idea where this can lead to) let me know !! ^^

Summer break for Pete Kowalski had been eventful to say the least; now that he had accepted his new found self.

He came out to his parents a week into the break, telling them about all the little thoughts he’s been having since the 9th grade and how they’ve gradually gotten bigger and less easy to ignore.

Both of his parents are very loving and understanding people and have always shown support when it came to their child, so talking to them was a lot easier than Pete had anticipated.

He honestly expected his parents to call him crazy and shut the whole thing down since he had no idea where their views on the LGBT+ community stand, but they showed no signs of rejection. They didn’t really get it, which meant they’d have to do some research on the matter like Pete did before, but they agreed that they would do their best to understand and provide support.

It took a while for them learn more about the entire thing, but they eventually got it and even found a good gender-affirming consoler that he could see.

The first few minutes within the meeting were nerve-racking.

So many questions about who he was, what he wanted, and how he felt. Each question felt like it was peeling back a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, a strange relief.

He was told about HRT and how most male to female people who wanted to be more feminine use it to reduce the testosterone levels in their bodies and add in more estrogen, helping to align the person’s body with how they feel inside.

Pete never knew that there were ways a person could change their appearance other than surgery. It was very tempting, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take that big of a step yet.

The doctor suggested that he should start off with something and try other forms of self-expression that makes him more comfortable such as clothing, hair changes, or even makeup. And once he felt good about it all, then they could discuss about medical options.

During the second month of summer, Pete had spent his time experimenting with the ways he could express himself more in a more feminine way. He started with a name change and pronouns.

His mother suggested ‘Eleanor’ for a new name since it was the name she picked if she ended up having a girl.

Eleanor liked that name. She couldn’t explain why, but it just resonated with her.

As fun as it all was—spending long summer days with her mom and navigating the lifestyle of a girl, trying different clothes, using subtle makeup, and even being able to start HRT during the first few days of August— Eleanor had to go back to school.

The start of the school year was getting closer and closer with the heavy, burning weight of anxiety making itself at home in the bottom of Eleanor’s stomach.

She even asked— begged her parents to let her be homeschooled, but it was never up to debate, especially since she only had one year left of high school now.

Might as well just get it over with instead of going through a whole process of getting transferred to a homeschooling program.

This meant Eleanor had to enter Bullworth as someone different. Not only that, but she knew she might have to correct people when it came to her name and labels.

Maybe it would all be that bad, considering that she didn’t have much of a reputation there and people barley knew her name or who she was anyways.

Her and her parents talked to Dr. Crabblesnitch a week prior to the start of the school year about the changes.

Even though he wouldn’t, couldn’t, and shouldn’t admit to it, Eleanor could tell he wasn’t fond of the changes. Yet he had no choice but to oblige.

He would lose money if he did. That’s all he cared about.

With these new changes, Eleanor still resided in the boy dormitory. It wasn’t up to her, Crabblesnitch made that decision.

She couldn’t really be upset with that though, thinking that she wasn’t where she wanted to be in terms of looks, it was the safer choice.

She didn’t want to risk making the girls uncomfortable and would instead have to deal with whatever insults or harassments the boys would do to her.

She dealt with it before, so what would be the difference?

At least Gary wouldn’t be there. He’d just make her life a living hell.

She had been visiting him occasionally in Happy Volts over break— before she started using estrogen, so he had no idea about anything.

She never told him anything.

Why would she visit Gary anyways? The one mentally insane person who turned the entire school into a battlefield and against Jimmy just to fuel his narcissistic personality and own twisted desire for total control?

Because Eleanor was a compassionate person.

And— sad to admit it— but he was also the first friend she made when she came to Bullworth.

Whenever she did visit, he would be on an array of medication which made him oddly calm.

Still an asshole, but calm.

He never seemed to mind the company either; if Eleanor was correct, he looked as if he actually enjoyed it.

[sagethegaywitch]

My Transformers Canon

I plan to write some Transformers works soon so I just wanted to clarify my own personal Transformer canon. This is my own opinion so you don't have to agree with it, but I know the Transformers canon is a mess right now so I just wanted to make my own. It's heavily based on the Transformer Prime canon, but with my own twist.

