#i need this out there. i need the words to exist. i'll die if they don't

[charmedimsure]

Wake Up Call

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

<>

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

<>

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.

[yolothh]

Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!

Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.

Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).

All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.

He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.

In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".

Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.

The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.

Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.

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

Ranieri, Naples, 1833:

"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:

"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:

" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"

And more:

"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"

In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:

"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"

Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:

"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"

--

So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.

--

Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:

Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place

Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie

Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character

Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi

[willow-schmillow]

i don't think people were meant to understand their childhoods and see their parents as people. i don't. i don't think people are meant to see them as anything but infallible, perfectly just, correct gods, who were right, who were right, who were always right

they were meant to be five years old and confused and sad because why is mommy hurting me but okay with it, okay with it, strangely, painfully, because they are five years old and this is what they know and they don't have to know anything else.

they weren't meant to know mommy has ptsd (she tells you about her childhood and you think that sounds so sad but you don't understand ptsd and trauma and the pain she is in, okay?). they weren't meant to think mommies are supposed to be nicer than this. they weren't meant to say i am choosing to forgive my mom because i love her and want her in my life because of course they love their mommy. they're five years old. it was never in question.

they were meant to be five years old living the worst years of their lives over and over again not understanding that it can be different, never tasting anything other than pain, going to sleep until it was time to hurt again, dreaming pain and being pain, another wound inflicted but they were so used to it that it became okay because this is what living is. this is what living is.

they were meant to be five years old locked in a closet, a tiny closet, full of guts and blood and dog shit and the mangled remains of their own child body, an impossibly tall ceiling (they are five years old. when is the last time you've seen a five-year-old? they're so small. they're so small. they're so small.) they were meant to never leave, never open that door, never wake up at ten and twelve and and and and—

people weren't meant for this. it hurt, you know? i know you do. there are worse things than pain.

i think the absence is killing me.

[medicinemane]

Honestly a lot of the time, it's not even about people having to agree with me, it's about needing to know that they actually heard and listened to what I had to say even if it didn't persuade them

Just... some basic indication that there's enough respect to give a shit about what I said, and also to make sure that they disagree because they actually disagree and not cause they just didn't bother listening

It's all I really ask

[yikes-ajax-thats-sad]

I love waiting eagerly for the weekend so people wont be busy or will be home and then. Still ending up all alone :D

[piggycyberwarrior]

Ekko SWF-Alphabet

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

!not proof read!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ekko is the type of boyfriend that would constantely pepper your face with kisses. He knows how easily people can die- can be killed- so he tries to shower you with affection.

He likes to show you how much he loves you, because he is kinda confused with words. He is a warrior- a leader, not a big talker? he tries tho.

I would say he is pretty affectionate but mostly behind closed doors. As i said- he's a leader, he shouldn't be smooching his girl next to the firelights... he thinks its inappropriate. But in a calmer, more softer setting- boii he's all over you!!

B = Bribe (Can you bribe him?)

Yes and No.

Ekko is loyal as fuck. He would never EVERR betray the ones dear to his heart. But small and unnecessary things like

"Okay.. would you come with me if i give you one- no TWO kisses?"

Yeah. nope he would immediately jump off the couch and sprint towards you. He doesn't play there..

He kinda sees it as a payment...

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I PERSONALLY think that Ekko likes Hugs way more than cuddles. I'll explain:

You know that one hug that hits so good? Nose burried in their neck- inhaling their scent- arms tight around the person after you saw them finally- FINALLY again and all these emotions are put in that hug.

^ He loves that so much when he comes home, tired from a mission

That doesn't mean he does not like Cuddles. I think Ekko loves to lay his head onto your Chest/boobies all the time. crushing you under his weight and laughing when you grumble because of his stupid antics

or being the big spoon (like almost never the little spoon- only when he needs comfort). he loves it that he can make you feel safe in his arms

He likes to nap while cuddling but i think he doesn't really like to sleep at NIGHT when cuddling. That! man! needs! his! space!! (Napping while cuddling is okay idk why??)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes he really wants to settle down with you somewhere safe and sound- a place that doesn't exist now, unfortunately. Thats why he works so hard. maybe he can give you that home you deserve someday.

That man is a COOK. Full ass GORDON RAMSAY like its not even normal??? He even enjoys it- apron on, humming a little melody while making breakfast for the two of you.

he loves to help you at home even tho he barely has time between eating , sleeping and his duties. But you don't mind. he asks some of his people to help you out if you really need help with the chores.

is kinda shitty at cleaning- kinda never learned to do it... i mean he grew up in Zaun.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I'm sorry but like i said he is kinda shitty with words so he tries to rip the bandaid off real quick by breaking up through text/letters...

He doesn't really feel good about it too- feels like an asshole to be honest but he can't help it :(

if they wanted to talk about it though- he tries

he is okay with the fact that you hate him because of his break-up-style

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Ekko is a little bit scared? of commitment. He kinda doesn't wanna be "caged"- he feels as if his freedom has been pushed into a box, but in reality he just needed to find the right person.

I think Ekko needs some time to really REALLY settle with the fact that he loves his s/o and that can take some time.

But oh boi when it happens- he wants to marry you immediately!! Like mentioned he knows that life is short- so he tries to marry you as quick as possible.

But he understands it if you need time to think about it or aren't ready yet.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ekko's kinda rough around the edges as he grew up in a rough atmosphere. Sometimes his grip is too strong- his attempts to tickle you can hurt a bit and his hands are calloused as well.

But in the end he never wants to hurt you and is extremely gentle towards you as much as he can

he is so much gentler to you than to anyone else. always makes sure you aren't stressed or anything like that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.Yes.Yes!! he loves hugs like mentioned earlier. It just fits better into his lifestyle as he can quickly but passionately hug you before or after a mission and can also do that in public. he cannot cuddle you outside on the street :/

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not that fast. Boi has some serious trust issues and you probably have to initiate the big ol' L-Word. When he finally says it- he will never stop saying it.

He willl always shower you with 'I love you's' and expects you to also say it back. he's just a sucker for that simple sentence even tho he was kinda wary of the concept of love

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Doesn't get jealous. Just doesn't, he trusts you completely. Period.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

His kisses are like him. Sweet but passionate, as well as a sprrrinkle of roughness.

he loves the traditional way of kissing you. on the lips. he is addicted to the taste of them on his and can kiss you till dawn. (he doesn't mind that you call him a simp)

He also loves to give you small pecks on your face but mostly the side of your head when you did something cute or stupid.

Always has his hands on you when you kiss- either on your throat, back or waist.

Also grins into kisses like ahhhrgcvszdc PLEASE

L = Little ones (Would he like to have Children?)

Loves children- I mean he keeps them save in the HQ too like what did you expect...

Would also love to have children when he's older.. kinda a dream of his. Probably 3 kids. Is still okay with it if you don‘t like to have kids- respects it!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

i kind of have the feeling that dis man is such a morning grouch :/ soooorry

like he always wants to sleep more (in other words- has a fucked up sleep schedule)

Still he loves it when you kiss him awake- and he would always and i mean ALWAYS!! roll on top of you and squish you under him with a laugh before pressing kisses on your face and getting up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

OHH THAT BITCH IS A NIGHT OWL. He is always so much goofier at nighttime (you know that weird 3am energy?? Exactly)

He likes it when you are sitting on his lap at night though, while he is fiddling at some prototype. Your fingers lazily playing with his dreads while he nuzzled himself onto your shoulder while working

Its a mix of both energy’s- late snack runs or slow evenings.

ALSO LOVES TO SLOW DANCE WITH YOU IN THE KITCHEN AT NIGHT!!!!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As i said, he takes his time to fully trust you. If you grew up together- he would‘ve probably told you a lot of things already. If you didn‘t- he is kinda hesitant to tell you at first. I think he would start revealing things about himself after a good few months of dating. He takes his time with those things

still he will always listen when you have something to tell him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It depends. When he is frustrated- his patience is very thin- but when he is in his normal mood- it’s out of gold

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. It is truly getting creepy. He knows everything???

birthday, likes, dislikes, all the family gossip you told him one day- even remembering all of your family member’s names, favorite book, favorite hyperfixation at the moment, favorite place- everything you mentioned to him once.

lol he laughs everytime you think he forgot something and he proves you wrong- you‘re just like:🧍‍♀️

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

that one hot ass summer night were you were both almost naked (nothing seggsual) - sweating like a pig- window wide open- not able to sleep and just talking bout shit. -> leading to you telling him you love him.

He didn‘t mind the humid heat in the end. Just feeling so happy.

always remembers that moment and feels giddy when there is a hot summer night…

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

He loves it when you defend him verbally. He can fight- and doesn‘t want you to hurt yourself in the process- but seeing you argue with someone for him is making his heart race.. <3

like i said he doesn‘t get jealous but is neverthless protective. He knows that Zaun is fucking dangerous- also knows that you can protect yourself but he wants to keep any harm from you..

always being your guard dog and even fighting people that bitch at you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

I think he always gets you something when he‘s in Piltover- books or small things that you like..

He likes to have dates in the privacy of your home- nothing extraordinary…. I am SO SORRY BUT THIS MAN ISN‘T A FAN OF ANNIVERSARIES!! He just doesn‘t get the point?? For him everyday is an anniversary.

He still plans the home dates (puts a lot of effort in the planning part)- and everytime you do something new fun!!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Nail Biting, Workaholic, Insomnia, such a gossip girl 😭 its funny tho.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

That Man is proud!!! He worked so much, trained so much did everything to become the person he is- loves his muscles and is kinda concerned how he looks

(Have you seen that man? Face paint on the spot- dreads styled like that and always revealing that yummy bicep..)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes- next question

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

100% a cat person. He loves them but will never admit it. When he first saw one as a kid- he begged Benzo to let him adopt it. Still visits it‘s grave. Kinda has a fur allergy but he doesn‘t care 💀

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

hates hates HATES it when his partner is rude or disrespectful for no reason. (Sure, its a different story when you are getting shit on) but he just finds it so bad when you insult someone for no reason (and mean it)

has no problem when you playfully call someone (him) an idiot tho…

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is a kicker. Like bitch, stop kicking me in the ribs while sleeping 😭. Also wakes up with his head at your feet- turns around a lot. Just an active sleeper here…

you on the other hand get many bruises from his kicking…. I am so sorry

[calisources]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me? 

 will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross. 

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start. 

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. 

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

 That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide. 

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare. 

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken  from  furiosa: a mad max story  (2024),  directed  by  george  miller.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.  ) 

❛ as the world falls around us, how must we brave its cruelties? ❜

❛ we should go back now. ❜

❛ i'll come with you. ❜

❛ the stars be with you. ❜

❛ who's coming for us? ❜

❛ who do we have here? ❜

❛ what do they call you? ❜

❛ now, you have had a hard day, haven't you? you must be exhausted. ❜

❛ there's only one thing i need you to do and that is rest. ❜

❛ you don't have to say a word, i promise. ❜

❛ tomorrow, i'll take you home. ❜

❛ keep an eye on her, keep her safe. ❜

❛ you're bleeding. ❜

❛ i'm not gonna leave you. ❜

❛ whatever you have to do, however long it takes, promise me you’ll find your way home. ❜

❛ no, no, no. don’t look away. we mustn’t look away. ❜

❛ why would you run from me? ❜

❛ you’re gonna have to show me who you are. ❜

❛ you don’t have to watch if you don’t want to. ❜

❛ you may wanna close your eyes. ❜

❛ you will rule with me in the splendor of a new wasteland. ❜

❛ i’m afraid for you, sweetheart. really afraid. ❜

❛ witness me! ❜

❛ you’re all fools for coming here. ❜

❛ when things go bonkers, you have to adapt. ❜

❛ she looks nothing like you. ❜

❛ she has her mother’s perfections, and none of my deficiencies. ❜

❛ she’s perfect. not like the genetic absurdities you have for sons. ❜

❛ would you like to stay here in the citadel? ❜

❛ if i let you stay and you grow to become a strong, healthy woman, you could become one of our wives. ❜

❛ no! she’s not for sale, she’s mine. ❜

❛ you behave, i’ll behave. ❜

❛ where have i seen you before? ❜

❛ we're going to build ourselves a war rig. ❜

❛ he done the most runs on the fury road. and brung back the booty every time. ❜

❛ eyes left. they’re flanking us. ❜

❛ you’re going to pull over and get out. ❜

❛ where did you think you were going? ❜

❛ there is nowhere else. this is the wasteland. wherever you thought you were going does not exist. ❜

❛ i lost my convoy. i lost my crew. i’m gonna have to start again. and i’m driving off thinking i ought to start with you. ❜

❛ you may be raw, but you have about you a purposeful savagery. ❜

❛ you give me time, i’ll teach you everything you need to know about road war. ❜

❛ if you survive everything we take on together, you’ll have all the skills you need to get wherever you wanna go. ❜

❛ keep it. you’ll need it. ❜

❛ for you. for your travels. you’re done here. you’re free to go. ❜

❛ food, water, wheels, whatever you need. i'll help you put it together. give me a couple of days. ❜

❛ i want what you want. a full belly... and a fistful of bullets for a tank of gas. ❜

❛ we’re not leaving without our tankers full of gas. ❜

❛ you wanna get out of here, follow me. ❜

❛ let’s kill him. right now. ❜

❛ this place at the end of your map of secrets... where is it? ❜

❛ i wanna help you find this place. wherever it may be. ❜

❛ come with me. ❜

❛ there is no hope! not for them, not for you! certainly not for me! ❜

❛ it’s the price we all pay to survive in the wasteland. we cannot be soft! ❜

❛ stay! you’ll find peace here. ❜

❛ if you find him, he’s mine. ❜

❛ gentlemans, it’s time. time to do war. ❜

❛ here, no time for long goodbyes. we’ve done some mighty things together. goodbye. ❜

❛ you’ve found me. ❜

❛ you could have necked me in the night, but you didn’t. ❜

❛ i have nothing. i am nothing. ❜

❛ remember me? ❜

❛ you crawled out of a pitiless grave, deeper than hell. and only one thing’s gonna do that for you. and not hope. hate. ❜

❛ no shame in hate. it's one of the great forces of nature. ❜

❛ so... this is the day i die. i’ve always wondered how. ❜

❛ my childhood. my mother. i want them back. ❜

❛ i'm right there, i’m right there with you. i too craved nothing but revenge. ❜

❛ if the shooter goes around the back, the shootee won’t know the precise moment of the execution. ❜

❛ what you want, dear, are my cries of anguish. anguish without end. and if i could give you that, i would. ❜

❛ if you can’t do me quick, you’ll have to do me slow. ❜

❛ i’ve been waiting for someone like you, someone worthy of me. ❜

❛ no honor, no rule of law to sort things out. just two evil bastards out here in the wasteland. ❜

❛ you do this, you do this right, you become me. ❜

❛ i am nothing like you. ❜

❛ you are me. already dead. ❜

❛ to feel alive, we seek sensation. any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow. ❜

❛ the question is... do you have it in you to make it epic? ❜

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

You Painted Me Golden

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: “So, uh—you can tell me no, but would—do you think I can come see you for Christmas?” Your heart races, you grip the phone tighter while you wait for his answer. Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, smut, masturbation, getting caught masturbating by an ill-timed FaceTime, unprotected p in v sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, aftercare, marijuana, alcohol, naming the concierge after That Thing You Do! Words: 9,250 (I know, it's a lot.)

A/N: This is a VERY long chapter, but a LOT happens and I love these two so much. Thank you to mine and @devineconjuring's 4,000 messages back and forth about them and all of her brainstorming help, there's a beautiful moment between the two of them that she thought of and I can't thank her enough. Also thank you to @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon for helping their dear, kinda dumb Mallard with some thoughts and wording (DRUG COPS).

Previous Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist

*** He tries to stifle a yawn. Call time isn’t until 9, but you’ve been staying up too late to talk to him the past few nights.

You sigh contentedly, his heart thrums faster as you look up at the stars allowing him to look at your beautiful face a little longer.

“God the stars are bright tonight,” you admire.

He glances up, settling his eyes on a twinkling star, he wonders if it’s the same one you’re seeing. He thinks to himself maybe if he stares hard enough, he’ll see the same exact sky you’re seeing.

“He’d never do this with me…” you sigh. “He found looking at the stars boring.”

His heart drops, Warren’s still poisoning your thoughts.

“How could the sky be boring? These stars are millions of years old… they never truly die… they scatter their elements into space creating new stars, planets and life—" he catches himself. “They never end… they recreate themselves and mold themselves into a new existence.”

You smile, your bright eyes looking at him, making his heart shatter like an exploding star.

“Exactly,” you say softly, a glimmer of hope threads through your voice.

His breath catches in his throat yet again swallowing down the words that need to be said.

“Dee?” you say barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

The edge of his mouth lifts in a shy smile. “I miss you too…”

His heart swells with an ache he never felt until he met you. He wants to reach through the screen and pull you close, to feel your warmth against him. But instead, he takes a deep breath and whispers, “I should probably get going, I gotta get ready, we’re filming in Bath, and it’s a three hour trip.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” you reply. The hint of disappointment in your voice makes his heart sink a little lower.

“Today, I'll mostly be sitting in a tent, waiting for my cue to recite a few lines of dialogue. There won't be much excitement happening, so you're not missing out on anything special. But one day, we’ll go and have fun together, Sweets.”

You smile and let out a small chuckle. “I’d love that.”

“Me too,” he softly says.

“Have a good day Dee.” “Have a good night Sweets.”

—-

You close your laptop and let out a heavy sigh, trying to ignore the empty feeling in your heart. The olive tree, adorned with twinkling lights that you carefully strung when you first moved in, glows and glistens in the cool night breeze. You love your backyard, full of the plants and flowers you nourish with your love and care. Warren used to care about the flowers that would bloom, he used to admire the vases full of them you’d place around your house. But then, he stopped. You thought it was you.

Another lonely night in your empty house after yet another long goodbye said to Dieter.

You pause in the kitchen, fingers tracing the smooth marble of your countertop. You begged Warren to let you have dark green cabinets, and he obliged. That was back when it felt like he wanted to make you happy. You chug the rest of your glass of wine, swallowing the sweet liquid down as you gaze at your damn green cabinets. They once represented compromise and shared dreams with Warren. Now they feel like a relic of something lost.

You remember when you first showed Warren this place, your mind alive with ideas on how to renovate and make the home your own. He was a hesitant at first, but your enthusiasm eventually convinced him. You were so excited as you walked through each room, planning out how you would decorate.

You spent days wearing overalls covered in paint learning how to use power tools and refinish hardwood floors. Warren indulged you at first, helping you choose paint colors and hang shelves, but as the years went by, his interest waned in both you and the house you shared. Just as the ghosts of your past life begin to haunt you, you think of Dieter and the way he’d always show his interest in everything you would do around the house. He would admire the new pieces of art you found or surprise you with a new vase he found while he was filming.

You set your empty wine glass in the sink with a soft clink and wander into the living room with Dieter’s words echoing in your mind.

"They never end... they recreate themselves and mold themselves into a new existence." You wonder if that's what you're doing now - scattering the elements of your old life with Warren to create something new.

A soft ping from your phone breaks the all-too-familiar silence. It’s Dieter.

Still thinking about those stars Sweet dreams

His day is only just beginning as your day is ending. Your mind goes through the familiar math of what time he’ll be able to talk again. 9 PM his time, 1 PM yours—along as filming doesn’t go over. It’s been three months.

Three months of distance and longing, of lawyer meetings and splitting of assets, ninety days of only wanting Dieter back next to you.

Three days after he left for London, Dieter tells you his assistant Court has found the best divorce lawyer, and he’s taking care of the bill.

Two weeks after he left for London, Dieter sends you a care package full of your favorite British snacks and a giant plush corgi that now sleeps next to you. You name it Stew, after Jimmy Stewart.

Three weeks after he left for London, you smoke a joint and watch DRUG COPS, the show that made Dieter a household name. You specifically choose the episode where his character brings home the cute girl from the bar and rails her against the wall. It’s been over a month since the last time you touched yourself and even longer since you had sex with Warren. By the time the episode’s credits roll, right after Dieter’s sex scene, your underwear is soaked with your arousal. The night can’t end like this, you need to see his possessive snarl again, so, you pick up the remote and rewind back to the scene. Your hand moves under your pajama pants and feels the wetness between your legs. Desire pools low in your belly when you touch yourself, watching as Dieter kisses down the woman’s neck, his large hands roaming her body. You imagine it’s you.

A soft moan escapes your lips when you stroke yourself, your fingers gliding easily through your slick. Onscreen, Dieter lifts the woman and presses her against the wall and kisses her, grinding his hips into hers. Years ago, you watched this episode with Warren, a cloud of shame existing over you at how turned on you were while watching your husband’s friend. It was almost as if he could sense it, his eyes occasionally flickering over to you while you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, only daring to look at the screen when Warren’s blue eyes weren’t on you. Now, nobody is watching you, you’re free to do whatever you want now… even if that’s rubbing tight circles around your clit while staring at the screen. Your fingers move faster, pressing down harder, chasing the building feeling in your core as you watch Dieter thrust into the actress on screen, his muscular back flexing with each snap of his hips. You imagine what the weight of his body pressing into you would feel like, the scent of him filling your nostrils as he nuzzles into your neck, the sound of his voice whispering filthy things in your ear with his deep voice.

A familiar pressure you haven’t felt in a long time starts to build low in your abdomen as you throw your head back against the couch cushions, your eyes fluttering closed. You can almost feel Dieter’s fingers stroking you.

“Fuck, Dee,” you whimper, your hips lifting off the couch. You’re home alone, you can scream… so you do. “Fuck! Dee!” you shout as your orgasm builds.

And just as you’re about to cum for him—your phone rings.

Dieter Bravo Facetime Video

Fuck.

You grab the remote, pausing the episode as your hand pulls out of your underwear and pick up the phone. You look—well—you look like you were just a couple strokes away from an orgasm.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you plaster a calm look across your face. With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the FaceTime call. Dieter's handsome face fills the screen, his brow instantly furrowing with concern at his first look.

"Morning Sweets, you alright? You look a little—overwhelmed," he says.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," you stammer, hoping he can't see the sheen of sweat on your skin or your pupils blown wide with arousal. "Just got done with a workout."

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face. "A workout, huh?" There's a hint of teasing in his tone. “At 11 PM?”

You laugh nervously, shifting on the couch. The movement causes your robe to slip open wider, revealing more of your heated skin. Dieter's gaze zeroes in on the exposed flesh.

Something shifts in his expression, his eyes darkening as realization dawns. “So—you workout in your robe?” he asks, his eyebrows rising, his voice is low and rough, sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“What? No, I—” you start to protest, but the words die in your throat as he leans closer to the camera.

"I think," he says slowly, his voice dropping an octave, "that you were doing a different kind of workout." His eyes bore into yours through the screen, intense and knowing.

You nod, your stare intense.

“Well, uh—with that. I’ll let you go. Call me back when you’re done. I don’t have to leave for set until 9—I’m going to go get my shower and also—work out,” he says with a wink.

A month after he left for London, Dieter has his team deliver four giant skeletons to decorate your yard with after you mentioned you always wanted one but Warren hated them.

On Halloween you hand out candy alone, just like the few years before, but this year the solitude echoes louder each time you close the door.

Six weeks after he left for London, Dieter gulps and gently asks you if you could put a robe on while you’re FaceTiming with him… he’s too distracted by the thin white fabric of your sleep shirt and the glimpses it gives him of the curve of your breasts. You oblige, but fall asleep that night thinking about the way his eyes refused to look away.