D-16 (Megatron) was a miner, born into the role without any way to rise up.

Orion Pax (Optimus Prime) was studying under Alpha Trion, to become a scholar and his successor.

Ultra Magnus was a military man, working his way through the ranks at a shocking speed until he became the leader of the Wreckers.

Ratchet was a medical student who studied and practiced during the day, but at night worked at the gladiator pit as a field medic.

D-16 was approached by Senator Shockwave one day, given the opportunity to become a gladiator if he agreed to undergo bodiy modifications from the scientist.  D-16 agreed, rather dying for research than alone in the mines.

After his body was made into the ideal form of a leader and fighter, Shockwave gave D-16 the name Megatronus after one of the Primes to be his gladiator name.

Megatronus fought in the gladiator pits, quickly climbing up the ranks and winning all his fights because of his modifications.  He was a proud mech, believing that this is where he was meant to be and do for the rest of his life.  Megatronus only found one worthy competitor, Soundwave, and he trained endlessly to defeat him.

Orion spent most of his time in the Hall of Records in Iacon, researching and working with Alpha Trion.  That's how he met Ratchet one day, both having bumped into each other in the library.  Ratchet and Orion become unlikely friends, both helping each other research and working together during the long days.

One day Ratchet invites Orion to a gladiator fight because he has an extra ticket from his night work and Orion takes it gladly.  That is when Orion sees Megatronus for the first time, falling in love with the stronger mech.  Ratchet can see this, and while he does have feelings for Orion, he helps Orion meet Megatronus one day because of his access to the underground rooms of the gladiator pit.

Orion and Megatronus hit it off, talking about all sorts of things, but mostly their love for justice and the Matrix.  Eventually they get in a relationship, which leads to Ratchet distancing himself from the both of them, focusing more on his work and conversing with Shockwave over their research.

One day, Megatronus decides he wants to become the next Prime, bringing Orion to support him as he asks the council for the Matrix (There was no current Prime at the moment because there was no need for a leader. Megatronus wanted to reform Cybertron to make it a better place).  Of course it all goes wrong and the council is offended that Megatronus would ask such a thing, but they offer Orion the position because of his connection with Alpha Trion.

Megatronus is pissed, cursing out the council and vowing revenge.  Orion goes to comfort his lover as Megatronus storms out, but is stopped by Alpha Trion.  His mentor urges Orion to take the Matrix, saying that it is a great honor to be bestowed the creator of Primes.  Orion takes the opportunity, thinking that Megatronus could still stand by his side and they could lead together.  Orion takes the Matrix, becoming Optimus Prime, and the first thing he does is go off to find his lover.

Optimus could not find Megatronus though because his lover went into hiding to gather his allies and those who did not support the council and their corrupt behavior.  Megatronus changed his name to Megatron to shed his glory of being a gladiator and servant to the council.  He appointed Shockwave and Soundwave as his most loyal followers, finding Starscream and a few others along the way.

By the time Optimus finds Megatron, they have an argument.  Megatron thought that Optimus chose the Matrix over him while Optimus is trying to justify his reasoning.  It ends with the two breaking up and going their separate ways to lead their factions.

Megatron is heartbroken but can’t show it as he starts attacking cities, and Optimus gets reassured by Ratchet who supports him along with Ultra Magnus who they befriended when the war started.  At this point, Optimus starts a relationship with Elita-One, the leader of an all female warrior faction.

Eventually the war ravages Cybertron and the Deceptions managed to capture the planet. The Autobots have to flee the Cybertron with the AllSpark, the Decepticons close on their tails.  Shockwave stayed behind to manage the planet while the other Decepticons were gone, constantly battling it out with Elita-One and her warriors that decided to stay behind.

This leads all to the present day when Megatron and Optimus Prime fight it out on Earth, gaining younger and newer survivors (Bumblebee, Arcee, Knockout, Breakdown, etc.) and befriending the humans.