On Thanksgiving, you decline invitations from a few of your friends, opting to spend it with your parents up north, where they tiptoe around you and act extra gentle, like the first time you got your heart broken in high school. 

Ten weeks after he left for London, you climb the ladder to your attic, haul out the giant box, and put up your 12’ tall Christmas tree. You set it up and decorate it all by yourself—with a little help from a bottle of wine.

You look at your Christmas tree now, sitting in the corner of your living room, now complete with the pretty ornaments Dieter sent you from your favorite store in London. You can’t imagine spending the holiday with anybody else but him. It’s been three months. You don’t know how much longer you can take it.

You’ve just hung up with him, but now you feel quite brave. Loneliness will sometimes do that to you. So, you pick up your phone and FaceTime Dieter again.

“Hey, long time no talk,” he says with a wink.

“So, uh—you can tell me no, but would—do you think I can come see you for Christmas?”

Your heart races, you grip the phone tighter while you wait for his answer.

His face lights up, a slow grin lifting his lips. “I would never tell you no. In fact, hold on.” He moves through his hotel room, before sitting down at his desk. “Take a look.”

He opens his laptop, and the screen illuminates, displaying a list of flights from Los Angeles to London a week before Christmas.

Tears well in your eyes at the realization that he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him.

“I was going to ask you…” he smiles, “I just didn’t know if you would want—”

“I do,” you interrupt your heart fluttering. “I really do.”

“Amazing,” he smiles. “Let’s book it and begin the countdown.”

—-

He won’t be here to welcome you. He knows his schedule is solid, there hasn’t been a day he’s gotten home from set early in years. It kills him, but he knows you understand… you always do.

He orders a giant bouquet of red geraniums and places it on the table in the foyer, it’ll be the first thing you see when you arrive.

He wants everything to be perfect. He can’t bear the thought of you arriving and this hotel suite feeling anything less than a sanctuary for you.

Soon, the two of you will be breathing the same air and close enough to touch. He can hardly believe that you’re traveling almost half way across the globe to stay with him. He fluffs the pillows on the couch, trying to buzz off the nervous energy before his car arrives.

You’re high above the ground right now, flying in first class, something you insisted you didn’t need when he surprised you with the ticket. He would never settle for anything less than the best for you.

He wonders if you’re listening to one of the playlists he made you, if you’re reading a book that makes your nose scrunch up in thought, or if you’re abuzz with nervous energy like he is right now.

He imagines your smile when you first see the geraniums, he can almost hear your laughter ringing across the walls when you see the WELCOME HOME card he’s left propped up against the vase.

He prays he remembers his lines and marks while on set today. The less he screws up, the sooner he’s done with the scenes, and the sooner he’s here, finally back with his golden girl.

—-

You’re seated in the plush backseat of a sleek black car, gliding through the busy streets of London after an eleven hour flight. The city you love passes by in a blur, but you barely notice, your heart is racing as the car gets closer to the hotel. After months of longing and late-night and early morning calls, you’ll finally be with Dieter soon.

As you step out of the car at The Mandarin Hotel in Hyde Park and look up at the tall, brick historic building, the realization hits you that finally, you’re going to walk through the same door as Dieter, and soon, you’ll see his bright eyes in person, no longer miles away on a screen.

You feel like a movie star as the attendants swarm you and grab your bags. Dieter’s concierge, Lamar, greets you with a warm handshake and leads you inside, leading you through the lobby full of gold and jewel tones glimmering in warm chandelier light. You’ve stayed at some beautiful hotels before but this is the most gorgeous place you’ve been.

The elevator ride is quick, and when the doors open, you’re greeted by Dieter’s door.

As you approach the suite, your heart races with excitement. Lamar unlocks the door, stepping aside and gestures for you to enter first.

The first thing that catches your eye is the bouquet of geraniums on the foyer table. You let out a small chuckle at the sight of Dieter’s messy handwriting on the WELCOME HOME card propped up next to the vase. Lamar leads you to the spacious living area full of rich colors and plush furniture. It’ll make the perfect home for the next ten days.

“And where would you like your bags miss?” Lamar asks as you peer out the large french doors that lead to a terrace with a view of Hyde Park.

How do you tell Lamar that you don’t know? That you’re not sure if Dieter wants you with him in his room, or in the guest room?

“Oh, just leave them in the guest room,” you answer, playing it safe. “I’ll take care of them from there. Thank you.”

A bellhop wheels in a golden cart stacked with your bags as Lamar shows you the large kitchen and dining room.

“If you should need any groceries or anything else, please contact the concierge desk, we’re more than happy to help.”

You spot a crystal bowl filled with Kit Kats and can't help but smile as you grab one before leading Lamar out and thanking him and his team for all their help.

As the door clicks shut behind you, the exhaustion from your long flight hits you, along with the excitement of finally seeing Dieter.

You walk over to the table, sticking your nose into the bouquet of flowers and inhaling their sweet scent before picking up Dieter’s card and reading it.

Sweets, "Aren't the geraniums pretty, Professor?" Can’t believe you’re finally here. Make yourself at home and have a cuppa tea. (Look! I’m British!) I’ll be back soon, D

You still have a few hours until you’re expecting Dieter back. The large bathtub in the guest bathroom calls your name.

You slip into the guest bathroom and turn on the faucet, watching the water flow into the deep tub. From your toiletry bag, you grab your favorite bath oil and unscrew the lid, pouring it into the water.

Your clothes drop to the floor, creating a pile on the shiny marble tiles. The warm water instantly soothes your tense muscles as you sink into the tub. Leaning back against the smooth porcelain, you let out a sigh of relaxation and close your eyes.

As your cocooned in the warmth and solitude of your bath, you wonder what Dieter’s doing now. You can only imagine how frustrated he is to not be here with you. You hope it’s not affecting his line reciting.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you see him after three months of daily FaceTime calls, of caring for each other thousands of miles away, of slowly falling even more in love with now your best friend.

You’ve spent every day getting to know each other even more, his big heart and support always filling the gaps of your loneliness. But now, here in London, the distance is nearly gone. Only a couple more hours until you’re reunited.

You finish your bath and wrap yourself in one of the plush robes hanging from a golden hook.

Your bare feet pad against the plush rug as you settle on the large couch in the living room. You’re far too tired to change into anything else. You’ll watch an episode of The Simpsons and then get changed to greet Dieter. You must stay up to combat the damn jet lag.

—-

It feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest when he unlocks the door and swings it open. He hears the faint sound of the TV in the living room. You’re home.

“Swee—” your name stops in his throat when he gets his first sight of you in person after three long months. He forgets how to breathe when he takes in every detail of your sleeping figure: the way your hair spills across the cushion, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the smooth skin of your chest revealed to him from your robe shifting in your slumber. His mouth waters when he sees the curve of your breast.

He quietly steps closer, watching you, trying to allow the image of you to take place in his memory—the curve of your lips, the way the tv shadows dance across your skin, the soft skin of your exposed thigh. You look so perfect, like you’ve always been here for him.

“Sweets,” he says quietly as he inches closer and kneels, his heart pulling him to you.

You slightly awaken at the sound of his voice, your eyes fluttering open before they widen in disbelief and joy.

“Dieter,” you breathe, your voice hoarse with sleep.

He’s no longer just looking at you through a tiny screen; you’re here, flesh and blood and warmth, right in front of him. His golden girl.

“You’re here,” you say as you sit up and stretch your arms above your head, the plush robe shifting even more.

“I am. And you’re here.”

“I missed you,” you confess.

“I missed you too. C-can I hug you? I need to make sure I’m not imagining you.”

You giggle as you nod. “I’m real Dee.”

He smiles wide as he ambles up the couch and pulls you close to his side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He breathes in your sweet scent of almond and honey. You smell so fucking good and now you’re here with him.

“Well, I was going to take you out for dinner, but then you’d have to change out of that robe,” he smirks.

—-

Dieter sits across from you at the dining room table in his suite, now also clad in a fluffy robe to match you.

Frank Ocean softly croons through the speakers as you take a final bite of your sticky toffee pudding. You feel like you’re in heaven, the past couple of months and the loneliness and heartbreak all seem worth it for this perfect moment.

“Where are your bags?” Dieter asks sparking a joint, obviously too famous and rich for rules posted on the back of the door of his luxury hotel suite.

“They’re in the guest room,” you casually respond as you watch him exhale a cloud of smoke.

“Oh,” he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You’re welcome to stay in my room… with me.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” you reply as you take the joint from his outstretched hand and take a hit. His eyes soften as he watches you and he leans back in his chair.

“Overstep? Sweets, this is your home for the next couple of weeks. It’s not overstepping, it’s where I want you to be… if it’s where you want to be.”

His warmth wraps around you even more than the robe you wear.

“It is,” you softly respond.

“I’ve been counting down the days until I could wake up next to you again,” he confesses, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table.

“Then I guess we need to move my luggage.”

—-

He gives you the top two drawers of his dresser, he wonders if you noticed that they were already cleaned out for you. He hangs your sweaters up next to his clothes in his closet, he loves how his clothes look next to yours.

Your toothbrush is now next to his, your favorite lotion sits on the nightstand, and your purse sits on the console table next to the door.

For the next ten days he gets to pretend like you live together, here in this fancy London hotel suite. He almost suggests to you going to bed early, only so he can hold you close.

“So,” you say, zipping up your suitcase. “What kind of cartoons does this hotel get?”

He grins. “I’ve become an expert at British cartoon schedules.”

“Great!” you say, pulling down the comforter and climbing into his bed. “Is it okay if we watch them in here?”

Once again, you’ve read his mind. He smiles as he gets in next to you. You take advantage of the bed dipping and scoot next to him, laying your head on his chest.

“Is this okay?” you ask. “I’ve missed this.”

He wonders if you can feel the beat of his heart thrum for you. “It’s more than okay. I’ve missed it too.”

—-

The hum of the shower filters through the hotel room as you lay in bed, thankful that Britain gets episodes of Bob’s Burgers.

You catch glimpses of Dieter’s shadow through the frosted bathroom door as he moves about. It all feels so intimate and yet familiar, like you’ve always belonged right here with him.

Exhaustion weighs down your body as you settle deeper into the luxurious bed. Finally, you’re with Dieter again.

The door creaks open, your heartbeat quickens when he finally steps out, clad in only a pair of low slung pajama pants. His golden skin gleams in the changing shadows being cast from the tv. His hair is slicked back, his handsome face that you’ve missed so much is on full display as he lifts the blanket and slides in beside you.

“Hey,” he says softly, a tired smile stretching across his lips as he leans on one elbow looking down at you with searching eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper. He smells so good and fresh—like eucalyptus and citrus.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I am too.”

His smile fades for a moment, replaced by a look of something deeper, a look that mirrors your own.

You scoot closer, your bodies gently touching beneath the covers. The warmth of him seeps into you, the last remnants of loneliness from back home dissipating as you fall asleep, finally, in his arms.

—-

You softly breathe in your sleep, he can hardly believe you’re finally here. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle sounds you let out as you slumber. Your lips are parted, the same lips he’s been craving to kiss since he left your home three months ago. The high moonlight shines in from the large windows that lead to the large terrace where he would often sit and miss you. Now, you’re here… finally and it all feels like a dream.

The loneliness was often too much for him, causing him to decline invitations to parties from friends or dinners with co-stars just to spend an hour talking to you.

Everything feels right as you cuddle in closer next to him in your sleep. The ache of longing has now transformed into something softer and warm. He brushes his fingers lightly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, careful not to wake you. He loves watching you sleep, you look so peaceful, free from the worry and doubt that your soon-to-be ex-husband has poisoned you with. Just being near you makes him feel complete; he feels like the luckiest man on earth, having his golden girl back in his arms.

He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep, now no longer having to dream of holding you. 

—-

“Sweets.” A whisper of a deep voice against your ear gently rumbles you awake. “I gotta get going.”