[andy-15-07]

If you're comfortable with it. How would Joel Miller, Javier peña, or Reed Richards react to their SO getting a breast reduction to help with their back pain? (You can pick one or all 3 i don't care.)

Relief and Love

PAIRING: Reed Richards x reader

WORD COUNT: 756 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The soft hum of the record player filled the room, a gentle jazz tune floating through the air as Reed Richards sat at his cluttered desk, tinkering with another one of his gadgets. The soft glow of the desk lamp highlighted the furrow in his brow, his mind deep in thought—until he heard the familiar creak of the floorboards behind him.

“Reed?” Your voice was soft, tentative.

He turned immediately, his sharp eyes softening the moment they met yours. You stood in the doorway, your hands nervously wringing the hem of your blouse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, setting down his tools and giving you his full attention. “Everything alright?”

You took a deep breath, stepping further into the room. “I… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His brows knitted slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

You sat down on the edge of his workbench, your eyes darting around the room as you searched for the right words. “I’ve been thinking about getting a breast reduction.”

Reed blinked, processing your words. His first instinct was worry—not about the surgery itself, but about you, your comfort, your happiness. He stood and crossed the room, his hands gently resting on your shoulders.

“Is it because of the back pain?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

You nodded, relief washing over you at his understanding. “Yeah. It’s been getting worse, Reed. I’ve tried everything—different bras, posture exercises, even those awful massages… but nothing helps.”

His eyes searched yours, and you could see the wheels turning in his brilliant mind. “I’m so sorry you’ve been in pain, darling. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve been so busy with your work, and with everything going on with the team…”

Reed shook his head, his hands sliding down to take yours. “You’re never a bother. You’re the most important part of my life. If this is what you want, if this will help you feel better, then I’ll support you every step of the way.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he was quick to brush it away, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, Reed.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He pulled back slightly, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Though, you know I’ll probably end up reading every medical journal on the procedure. Can’t have anyone else knowing more about it than me.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Dr. Richards.”

The day of the surgery came quicker than you anticipated. Reed insisted on driving you to the hospital himself, his hand never leaving yours as you checked in and waited to be called.

“You sure you’re not too busy to be here?” you teased, trying to mask your nerves.

Reed gave you a look, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

When the nurse finally called your name, Reed stood with you, walking you to the doors where only patients could go. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his voice low and reassuring.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

The surgery went smoothly, just as the doctors predicted. But when you finally woke up in recovery, the first thing you saw was Reed’s face, his eyes filled with relief and love.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“Hey,” you croaked, your throat dry but your heart full. “You stayed.”

“Of course I did.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” you admitted, “but… lighter.”

Reed chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you.”

The days following your surgery were filled with Reed’s tender care. He made sure you were comfortable, cooking your favorite meals, adjusting your pillows just right, and even reading to you when the pain made it hard to sleep.

“You’re spoiling me,” you murmured one evening, your head resting against his chest as he read from one of your favorite books.

“You deserve it,” he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

“I love you, Reed.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

And in that small, quiet moment, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you’d always have Reed Richards by your side—your partner, your love, your home.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 40

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1200

Masterlist

———————————————————————

It’s often said that you truly realize how much you love someone when they leave you, by the emptiness it creates.  

So yes, I loved Lucy, without a doubt.  

When she left, I was seized with spasms and uncontrollable sobs, feeling as though I was falling into an abyss.  

That night, I went to Alexia’s place. I explained everything to her, from beginning to end, pouring it all out in a flood of words, between tears.  

She was silent, listening, clearly shocked by what I was telling her. She hadn’t seen it coming. As a friend, she didn’t judge me, but held me gently, and gently scolded me for not telling her earlier.  

I stayed at her place that night, struggling to fall asleep, immersed in my dark thoughts.  

The next day, Lucy sent me a message. A message of formality, repeating what she had said the day before:  I care about you but...   I’m sorry for making you unhappy...  and the infamous  I hope you can forgive me.   

That same phrase I had said to Alessia a few months earlier. The irony of it all.  

The initial feelings of sadness and confusion were soon joined by anger and bitterness.  

I was angry at her, pure and simple. She had handled our relationship like one of her political cases. I had offered her time, the expression of my feelings, and what I truly felt. She had rejected me. And the fact that she kept insisting she made this decision  for me  drove me crazy. I had immense resentment toward her, which only grew.  

To try to forget all this, all the pain, all the frustration, and to try to forget her, I threw myself into work.  

I used to spend a lot of time in my office or on construction sites, but now, I spent all my time there, only going home to sleep.  

I had lost my appetite; I’m not one of those who eat excessively after a breakup like Bridget Jones. Instead, I just smoked more.  

 "Not in the office, Ona, and think about your lungs!"   

It was Alexia scolding me that Tuesday at noon as I was smoking a cigarette, busy sketching.  

She continued:  

 "Come on, I’m taking you out to lunch!"   

Alexia had been amazing with me over the past two weeks, supporting me, comforting me without being suffocating.  

 "I’m not hungry, I’ll eat something later!"   

 "Sure, sure! I know you! You won’t eat anything! I swear, if you don’t come with me right now, I’ll bring Jeanne’s bottle tomorrow and feed you by force!"   

I smiled and nodded, giving in.  

 "I didn’t tell you! I bumped into Lucy at the supermarket yesterday!"   

I looked up at her. Alexia continued:  

 "Well, she knows I know everything now, I think! I was with Jeanne in the same line as her, hard to miss her! She came up to me with a big smile, a little embarrassed. I wanted to tell her off so badly! But I just kept it cold..."   

I smiled to myself, imagining Alexia being cold. It didn’t suit her at all.  

 "How was she?"   

I blurted out the question without thinking.  

Alexia bit her lip.  

 "Maybe I shouldn’t have told you..."   

 "Don’t worry, Alexia, it’s fine..."   

Even though my heart was still raw.  

 "If it helps, she’s let herself go! I think she’s gained 20 kilos, and she had some fuzz on her coat, dressed in the most outdated tracksuit!"   

I laughed now. My Alexia, that ray of sunshine.  

That evening, Philippe showed up at the office. He had called over the weekend to ask if he could drop by.  

Philippe Arous was an old friend. We were neighbors when we were kids, and our parents were friends. They used to go on vacations together, so we spent a lot of time together even with our five-year age difference. He had studied journalism at Sciences Po and worked in Paris for several years. A political enthusiast, he moved back to his hometown to try his luck first as a advisor, then as mayor.  

He was quite a character—intelligent, cultured, altruistic, but also loud-mouthed, which could get him into trouble.  

He had asked me to join his campaign list in support for the latest elections, knowing of my involvement in associations. I enjoyed getting involved in concrete projects, especially when they were related to my city. That experience had been enriching, though it ended in a rather predictable loss to… Lucy.  

He arrived around 8 PM. I was alone in the office.  

I made him a coffee, and we talked about trivial things, before the subject turned to the elections:  

 "Have you heard that Lucy Bronze is running after all?"   

 "Yeah, yeah... I heard about it 15 days ago!"  I replied with a tired tone.  

 "What a surprise! This doesn’t really help our cause; she’s a political beast, that one... I’m fine-tuning my list now..."   

It’s quite a job, putting together a list.  

 "Is it going well?   

 "Yeah, we have to present it in a few days! Well, Ona, I’m here to ask if you’d like to join it! I didn’t want to at first, with the whole Mojito situation, since you were working on Lucy Bronze’s campaign too..."   

I was taken aback. He continued:  

 "But we talked about it with the team yesterday. They loved your personality, how you were involved even though you were just there in support! A real ray of sunshine, insightful and effective!"   

 "Uh... thanks..."   

I didn’t know how to respond.  

 "I’m offering you a spot on the list, possibly in an electable position if we win, and even possibly eligible if we lose with a good result. You could be a city councilor, or just be supportive if that’s too much for you!"   

This was the best! I was already dreading the election period, with Lucy’s giant posters all over the city. But this...  