Your eyes open to Dieter, a soft smile lifts his face in the early morning light. It’s the most beautiful thing to wake up to.

"Oh,” you yawn. “I’ll walk you out.”

You lift off the covers and take his outstretched hand, his fingers curling around yours as he gently pulls you to your feet.

He holds your hand all the way to the door of the suite, before turning to you, reluctance weighing his features.

“I don’t want to go, you just got here,” he whines.

You chuckle, straightening the collar of his jacket. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you assure. “Now go.”

He sighs before leaning in and leaving a kiss against your forehead. He slightly pulls away, his dark brown eyes staring into yours before they flicker down to your lips. You take a breath, inhaling the scent of him.

HIs eyes linger on your lips, his breath warm against your skin. Time slows as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips brush yours softly, tentative and questioning. You respond, pressing closer, and suddenly, just like that, after all the years of pent up longing and stolen glances…

His mouth captures yours fully and urgently. The plush lips you’ve imagined kissing again cover yours. His hands you’ve dreamed of feeling on your body come up to cradle your face, his body you’ve craved to feel backs yours against the wall. His tongue seeks entrance to your mouth and you allow it, parting your lips with a soft gasp. He groans, the sound vibrating through your body as you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

His lips move against yours, his hands sliding down to your waist, his thick fingers splaying against your back as he pulls you flush against him. A soft moan escapes your lips as his tongue sweeps across yours. His stubble rasps against your skin as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers tighten around the waves of his hair as he nips and sucks at your pulse. You tug at his hair, a low groan escapes from his throat as he kisses his way back to your lips.

Every lick of his tongue into your mouth, every shared moan, every touch of his skin against yours, this is what you’ve wanted ever since that first night, ever since the first time his lips met yours in that dim dive bar.

A sharp ring breaks through your kiss. Dieter’s phone rings insistently nearby on the table by the door. His body tenses against yours before pulling back reluctantly.

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the offending device.

“You should get it,” you suggest softly, your heart sinking.

With a resigned sigh, he releases you and steps towards the table. He swipes to answer, you watch him, marveling at how close he is, how real all of this feels. Finally.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be down right now,” he says into the phone, grumbling as he hangs up without a salutation.

He turns to you, his eyes rounding in apology. “I’m so sorry Sweets, the car service has been waiting for me.”

“I know. Go. I’ll be here.”

His eyes bat between the door and you, before he sighs, walks over, and grabs your chin leaving a searing kiss against your lips.

“I’ll be back by 7, go down to the spa, spend the day pampering yourself, charge it to the room.”

You smile, leaning in to give him another kiss. “I will. Thank you. Now, go, before they call again.”

“Bye Sweets, have a good day.”

—-

The door clicks behind him as he steps out into the hallway, he can’t hide the huge smile on his face as he makes his way to the elevator. Your lips, goodness, your lips, your sleep rumpled face, your body underneath his shirt, he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

The elevator door closes as he leans against the polished golden metal, his heart still racing with the remnants of your kiss. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you still on his lips.

The elevator descends to the lobby, he feels the distance stretch between you, but it’s different now, this distance is hopeful and wishing, the type of distance that he knows is only temporary.

He wanted to stay and never leave you, but duty calls louder than desire, and he knows this role is huge for him.

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the ground floor and Dieter steps out into the bustling lobby. Lamar greets him with a smile and leads him to the waiting car.

“Is there anything you need today sir?” Lamar asks.

“Just make sure my girl is taken care of,” Dieter catches himself as he calls you his girl. “Everything gets charged to my room.” “Of course Mr. Bravo,” Lamar nods with a knowing smile as he closes the car door.

—-

You do as Dieter tells you. You spend your first day in London treating yourself to a day at the fancy hotel spa. Once you’re relaxed and pampered, you take yourself out for afternoon tea at Rosebery, the bright and airy cafe in the hotel. You’re used to taking yourself out to meals, enjoying the peaceful solitude of your own company and a book, but today feels different. Later Dieter will be back and peaceful solitude will be traded for peaceful companionship.

The whole hotel is gorgeous, you truly feel special here, like a character from one of the classic movies you've watched a million times. You've been whisked away to another country by the handsome, ultra famous movie star who you think you’re falling in love with—and you think he might just feel the same way about you.

—-

His driver drives down the same streets and drops him off at the same entrance after another long day on set, except now it’s different. This fancy hotel has been his home for the past three months. Sure, he has a stocked fridge, a comfortable bed, and his clothes in the closet… but it was still missing you. Now, as the doorman opens his door, he feels like he’s at home, because now, he’s only ten floors away from you.

He practically jogs through the lobby to catch the next elevator.

Eight floors away. Six floors away. Four floors away. One floor away.

Home.

He makes his way across the hall to the door he’s opened every single day he’s been here. The vase of geraniums still sit on the entranceway table overflowing with pretty crimsom blooms. He blinks twice when he sees you awake on the couch, looking at your phone.

He forgers how to breathe when you look up towards him with a smile. The sight of you, after a long day, sends warmth pooling through his whole body… better than any drug or drink he’s ever had. The lamp near you casts your body in a golden hue, he swears you look like a golden goddess.

“Hey you,” you say, a cosy grin spread across your lips. “Welcome back.”

You stand to meet him half way. The space between you quickly disappears as he strides over, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He feels your body melt against him.

"I missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

He takes a step back to admire you, taking in the sight of you—your face fresh and dewy from your spa day. “You look incredible,” he says, a hint of awe in his voice.

You shyly look down. “Thank you.”

He reaches out and gently holds your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Beautiful,” he whispers, licking his lips and leaning forward.

He kisses you again. He can’t resist the softness of your lips, the feel of your tongue against his, the little sounds you make… it’s all he’s thought about today. Three times now, he’s kissed you. He feels a sense of possessiveness as you let a small sigh out. He knew it all those years ago, that one he has tasted the sweetness of your lips, no one will ever compare.

His hands travel down to your waist, lightly brushing against the ties of your robe. He wants to pull them apart so badly, but he resists. He pulls back, breathless and slightly dazed. Your head finds its home against his chest. “So, how was your day?” he asks.

“Lovely, wonderful, super relaxing,” you reply, lifting your chin to meet his eyes again. “The spa was amazing and I felt so spoiled. It felt… surreal.”

“Surreal is good,” he replies with a smirk.

“I like surreal,” you respond.

“Oh! Look at my manicure!” you say, stepping back and proudly holding out your hands for his inspection.

He chuckles softly, tracing a finger tip along one of your nails. “They look like the sky.”

“Yep! And the stars glow in the dark,” you respond proudly.

His heart swells at how happy and relaxed you look. There have been far too many days that he would worry about you, hoping you’re happy and smiling, never quite sure of how you’re feeling. But today, as you stand before him, glowing with a wide smile on your face, he knows that you are truly happy in this moment.

“I’m starving. Do you want to just order room service or do you want to go out tonight?”

“If we stay here, I can keep my robe on,” you sheepishly respond.

“Then go ahead and order the food while I’ll go change into mine,” he says with a wink.

He hasn’t felt this happy in so long.

—-

Another delicious meal, another delicious bowl of sticky toffee pudding, another shared joint between the two of you.

“God,” you happily sigh pushing the empty dessert plate away from you. “I could eat that for every single meal.”

He chuckles, his head shaking back and forth, the way he looks at you is foreign, like you truly are the center of his world. A look you haven’t seen in years.

You’re halfway across the world from your comfortable dream home filled with all of your furniture, plush blankets, and treasures—yet right here, across the table from Dieter, feels more like home than your house has in years.

“I’ve been thinking, and tell me no if you don’t want to, but I think we should watch The Philadelphia Story tonight. Just so we can have a happy memory with it. But again you don’t have to do i—”

“That sounds amazing, Dee, I love it,” you say.

You realize you’re madly in love with him as he rises from the table and offers his hand to you with a doting smile.

—-

“No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy.” Dieter recites the lines along to the movie, drawing your attention. “Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He looks over at you and… you do have tears in your eyes.

The look on your face… your wide eyes, wet with tears you have yet to shed, your mouth agape as you blink at him, the small smile that’s beginning to lift your lips.

He wants to tell you everything, he feels like he finally can now after years of staying silent and trying to escape the feelings he holds for you—but first he needs to know one thing.

“Do you still love him?” he asks, shocking himself at his earnest question.

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve loved him for awhile, honestly. Do you still love Anika?”

“No,” he mimics your head shake. “I don’t know if I ever did.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

“Because,” he swallows ready to bare his soul to you. “I couldn’t have you.”

He watches you process his words, your brow furrowing slightly as a wave of understanding washes over you. The truth lingers in the air poignant and thick. He feels his heart constrict at the thought of what could have been—what should have been. The ache he’d always feel when Warren would touch you, kiss you, hold you. He leans closer, compelled by the invisible force that draws him into your orbit.

“You’re my golden girl sweets,” he admits, a tremor in his voice as he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “Ever since that night in that dive bar.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, as you search his face, a tear falling down your cheek. “For that long?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, wiping your tear away with the pad of his thumb. “For that long,” he responds with a shy smile.

He doesn’t even have time to second guess his confession, before you leap on him, straddling his body and pressing your lips against his. He embraces you, reveling in the feeling of your body against his. His body feels aflame, your need for him igniting the long smoldering burn for you within him.

You let out a soft moan as your hands slide under his robe, eagerly exploring his chest. He’s never felt your touch this way, his hips tilt up towards the heat of you still concealed by the fluffy fabric. You meet his hips, grinding down on top of him.

Ever since he first saw you, he’s wondered what this would feel like, what you would sound like, how your body would feel against his. He pulls away slightly, breathless, searching your eyes seeking reassurance after a decade of wanting you. “Are you sure?” he asks, vulnerability etched on his face.

“Dee,” you pant, “I want you.”

“God,” he says, his head tilting back to hit the couch. “That’s all I’ve needed to hear.”

You lean forward against him, leaving kisses along his neck up towards his jawline, your tongue darting out to lick a line across the strong angle of it to his mouth.

Your tongue finds his as you melt against him even more, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, erasing every distance that has ever laid between you. The only thing that lies between him and your naked body is a robe.

He pulls away, sitting up and helping you to stand. He quirks an eyebrow up at you asking for silent permission as he grabs the tie of your robe. You nod with a sweet smile, and as the robe loosens, your skin is slowly revealed to him. His breath leaves his body when you shrug the fabric off, the robe pooling behind you. His golden girl now stands bare before him, only clad in pair of dark blue panties. The glow of the lamp behind you lights your skin. You’re ethereal, like a goddess he’d pray to, backlit by the golden glow. You are his golden girl.

“Fuck…” he murmurs, his robe barely covering his hardness for you as you step towards him. There have been too many dreams to count like this that he’s woken up from, hard and leaking. He pinches his arm.

“Huh?” you ask, a look of shock crossing your face.

“I’m just making sure this is real,” he responds.

You giggle, as you settle yourself back on his lap.

“It’s real,” you whisper against his mouth before leaving a kiss against it and reaching down to untie the ties of his robe. He recognizes the look on your face as he shuffles out of the robe… want, need, lust.

Finally, your lace meets his cotton. It used to be circumstances and empty marriages separating you, now it’s just two pieces of thin fabric.

You press your body against him with desperate force, pushing over the boundary long since established by regret. For once, he feels like he’s not just holding onto the dream of you, but living it—a reality where he can finally hold you near and tell you everything he wants to say.

He wants you, he needs you, he’s thought of this so many times before—but not here on this couch.

“Baby—” he says against your lips, catching your attention. “Bedroom.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your hair tousled and lips swollen. You scoot off him and stand, panting for air with wild eyes. You’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.

—-

With your fingers intertwined, you lead him into the bedroom. Your heart is racing, you haven’t been with anybody since Warren—and now, here in London, you’re leading Dieter fucking Bravo to the bed. As soon as you both step past the threshold, he turns and presses your overheated skin against the cool wall. His lips meet yours in a desperate kiss, his strong hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him.