I began to laugh nervously:  

 "I’m sorry, Philippe, I really can’t. I worked with Lucy for 6 months on that project, that’s enough for me!"   

I smiled inwardly at the double meaning of my words.  

 "Exactly, you know her well, and she doesn’t seem like someone you like!"   

He tried, as best he could, to convince me, listing all the arguments.  

 "Sorry, Philippe, it’s a no. But I wish you all the best of luck! I’m behind you, no doubt!"   

I wanted Lucy to lose the election, to have nothing but tears in her eyes. My resentment went that far.  

Philippe seemed disappointed as he left the office. Even if, under different circumstances, I would have jumped at the opportunity, the situation made it impossible.  

I returned to work, a new project downtown. That night, under my pencil strokes, I thought about Philippe’s offer, laughing at the irony of the situation.  

I imagined myself running in those elections, on that list. I pictured Lucy’s face, enraged and beside herself...  

Little by little, this possibility, which seemed impossible just an hour ago, took shape in my mind. Why not, after all? I wasn’t going to hold back for her!  

I grabbed my phone.  

 "Philippe? Yes, I’ve thought about it! I want in... What position? Electable!" 

[hplonesomeart]

Hey. Sorry about the inactivity, but pretty sure no one cared that much anyways lol. Been a looooong time since I kept that distant from Tumblr…at least now I know I’m able to survive without checking posts every day/being chronically online! I’ve got an intense love-hate relationship with this lifestyle I’ve dug myself into. Think I’m getting a little bit better with the balance even if school isn’t really giving me an option. Got a load of work I need to keep catching up on if I don’t want to disappoint my professors. We’ll survive somehow. Here take a quick batch of Puzzle doodles k bye

[aalt-ctrl-del]

people on the "Stella did nothing wrong train" often argue that Stella too, is vulnerable and traumatized by the situation she was placed, same as Stolas. And they make grievance that "fans are wrong for supporting Stolas in his time, and adoring bird prince, but condemn Stella even tho she's in the same sitch"

y'all are forgetting Exhibit A!

Teh reason why fan are loving and supporting Stolas, and condemn Stella as the toxic bitch, is because Stolas - despite his circumstances - has tried to make this arrangement he has with his (ex)-former wife as comfortable and pleasant as possible. He has been nothing but kind, if not distance and perhaps respectful of her needs and desires - it is implied in the first episode and the childhood one, that he was tolerant and patient with Stella, despite her broadcasted hate for him, and her boastful claims that he was worthless as a Goitia.

A person can be hurt, traumatized, resentful, damaged by the circumstances of their birth and the legacy they are meant to inherit - it never gives them the right to torment and destroy someone else. It is never excusable for that person to hate and continue hurting someone who has done nothing but the best that could be done, in those situations. Stolas might have inherited a broken, preprogrammed hate monger, but he made the effort to extend compassion and kindness and make a home for that person; the response of one who is given the opportunity to do better, recover, or even reevaluate who they are and where they come from was squandered and destroyed - which seems to be Stella's go to method of internalizing her spite and anger for the world. She destroys everything good. She strangled a bunch of hellhound pups, or whatever those crechures were in the picture of her as a child.

Stella is actually a very deep and complicated character if you really look at her and her reactions to those around her. She does not appreciate her daughter, she despises Stolas (who she views as weak and pathetic, and a disgrace), and she is shallow as all fuck. Which has made her the person she is. And it is her own choice to behave and react in such a way, despite her privilege, despite her access to help and happiness (Stolas is medicated, and working on himself). But Stella is completely satisfied with who she is, and has no regard for others; which hurts those that would love her, or at the minimal could appreciate her company. If Stolas was a pompous and arrogant monster, like we thought he was in the pilot, STELLA STILL WOULDN'T BE HAPPY. Nothing would make her happy. Because her character type is one that intentionally destroys and hurts those around her, because she has unaddressed resentment for her circumstances.

But no amount of help or love, or extended support will fix her. Because Stella is not interested in fixing herself, or being a better person. Because she is perfectly happy with who she is, hurting others, because that right there is what gives her life purpose.

*yeets the mic*