Every touch lights something within you that you didn’t know existed before. Your head falls back as he trails kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin as he moves lower and lower.

“Dieter,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moves lower, his lips trailing down your collarbone towards your chest.

“Baby,” he whispers before forming his mouth over your breast and lightly sucking on your nipple. Not Sweets, not Golden Girl, just baby.

His tongue explores the familiar lines of your body like a map he’s memorized yet never navigated. He moves to the floor, kissing down your stomach, past the thin strap of your underwear to the birthmark on your hip shaped like a comet.

He looks up at you, big brown eyes lit with adorations stare into yours. There’s a look you can name, it’s the look you’ve secretly wanted ever since you met him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with awe before he kisses against your birthmark and traces the shape of it with his tongue.

His hands slide up your ass to the waistband of your underwear, with one easy movement, he pulls the lace down your legs, leaving you bare for him.

“Goddamn baby,” he whispers, voice full of awe, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Perfect, I knew it.”

You gasp as he pushes you flush against his mouth, his lips finding their way between your thighs, inhaling the scent of you, his eyes fluttering shut as his tongue finally tastes you.

You moan loudly, arching into him. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady for him. A sound escapes him, a mix between a groan and sigh.

“Fuck baby,” he whispers against you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer and deeper.

“Dee,” you gasp as he kisses and sucks against your clit. He savors you, worships you, as if every dash and flick of his tongue against you imparts the knowledge of how he’s always felt about you.

Your legs begin to tremble, your hands gripping against his hair tighter to help you stay upright. His tongue swirls and teases against you, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. Lately, your fantasies have been filled with thoughts of how his plush lips would feel against you, how his tongue would taste you, and now that you have it, it’s everything you wanted it to be.

You gaze down at him, tension coiling in your belly and goosebumps prickling across your skin. He feels your eyes on him and looks up at you with hungry, desperate eyes, groaning against you. His brows knit together in concentration as he explores every inch of you with his tongue, each stroke feeling like a deep confession against your pussy.

You pull against his hair, catching his attention, his eyes wide and mouth glistening.

“Bed,” you plead.

“Okay baby,” he nods before standing and giving you a kiss that leaves the taste of you on your lips.

He leads you to the bed, his large hand in yours, gently guiding you.

With every step a new memory of him all those years ago flood your mind. He was the charming young actor who used to be your husband's best friend. Yet, there was always a spark between you two that seemed to ignite whenever your eyes met. It's been far too long, and you've endured too much sadness in your loveless marriage. Now, as you lay on the soft sheets of a luxurious hotel bed in London, there is a sense of liberation and anticipation. After months of taking care of yourself and years of longing for Dieter...you lie naked on the bed, ready and eagerly waiting for him to take you.

He reaches over to the bedside table and pulls out a box of condoms.

“Dee?” you ask, as curiosity gets the best of you.

“When’s the last time y-you—”

“Not since before you called me that night,” he reveals, his brown eyes deep as they stare into yours. Your heart races at his confession; all this time you assumed he was still sleeping around, what with him being a famous Hollywood star and all. “I’ve been waiting for you baby.”

“Dee, I have an IUD,” you smile.

“Amazing,” he grins, tossing the box behind him before hopping onto the bed and smothering you with his body.

He leaves a trail of playful, wet kisses across your face, each one eliciting a giddy giggle. You haven’t made this noise or felt this light and carefree in years - and you’re naked in bed with the best man of your wedding. The irony is not lost on you.

He pulls away, the playfulness of the moment quickly replaced by lust when you feel his hardness pressed against you. Only one more layer to go until he’s fully exposed to you.

“Off,” you say, tugging at the cotton of his boxers.

He rises to kneel, his hard cock straining against the fabric.

“Be my guest baby,” he grins, a playful glint in his eyes.

You bite your lip, eyes locked with his as you reach for the waistband of his boxers, slowly tugging them down, revealing his cock.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, unable to stop yourself from admiring how beautiful his cock his.

He tilts his head down and watches as your hand swipes across the wide tip of him, collecting the bead of precum and smearing it across the head. He’s so thick.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “I can’t believe this.”

He pinches himself again, earning a giggle from you as you admire his naked body.

Broad everywhere and golden skinned… you can’t believe you ever wanted anybody else.

Dieter’s lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as his hands roam over your body, his fingers trailing down your stomach, achingly close to where you need to feel him the most.

“Dee,” you gasp against his lips, arching into his touch. His fingers swipe against the wetness you’ve been spilling out for him before slipping one inside, eliciting a long, low moan from you.

With each slow stroke, he watches your reaction, a glimmer of fascination illuminating his eyes as you arch your back and gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your neck, his free hand gently squeezing your breast before teasing your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You rock against him, hips meeting his hand, needing more from him.

“Need you Dee,” you whimper, as his thumb swirls against your clit.

“I need you too,” he growls, removing his hand and positioning himself at your entrance.

Your hips arch, inviting him in. You’re gasping for air, years and years of anticipation, of an innocent crush, of wanting somebody you thought you could never have and now, now, he enters you with one swift thrust, filling you completely, stretching you in ways you’d forgotten possible. Finally, you’re connected to him in such an intimate way. He moves slowly at first, gently rocking in and out. Your hands grip onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into his golden skin as his thrusts slowly and achingly hit deeper.

“Fuck,” he pants, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the barrage of sensations flooding through him. “You’re so tight.”

His steady strokes meeting with your gasps and moans echo across the large hotel room. Your body moves with his, your hands roaming across his chest before wrapping your fingers around his fluffy hair.

“Dee,” you moan, unable to form any other words as every nerve in your body is lit by him.

He leans forward, sealing his mouth over yours, swallowing every sound you moan for him.

“For so long,” he whispers against your lips. “Wanted this for so long.”

The heat between you builds until it’s almost unbearable, you’re getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me baby,” Dieter strains. “I want to feel you cum for me.”

He thrusts in and out of you slow and steady and with one final thrust, your orgasm blasts through you like an exploding star. You’re a supernova colliding down to earth and shattering into molten golden bits. Your walls clench around Dieter’s cock, as you cry his name over and over.

Your body shudders beneath him, fingernails digging into his back, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

He gazes down at you in awe, watching your face contort in ecstasy, feeling your walls flutter and clench around him, drawing him in deeper.

"That's it, baby," he coos. "Cum for me. You're so beautiful."

He kisses you as he edges himself closer, your body feels as if it’s still glowing as he pounds into your pussy.

“Fuck, I knew iiit,” Dieter grits as he follows soon after, his body trembling above you, a cascade of warmth flooding inside as he releases himself with a deep, primal groan.

You’re lost in each other, suspended in this one moment—a universe now made of your shared breaths and gentle kisses.

Dieter’s weight presses gently on you, a pulse of a feeling you haven’t felt in so long beats through your heart.

He kisses your forehead before rolling off of you. You turn on your side to face him, studying his features in the low light. The gentle wave of his hair, the slight curl of his lips as he drifts in and out of bliss. A smile creeps onto your face, a mix of disbelief and joy.

He rises on shaky legs, his dark brown hair tousled, a dopey grin on his face. “Be right back.”

You giggle at the surreality when he moves across the room with his naked body on full display. The muscles of his back flex as he walks, and you take the opportunity to admire the curve of his ass. Damn. He’s perfect.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the soft rush of water from the faucet. Damn. He’s thoughtful.

He’s no longer just your friend or the famous movie star. He’s now something so much more to you, especially as he returns, naked and unabashed, moving towards you with such tender purpose.

A warm damp towel rests in his hand as he approaches the bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Spread for me baby,” he gently says.

You’re not even shy as his eyes roam your naked body still loose and glowing from your orgasm.

You spread your legs and he gulps. “Amazing,” he says with reverence as his cum drips out of you. He gently cleans you, his brows knit in concentration, his brown eyes focused on the task.

He tosses the rag on top of his boxers before sliding back into bed next to you. His warm body presses against yours as he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you close.

His earring glistens in the soft light of the bedside lamp. It beckons you, but now, you can finally touch it with zero fear. Your finger traces the golden shape of it, before trailing down to the stubble on his jaw. He turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your palm.

“Surreal is good,” you echo his words from earlier.

“Mm,” he hums, his big brown eyes looking at you with deep affection. “In fact, I think I love surreal.”

---

A/N: Hi, yes, hello. Things are happening. I'm working on the next chapter right now, and that'll be the festive Christmas/New Years chapter. It'll be post holiday time. Thank you, as always for reading, and (hopefully) loving these two just as much as me.

[rheakira]

I've come to temporarily break my hiatus to bring up something deeply important. Because after a recent event, if I have to go another day without talking about it, I don't know what I'll do.

Fandoms have an enormous issue when it comes to bigotry and people feeling comfortable enough to be openly bigoted.

And I want to make it clear: everyone is capable of it. In fact, most people do it more often than they don't. But because this strange myth has been built up that if you aren't "blatantly saying slurs" or "killing others" it can't possibly be bigotry, we have done nothing but become dangerous behind closed doors.

If your friend has odd beef with a person of color in the fandom and holds them to standards they don't hold their white friends to, that is bigotry. If your friend feels some sort of way about the trans person in your friend group and tries to come up with reasons for why they specifically can't stay, that is also bigotry. If your group insists that a person with a personality disorder is making it up just for attention and uses that as a reason for why they can't be around them, that is bigotry as well.

I've never been upfront about it because... why do I, as a human being, need to be upfront about my identity when people randomly decide what I am? But I am in fact a person of color who is queer and disabled. Whenever I join a fandom group that is mostly white people, I am liked until this is discovered. And then I watch as people get brutal about things I do or say. Things that they don't do to other people in the group, and I also watch as they take my words and either twist them for convenience or ruin my reputation for it.

As a marginalized person, both in fandom and out, you are held to a unique standard that does not apply to other human beings around you. It makes doing what you love very difficult, because unfortunately as a marginalized person, people will always subconsciously side with the person trying to oppress or attack you. This has happened to me my entire life, from school to work spaces to even internet spaces claiming to be safe places.

People will say that they care about you and like you and even form a friendly bond with you, but the moment a person of privilege decides they do not like you very much, they can and will side with the other person even without proof of their issues with you. It's exhausting and ruins lives in places that should be fun and safe.

I am on my umpteenth experience with this exact cycle and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel like I couldn't live or breath in places I should be allowed to be involved in. It's a very real problem that refuses to end because no one has the courage to challenge it. I am speaking not only on my own experiences, but for the many other people of color or queers or disabled people who simply cannot join these so called "safe spaces" because of our identities conflicting with people who have been taught that we are lesser and not worth love or care.

If this is a problem you face, please know that I see you and I love you. It's hard to keep surviving in a world that wants to hurt you and leaves you abandoned and alone. I want you to know that the world is scary, but we all exist. You should be allowed to experience joy and fun without feeling like you're being suffocated and wanting to die.

You matter. The people around you that make you feel like you don't are nothing by comparison. You matter and I truly hope that we'll one day find each other and become the safe space that we deserve.

The marginalized people in your fandom are more important than your fictional characters and plotlines that you put above us. We're here and we're not leaving. Learn to live with us and protect us.

If we're truly your friends, you would care when your privileged "friends" want to remove us.

Additionally, please do not take this rant and make it only about white people who are part of these marginalized categories. This is a post about EVERYONE. Including the people of color around you. Do not remove us from this conversation. Care about ALL OF US if you support this at all. Thank you.

[emilija04acer]

Jayvik fics list (pt 1)

(+ some Jayvikmel)

They are soulmates, Your Honor, whether platonic or romantic is irrelevant.

Firstly, here is an essay by isdisorigionale. Yes, they apparently wanted to write about a brotherly relationship. But it doesn't really read like that, in my opinion.

An Aroace Analysis of Jayvik—Not Necessarily Romance, Absolutely Not “Bros”

Their summary>

An essay I wrote in 90 minutes 2 hours after finishing Season 2 Act 3. Notably, those two hours were spent screaming to my friends on how fucking generational that Jayvik was.

Or: They obviously didn't need to make them make out to show how much they love each other, but I’m also pissed at how apparently this is being called a bromance like ?????

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

Now onto the fanfics >

Green is my thoughts on the fics.

Those are shorter fics that I read...After the finale, fanfiction is helping me cope. I'll make a separate list with older and longer fics.

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

You're Dreaming by Skullsz_Writes

Viktor & Jayce are researching in the library, but Jayce falls asleep...

Short and sweet fic about Viktor crushing on Jayce in season 1

An Epilogue by GwenEani

In the countryside of Demacia two men arrive one day, no one knows anything about them, no one even knows their names for certain. But they know one thing: they are partners and are here to stay.

What if Jayce and Viktor didn't die in each other's arms but were teleported away and were living domestic lives? There are a lot of these here, and rightfully so. They deserve some happiness.

to rot and ruin by ember360

The first words Viktor says to Jayce are immortalised on Jayce's wrist. The first words Jayce says to Viktor... are not what he thinks.

Soulmate AU for these two was a need. I love Soul Mark fanfictions.

Fortune Kooky by setbet

“And you end up with… a beard!” she exclaimed pointing at Jayce’s face.

Viktor rolled his eyes while Jayce looked on, amazed at her prophecy.

“And then…” she turned her gaze to Viktor. “You turn into a robot!” cried out the fortune teller, falling back in fear. “A terrifying robot bent on taking over the world!”

“Eh, sounds fake,” said Viktor.

“Viktor, don't be rude!” said Jayce, but starting to feel a bit doubtful at this point.

A fic about two academy boys visiting a completely accurate fortune teller.

Universal Constants. by Azurita25

“Yes, well… there is also the idea of constants, no? Universal constants. Gravity is always present, the Earth always spins around the sun–”

“And we always end up doing laundry together?”

“I do not think the laundry is the part that’s important,” Viktor stressed.

“So what is?” Jayce replied, making Viktor laugh, shake his head.

“You are.”

--Or, a glimpse into all the universes where Jayce and Viktor find each other.

wrong bedroom by a1sher

“Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom.” Viktor and Jayce tries to break into Heimerdinger’s lab only to end up in Viktor’s bedroom;)

What if Mel accepted Vik's excuse?

…And They Were Roommates! by draconabraxas

Mel Medarda never thought she’d go on a date with a taken man; homewrecking was beneath a woman of her standing.

In her defense, nobody in their circle seemed to know if Jayce and Viktor were together, either. So, how was she supposed to know?

Miscomunication and more miscomunication! Mel isn't a sidepeace!

Why Love Songs Exist by Slither

"All these timelines at our fingertips." Viktor pauses. He smirks in such a way that Jayce knows he has a silly idea. "It would be funny if I were a worm in an alternate universe," he says.

"I think you would be a cute worm," says Jayce—his Jayce—without hesitation, and then he shrugs. "I would put you in the best garden I could find and feed you the freshest fruits," he adds casually.

Giopara is silently mouthing the phrase "what the fuck" behind them, as Viktor's mouth falls open. "Oh."

Oh, he says, as if that did not remind him of everything Jayce revealed before they sacrificed their souls to contain the Arcane. Oh, that he was beautiful. Oh, that he was...

Desired?

Or Jayce basically confessed his love, but the specifics remained unclear to Viktor.

Kiss me like one of your Zaun Boys by setbet

“They’re making out in the lab.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot.”

“But they’re not boyfriends?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The first time Viktor kissed Jayce, it was a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a casual conversation. The next time it's on the lips, but then it's back to talk about formulas. Jayce concludes it must be a cultural thing, and also starts to kiss Viktor back. Everybody else is confused.

A story of two friends kissing each other, who are definitely not boyfriends.

only you by babybirb

Jayce and Viktor don't quite cease to exist. Instead, they are side by side in each breath, in each droplet of blood, in each wave of sound and light. What seems to be the end, is only the beginning for them. And together, they pave their way forth.

An ethereal alternate after-ending to Jayce and Viktor and the love they hold for each other. With it, they exist within all possibilities.

not to me, not if it's you by brewstersbru

They were supposed to die, then, a better ending than Viktor expected. Far sweeter than he deserved. Jayce’s hand warm and broad against his neck, foreheads tipped together, breaths fanning over skin. It was neat. It was nice.

And then he woke up, splayed in a field, draped in the tatters of Jayce’s blanket. A groan rose from his left, then some pitiful shuffling before a final, loud thump, accompanied by a slight warble.

perfect imperfections by bbgghost

In his dying moments, Jayce revisits some important moments he has shared with Viktor. And makes some new memories along the way.

i knew you in another life (you had that same look in your eyes) by coefemi

Jayce shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it for you. I’d do anything.” He sounds so earnest too, and Viktor believes him. He is safe with this boy, he decides. Jayce’s smile makes him feel like he can eat the world raw, and Viktor wants to hold onto it forever.

 When Viktor and Jayce's foreheads touch, all the infinite what-could-have-beens spill through their minds.

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

2x7 AU\No Hextech AU

I'd love to see more of this AU and will also write fanfiction about it.

Quiet Resonance by Qakk281

Jayce rarely wakes up before Viktor, but on the rare mornings he does, he savors every second.

After the events of Act 3, Jayce and Viktor found themselves in a different timeline, where Hextech doesn't exist.

what could've been, would've been (what should've been you) by ghostlyecho

They got married in this universe.

Jayce grabs Viktor’s left hand, examining it. He looks at his own.

Twin rings adorn their fingers, Viktor’s golden, Jayce’s silver, both holding a fragment of blue crystal in the middle.

They’re married. They vowed their life to the other, they promised themselves to one another, they actually acted upon the deep-rooted emotions that coursed through the garden that was their relationship, that stubborn weed called love, that always came back no matter how many times you plucked it.

What if it was Jayce who got to see his life in an alternate universe

What Could Have Been by TheUnknownGoose

When Jayce woke up he nearly leaped out of bed when he realized bed? Why am I in bed? His heart was pounding against his rib cage as he looked around. He was in a bedroom, not his though.

Or Jayce sees what could have been if one thing had gone differently.

In Every Universe, It's You by AniresNevil

In an Alternate Universe, a young scientist Jayce loses his hopes and dreams when an explosion in his studyroom takes a life of an young girl. Dean's assistant Viktor still seems to find him in every lifetime, and together they accomplish something once again with the power of their partnership. And maybe with something more.

What happened to Jayce and Viktor in the Universe where Ekko traveled to in season 2?

Both arms cradle you now by Alexthestarlover

They're meant to be. In every timeline of any universe, throughout all the endless possibilities of actions and worlds. Their souls are intertwined. But is it possible that they're together in death too? 

there was something about you, but now i cant remember by DipitinPuddinggg

He held out a hand for a shake, "I'm Jayce."

At the edges of his mind, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of his skull. A voice that was the same but also not. A face that was so familiar, but too smooth at this point in time, not yet marred by years of labour and hardship that not even the strongest person in Runeterra could survive on his own.

"I don't even know your name."

Viktor smiled and shook it, "Viktor."

After getting sucked into the rune, Jayce and Viktor get transported to a different timeline without the memories of their previous life. Except, some things start seeping in.

you'll never shine if you don't glow by hexcorehomos

Viktor woke up, his fact was hot, sweat dripping down it. Where was he?

He looked around, it looked like Piltover. He slowly tried to get up, still confused. He should be dead, he exploded with the Arcane. That's when he figured out that his leg was back to normal. He groaned, falling face down into the grass. He wondered if Jayce was here too, oh, Jayce. What would Viktor do without him?

He saw a few people pass, but he got the courage to speak up when he saw familiar blue hair, almost like Jinx's. "Uh, miss.." he got her attention, turning towards him.

"Hello, sir?" she responded. She had gorgeous blue eyes. "I need- I need help. My cane is gone, and I cant walk without it." he lied, desperate for help.

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

The Poly relationship>

Radical Violence Theory by begaydocrimes10001

When Mel Medarda realizes that she's completely ignored Viktor's potential as a scientist, as an academic, she quickly seeks to remedy that. He may not be Jayce Talis, but he has his own brain, and he seems to be far more useful than most think. She's a practical woman, after all- it would be useful to have another genius on her side.

And when she realizes Viktor is also in love with Jayce Talis, and Jayce loves them both? She's still practical, after all-- she sees an opportunity.

(Or, Mel and Viktor are more similar than one might think. That applies to who they love, but it applies to how they love too.)

Mel and Vik are platonic in this one, and I love it. Sadly, the positive interaction between them in Cannon is non-existent.

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

Explicit> (some are 2x8 specific)

Wild Like a March hare by crow_brain

Wild are the glimpses of their life, hot coals burning the soles of their feet. They dance like animals, trying to close the gap between.

(Or the body worship Viktor's always should've gotten)

Cosmic Coitus by Wink_Wonk_Wank_Wenk

Now that there’s nothing but space around them, they can do whatever they want.

Inevitable Change by magisterpavus

Viktor isn’t the same when he comes back.

Jayce is determined to make it work anyway.

convince you by spectacularorange

after being rejected once, viktor must find a way to convince jayce to join him.

2x8

Partners. by lw192

Taking place during the fight scene in the councilor's room, Jayce and Viktor reconcile and realize just how much they need each other.

(Jayce and Viktor fuck on the councilor's table.)

Can I hold you? (Even if its just pretend?) by Issavandra

“My partner died in this room,” he ground out.

“Do I seem dead to you Jayce?” Viktor asked. Jayce could feel him moving closer, he swore he felt something brush his nose. “I have never been more alive.”

A cool, metallic finger passed over his bottom lip in a featherlight touch. It felt almost reverent. “Do you want me to show you just how alive I am?”

♥––––––––♥♥––––––––♥

Pt 2is here>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/768620668211331072/jayvik-fics-list-pt2?source=share

Pt 3 (new fics)>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/769136252271362048/jayvik-list-pt3

[folklaur21]

What would've should've been

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't truly know what love felt like until he found you. But now all he can do is sit and imagine what should've been.

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Battle of Hogwarts, use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

Before You

Theodore Nott isn't the happiest person in the world. Scratch that, he might be the most subdued, emotionally complex guy to have ever existed. Hardly anything made him smile, next to nothing made him laugh. That's just how he was, is, and how he will always be.

It isn't completely his fault. People are never born 'sad' or 'emotionless'. Theo was brought up this way. It was ingrained into him as a child, silently impacting his life forever, and he didn't even realise it. Well, that was until his mother died. At the hands of his father.

Theodore's mother was a gentle soul. Sweet and caring, she always looked after her son. She gave him everything a child needed, wanted, and then some. The one thing she couldn't provide for Theo? A stable father, who wasn't an alcoholic, abusive pig. Though she did try, the fear she had of Theodore's father never ceased throughout their marriage. She just had to try to shelter Theodore from this cold, uncaring lifestyle.

She could only protect her son so much. When Theodore was just nine years old, she couldn't take the abuse from his father anymore. So she tried to escape. From her house, from her husband, from her life. Yet she failed. And he found out. Theodore Nott Sr. was not happy with this. So he did the only thing that he thought could ease his troubles. He killed his wife. The mother of his child. The child that had heard the Unforgiveable Curse uttered from his father's lips. The child who watched the flash of green light emitted from his father's wand. The child who had to watch his own mother, the only person who truly cared for him, die.

When he started Hogwarts, Theodore wanted a somewhat fresh start. Free from the burdens of his home life, he made friends.(Arguably, they were friends who his father would have approved of. If his father even cared.) At school, Theodore worked hard, and tried to mask the emotions he had always been told to oppress. Anger. Hatred. Vulnerability. So none of his friends truly knew what his life was like. Except for Lorenzo.

Theo told Enzo Berkshire everything. It was easier, having someone understand why you were like you were. Someone who you trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets. Someone who cared about you. That's how the two became best friends. Practically inseparable, 24/7.

During You

Having a connection with someone was something Theodore didn't truly seek throughout his lifetime. Especially now, in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Apart from Enzo, he was fine with keeping to himself, keeping a low profile and staying out of everyone's way. That was, until he saw you.

"Enzo, I don't want to go."

"Please, Theo, I want you to come. I'll be lonely without you." Enzo pleaded with his friend.

"I don't want to go to the Yule Ball. And besides, I didn't ask anyone to go with me." Theodore replied, still resisting the idea.

"So? No-one really cares if you're with someone or not. It's supposed to be fun." Enzo says with a sigh as he flops down next to Theo on his bed.

Theo scoffs. "Says you! How many girls asked you to go with them? 15?"

Lorenzo turns slightly pink at his friend's comment. "23..."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exactly," Theo says, but after a moment he decides, "I will go to the ball with you Enz. Only because it's that, or sit around here or in the common room with all the first years."

So, that was how he ended up standing at the side of the Great Hall, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice, and watching all of his friends dancing with whoever they brought to the Ball. Theo didn't really mind. Once again, he was merely waiting in the wings, not really expecting anything grand to happen to him. At least, that's what he thought would happen. Until he saw you.

You were with some of your friends on the dancefloor. Laughing and smiling, you were carefree, living your life to it's full potential. Theo couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. It's not like you would have seen him anyway, with him lurking in the shadows.

After he had spent what felt like forever watching you, Enzo came to his friend's side, offering a new glass of pumpkin juice, which Theo gladly accepted.

"Who's that?" Theo asked his friend, nodding his head in your direction.

"That's Y/N. Y/L/N I think. She's in Ravenclaw. She's actually quite clever, I sat next to her in arithmancy last year." Enzo pauses for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Theo shrugs, nonchalant. "I just... don't remember seeing her before, that's all."

"Oh. Well, she's really kind. And sweet." Enzo smiles before rushing of again to resume dancing, leaving Theo to mull over his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

A week later, whilst sat in Potions, Theodore couldn't help but watch you, sitting across from him in the classroom. Strange. He had never noticed you before, but now it seemed you were the only thing plaguing his mind. He hardly took any notice of Professor Snape that lesson, watching you as you took notes with your brow furrowed, and how you twirled your quill around in your fingertips if you seemed distracted.

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott grew to know lots about you, even if you didn't yet realise it. He knew your favourite subject (Charms), your favourite sweets from Honeydukes (Chocolate Frogs, because you collected the cards). He even knew how you liked to spend your Sundays (sat in the courtyard with a book and a hot chocolate). Theo was drawn to you, for some unknown reason, and not even he could figure out why.

In the weeks leading up to your exams, you spent an increasing amount of time in the library, studying. Funnily enough, so did Theodore. He wanted to do well academically, even if his friends preferred skiving off and messing with first years. So, that was how he came to speak to you for the first time, five whole months after he was first captivated by you.

"Can I sit here? All the other tables are either occupied or slightly sticky and I don't want to mess up my books"

"Uhh, sure!" Theodore said, shocked that you had even come over to him. "No," he told himself. "She's only over here because nowhere else was free. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You smile at him, and wave your wand to get your books laid out on the desk in front of you.

"Theodore. But you can call me Theo." Theodore said, as he found himself smiling in return.

The two of you started to talk about anything and everything; school, exams, your hobbies, interests, just your lives in general. And that's how Theo realised that, maybe he wasn't such a cold, uncaring teenager after all.

A week or so later, the two of you were sat under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Black Lake, studying for, you guessed it, exams. That moment was when Theo finally plucked up enough courage to ask you something.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"What?" you replied, looking up from your book.

"I was wondering, would you maybe like to, and it's OK if you don't, I don't mind, you don't have to say yes or anything because it's completely your choice-"

"Spit it out, Theo!" you giggled, humoured by his rambling.

"Right. Sorry." Theo said, trying to calm himself down. "Umm, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? And could we possibly go to the Three Broomsticks? You know, just... us?"

Your eyes widened, before you smiled at the boy's worried expression. "Of course! Theo I'd love to."

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before returning to your book, leaving Theodore grinning as if he'd just won the lottery. Which, with you, he basically had.

After You

It had been a while since Theodore Nott had been back at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten the Dark Mark, at his father's force, he had stayed working for The Dark Lord, being a Death Eater. He hated it. It was a life his father had forced him into, a life which wasn't truly his. And now he was back at the one place which had been a home to him, but now he was here to destroy it.

Theo tried to look for you. The one person who he trusted, and the one person who trusted him. Theo wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to kill. He couldn't do that here. His safe place, where his father couldn't physically torture him. Where you were.

Before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Theo was held under the Imperius curse by his father, and the searing skull tattoo, the tattoo that would hurt him forever, was imprinted into his left arm. When school started again, he couldn't bear to tell you, his girlfriend, what had happened. But he did, because between you two, there were no secrets. When you found out, all you were was supportive. You helped Theo though his pain and anguish, but what he didn't know is that when you first found out, you cried for hours. Crying about his future, your future, angry at the world you live in for being so cruel. Crying was really the only thing you could do.

After Dumbledore's death, Theodore did what he thought would be best for your relationship, best for you.

"You can't be serious, Theodore?" you said, trying to keep your voice levelled and clear, holding back the tears.

That hurt Theo. You never called him Theodore, unless you were really frustrated. Which hadn't happened until now. "Y/N please, I have to, it's for your safety."

"My SAFETY? Theo, I couldn't care less about that right now. Please, don't do this." You couldn't hold back any longer. The tears were now streaming down your face.

"I don't want to, but-"

"But what, Theo? I love you!"

"I love you too, but-"

"Then surely that's all that matter?" you say, exasperated. "We love each other. We can run away together, and live in hiding until it's safe for us to come out, to be together."

"No, we can't, you know we can't, we'll be found and then... you'd... You'd be killed." Theo says in a small voice. "And I can't let that happen to you. Please, Y/N, just listen to me. As soon as this is over, we can get back together. We can live together, start over together. But it can't happen now. Not yet. Please, Y/N, wait for me."

You can't stop crying now, and you lean over to Theo and kiss him. "OK. When it's all over. I'll be waiting for you, Theo. You'll definitely come back to me?"

"Of course I will, Y/N. I promise I'll find you."

And of course, that's what he was currently doing. Looking for you. He had been waiting a year to see your face again, hoping you hadn't forgotten about him. However now he couldn't find you. Running through the corridors, shouting you name, dodging curses and rubble, Theo's only goal was to find you. And he did.

There you were at the top of the Astronomy tower, a split lip and wearing a torn blue jumper, you were aiming all sorts of hexes at a Death Eater. Theo was so relieved, and began firing spells at your opponent, until he was knocked unconscious. At that point, Theo kicked the limp body over the balcony, not caring what would happen.

"Y/N." Theo smiled. "I told you I'd come back."

You pulled Theo into a hug and kissed him. "Theo!" you breathed.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N." All Theo could do was look into your bright, tearful eyes, relieved that he could see you once again before-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

That fateful curse.

A flash of green light.

Your body fell limp in Theo's arms.

Your eyes lost their brightness.

"NO!"

Theo tried to pull you up, tried to hold you tight, but it was no use. You were gone. Theo looked up to see your murderer, looking him in the eyes. His father.

Your death at the hands of Nott Sr. ensured Nott Sr.'s death at the hands of his son. That was the first and last time that Theodore Nott would ever use the killing curse, and it only made sense for it to be on the person that used it on the two people who he had loved most in the world.

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, most of Voldemort's supporters were dead, captured, or had fled the scene when it was evident that they were losing. But two Death Eaters stayed behind, simply because they couldn't bear to leave the castle like this. They felt it was partly their fault. Those two Death Eaters were Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire.

Whilst everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Enzo wandered the, now ruined, corridors of a place he loved so dearly. What he didn't expect to find his best friend, leaning on the crumbled wall of the Astronomy tower, cradling someone in his arms. Not to mention the fact that his father lay on the ground mere feet away.

"Please, Y/N, you can't be dead, you can't. I came back for you I-"

"Theo?" Enzo inquired, sitting on the floor next to his best friend, who was in fits of tears.

"He killed her, Enz. He killed her so- So I killed him. I had to."

"It's OK, Theo." Enzo replied, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, and letting him cry.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, with the sound of everyone in the castle talking and grieving the loss of friends and family. The two could have been down there with them, celebrating the demise of the people who made their lives hell.

But instead, all Theodore Nott could think about is what should've been.

[ot3]

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

What is it, and why you should read it.

(Art by purple)

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere is a currently updating webserial by author Lurina. It's one of my favorite things I've read in a long while and I'd like to convince you all to give it a chance.

My elevator pitch is this: A time-loop murder mystery directly inspired by Umineko, with a lot of similar vibes to the Locked Tomb Trilogy - partially due to it's meditations on grief and mortality and partially due to it's far-future magical sci-fi world where we follow a fucked up lesbian necromancer on a task she is determined to see through to the end. A deeply complex, unique, and believable world that plays hosts to one of the best interpersonal dynamics I've read.

In a future so far-flung that it is past the heat death of the universe, humanity has constructed a new society that is post-scarcity but not post-stratification. Utsushikome of Fusai is one amongst a class of prodigious young medical arcanists (essentially grad students) who are invited to visit a recently legitimized conclave of top-of-the-line researchers studying immortality. Accompanying Su is her best friend Ran, a fellow arcanist. Over the course of the novel we begin to slowly unravel exactly what ulterior motives have brought them to this conclave and how events in their childhoods and years of working toward their shared goal has warped their relationship into what we now see. This relationship is the crown jewel of Flower's narrative, and getting to peel back the layers of it as you read is a delight.

Like Umineko, Flower is a murder mystery that prevents itself with in-universe Rules that dictate the murders' parameters, meaning there's a lot to chew on for anyone who likes solving mysteries. For those that don't, like myself, Flower offers instead a richly developed world and plenty of open questions about the sociopolitical and metaphysical implications of its own worldbuilding.

Below the cut, I'll go into more detail about the series (without spoilers!) for those of you whose interest has been piqued.

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere is currently ongoing, updating every few weeks. It's several hundred thousand words, so if you're looking for something substantial to keep you entertained, you've got it. As you might expect from the length, the pacing is decently slow. I don't see this as a bad thing at all, because within this pacing Lurina dripfeeds the readers enough new and interesting information at a regular rate that it never feels like your time is being wasted. But if you can't handle slow burns, I wouldn't recommend this one for you.

If you enjoyed the Zero Escape series and liked that they stopped solving murder puzzles to infodump about fringe science, I think you'll get a lot out of Flower. Characters are frequently interrupting their life-or-death scenarios to have lofty, philosophical and political discussions. It's a ton of fun if you like reading characters argue.

'People have to sleep.' 'People have to work.' 'People have to die.' But those were just vague rules, phrasing I'd used because it had been easier in the context of that conversation. What really mattered, on the day-to-day level, was the idea that it was all for something. If someone invented a elixir that made people not to need to sleep, it would, in retrospect, recontextualize all nights everyone ever wasted sleeping as wastes of time. Not something that occurred for some inherent purpose, but whims of circumstance, a tragedy of when you happened to be born. If you accepted that all unfair things in the world could be removed, if only someone knew how - fatigue, labor, death - then to exist in the world we had now, with all its grotesque imperfections, was to know that you had been violated by fate.

Along those lines it's just got a sense of humor I really enjoy. Pretty dry and cavalier. It manages to keep the mood light without feeling like it's undermining it's own stakes. I'm particularly fond of Su's penchant for telling incredibly depressing suicide jokes that just Do Not Land.

The peer pressure cut into me like a hot knife. I hesitated a little, biting my lip. "Well, uh, okay. I'll just tell a quick one." I swallowed, my mind quickly scrambling. "Okay, so, there's a woman who runs a dispensary for second hand goods. She sees a man come in who's a regular customer. He's kind of a mess-- Has a big beard, a bad complexion. He buys a razor, and tells her he needs it to clean himself up, because he has a date." I could see that I now had Ophelia's attention and that Kam was looking pleased with herself, but Ran was watching me, too. I could see the look in her eyes. It screamed at me, with such vividity that it could be sold at an art gallery: You better not be telling a suicide joke right now, or we're going to have a talk. But it was too late. The wheels were already in motion.

As I mentioned up top, the relationship between Ran and Su is just one of my favorite interpersonal dynamics ever. Period. The author is playing some insanely complicated 5th dimensional yuri chess and I am absolutely here for it as someone who likes characters who are deeply devoted to each other in a way that is deeply deeply fraught. I cant emphasize enough how obsessed I am with what they have going on.

Additionally, as stated, the worldbuilding in Flower is top tier. The author clearly understands how every part of her world functions, which makes the moral quandaries and politics presented all the more impactful because they're very believable. It's hard to talk about Flower's world without spoiling too much of the specifics that get slowly revealed, but it doesn't fall back on any typical sci-fi standard fare and feels like a breath of fresh air amongst recycled and repetitive worldbuilding tropes.

A lot of really fun side characters. Strong voices for all of the supporting cast (♥♥Kamrusepa♥♥) and even though not every character gets their own arc, they all clearly have plenty of interiority. Once again, another thing that makes Flower feel very believable despite it's absurdities.

Autism

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with anyone?" She eyed him. "Anyone who seemed tense?" "Saoite, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but half of our class is so autistic that they constantly seem tense. You might as well ask me to find a specific turd in a sewer." "Just answer the question, please," she replied flatly.

Guys it's really good just trust me I don't want to spoil you for the more intricate plot beats but they're doing some crazy shit here. It's never a bad time to support an independent author's project. If you're sick of corporate mass-media and stuff needing to be marketable, getting into independent works owned and supported by individual creators is a great way to push back against that. I highly recommend it.

[themareverine]

🎉God Laughs | DoFP!Logan x fem!OC | TEASER

synopsis: 'I'll love you in every time, Logan, that I know. Just say the word." So much hinged on so little, and it doesn’t make any damn sense. They all knew it—their moments, any of them, ceased to exist if he didn't do this—this unspeakable thing, the only thing that would keep any of them alive.

warnings: time travel elements, AU, pre-established relationship, some angst, a big age gap due to time travel.

a/n: happy thirtieth birthday to me, I’ve been dreaming about this fic for weeks. finally landed on writing it for myself, for my birthday. 🎉🥂

READ IT HERE

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | TAGLIST🏷️ let me know if you want added!

I'll love you in every time, Logan, that I know. Just say the word.

Pain in his chest had ripped him from the cool ether, snapped him awake in an arctic sweat. Pebbled with goosebumps and twisted in damp sheets, he’d ripped off the layers of blankets with gusto enough to carve canyons.

Rousted from apparent sleeping arrangements, the world swims as he attempted to scrub life back into his face—to feel.

Parts of him were still sorting themselves out deep in his tissues, Logan could almost count his cells unscrambling. Never would he wish the kinesthetics of memories sorting themselves into brain matter on any man, enemy or otherwise.

One thing was painfully clear from the jump, a branding iron seared into the folds of his brain—her face. Her features. Every moment spent together, every sweet nothing she’d ever said. Honey salve on gaping wounds, he could smell her. Taste her, even in time.

It’s the one memory that doesn’t need sorting, that seems welded into his biology, his very being—her.

Her face, her name, her laugh. More a part of him than he’d ever know, he carries her in the low of his spine, a simmering heat that starves. A man could die, aching for a woman like he burns for her.

Aching in memories that feel foreign in this body, like dreams. But they are more real than he’ll ever confess—more real than sunlight or air, than scripture etched into faraway stones. The song of the world, the prayer of the universe.

Logan had never believed in soulmates—until fate had split him down the middle. He’d never known he was missing part of himself, until he’d tasted of her goodness. Her sweetness. Her beauty and strength and insecurity that had fallen through his fingers like butter.

Time is his enemy, and there’s very little room to reminisce. That comes later. Much, much later.

taglist: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @eternallyfrustratedwriter @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I believe Aang was right to end the war by sparing Ozai. But the only (imho) valid reason some people say he should have done it is because they wanted Aang to realize that pacifism is flawed.

I'm gonna disagree with you here, because a lot of the flaws fans talk about pacism and how ATLA in particular handles it as a concept are 99%:

1 - People being ignorant/racist and not knowing the difference between pacifist monks and "make love, not war" hippies.

2 - People being ignorant/racist and refusing to understand that there are different kinds of pacifism, even within the same cultures/people groups.

Aang is very clearly not the type of pacifist to go "You can NEVER react with ANY kind of violence towards someone else, even if it's to defend yourself/someone else" (which does exist, both IRL and in the show, just look at the owl spirit in "The Library").

We see him fight, and even be quite aggressive in said fights, in a lot of episodes. We also see he has no issues with invading the Fire Nation. More importantly, for the longest time the Avatar State was a result of him being pissed off enough at some kind of injustice that it makes him lose control, meaning he is very clearly affected by the horrors of war to the point of RAGE.

What makes him a pacifist is the way in which he doesn't WANT to lose control, doens't WANT go from aggressive to full on cruel, and, yes, wants to defeat his enemies, but not kill them.

And as I keep repeating, the show DOES make him question that last boundary he set for himself. He gets told by a past Avatar, who was also an air-nomad before anything, that, when there is such a large threat to everyone's life, including his own, he has to put aside his own spiritual needs and take a life - provided there isn't another option. But there was, so Aang took that, even after he decided that, yes, if there was no other way, he WOULD kill Ozai.

What people don't like is that Avatar, although questioning some types of pacifism, is far more interested in questioning the way people are WAY too eager to use violence to solve their issues, and, more importantly, expect someone else to get their hands bloody.

Fire Lord Sozin starts the war because he, according to himself at least, wants what's best for everyone and would like to share the Fire Nation's glory and great life with the other nations. He tries to do by invading foreign territories, killing his best friend, and commiting genocide. The fucker even has the dragons, an obvious Fire Nation symbol, to be hunted to extintion.

When Jet is angry at the Gaang for ruining his plan to free a village from the Fire Nation's control by blowing up a dam, Sokka asks "Who would be free? Everyone would be dead."

Zuko is banished because he spoke out against a Fire Nation higher-up's plan to use soldiers as fresh meat to bait the enemy into a more vulnerable position, thus assuring the nation's victory in that battle. He openly says "These men love and defend our nation, how can you betray them?"

When Zhao wants to kill the moon spirit, Iroh tries to stop him by pointing out that the Fire Nation needs the moon too (seriously, if it wasn't for Yue's sacrifice and Zhao's death, the Fire Nation would have had to create a word for "Big-ass wave that wrecks everything and kills people" like Japan did).

When Aang is deliberately trying to trigger the Avatar State because he doesn't want anyone else to die in the war, Katara, who had her life ruined by said war, is against it because while she opposes the Fire Nation, she cares about Aang and, in her own words, seeing him in so much pain and rage hurts her too. When Aang can't force himself to go nuclear, an Earth Kingdom ruler attacks Katara and makes both her and Aang, two very traumatized child soldiers, think he is going to kill her.

More importantly, when Ozai wants to burn down Earth Kingdom cities, he says "A new world will rise from the ashes, and I'll be supreme ruler of everything", to which Zuko concludes that, if they don't save the world before his dad takes over, there won't be a world to save.

And what does he say to Aang when he is about to kill him? "You're weak, just like your people. They didn't deserve to live in world, in my world."

Avatar does questions pacifism, and is critical of it on ocasion (again, watch "The Library"). But it's biggest theme is being critical of VIOLENCE, of resorting to it immediately without considering any other option and acting like it doesn't have long-lasting negative consequences, both to the person suffering it to the person inflicting it (see Azula's breakdown, Zuko's angry outburts only making him more miserable, Jeong Jeong growing to resent being a firebender, Zhao accidentally burning his own ships, etc)

The show is constantly highlighting that, yes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good - but that CAN'T be normalized because it inevitably leads to a never-ending cicle of cruelty, as well as suffering to the one who has to do the dirty job (because lets not forget there's a big difference in how a soldier that is constantly in battle sees the war and how a king that just gives the orders but never goes into the actual combat sees the war).

The show embraces pacifism, despite knowing some versions of it are flawed, because the narratives themes are:

1 - EVERYONE is capable of great good and great evil

2 - No group has the right to impose it's own lifestyle onto others

3 - If everyone is either dead, mentally (and physically) scarred for life, or preparing to kill someone as revenge, then being killed by someone who wants to avenge that person, who will themselves be killed for revenge later, then the "greater good" you're sacrificing everything for doesn't actually exist because NO ONE will have a good life in a world that is stuck in the cicle of violence.

[thegnomelord]

What about Monster!AU for prompt 5. Male reader and price please :)

Sure thing anon, made it a mage reader again, was trying to study for a 'lovely' surprise test but inspiration decided to strike me :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot.”

CW:NSFW, switch/power bottom Dragon Price, Male Mage reader, Oral, Anal, shower sex, semi public sex, reader is oblivious for a bit.

Price swears his hair and scales are going to go completely gray because of you.

You've been avoiding him for a week now, and all the base knows why — Price can still hear your desperate voice begging and bargaining with whatever will listen "I'll buy you dinner please-just stay alive- I love you- damn it you slimy bastard don't you dare die on me-" as you try to keep him alive, magic flowing from your arms to heal the gaping hole in his side despite the bullets raining overhead; a valiant knight protecting him like he's a prince instead of a dragon.

And Price can remember the way his heart had fluttered at your words, at the way you had hugged him so firmly to keep him safe as your magic raged all around you like a wild force of nature, at the way you looked at him so tenderly— eyes burning with mana like the gaze of a god he's your most prized possession —right before the blood loss made him black out.

But now that Price was out of the hospital, his side permanently marked with your magic and a hefty load of paperwork on his desk, you were acting like you never said anything. Anytime someone brings it up you just ignore them, ignore him, throwing yourself into training as much as you can. And it's getting on his nerves, his draconic blood making anger and malcontent burn in his bones because you'd looked at him like a mate but now it's like he doesn't exist beyond training and missions.

He knows it's against the rules, knows he shouldn't hope for much when he sets out to find you, but he does. It's not hard; though his sensitive nose easily picks up the stench of magic, it's the lingering mana burrowed into his skin that tugs him in a direction, even the foreign parts of him wanting you. He finds you alone in the training room, the ground around you scorched beyond hell.

"We need ta' talk lad." Price rumbles as he closes the door behind him, the deep thrum of his voice hiding the anxious pressure he feels in his chest.

Your head whips to look at him. Price cherishes the way your eyes soften when you see him like a glittering gem. Then a sea of ice settles over your eyes, and you turn your head back to the target dummy as if looking at Price makes you sick. "Nothing to talk about captain."

"That so?" Price asks like he doesn't believe you, because he doesn't. Ancient instincts tug on his mind and he follows them. You know he knows what's plaguing your mind, both of you are aware of the elephant in the room and Price can see the way your shoulders progressively tense as he draws near. But you're a stubborn fool, you refuse to show how his presence makes your heart beat faster despite how each of his steps rings like a gunshot in your ears.

Your mind fails to conjure up words but you force an "Hmh," out of your throat, trying to ignore how Price is so close to you, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His remaining wing stretches out, scales and leathery membranes barely brushing over your shoulder, but the intent is clear; the claim is clear.

You try to ignore him, ignore yourself, clinging to the sensation of your sharp mana digging into your veins as you summon another bout of magic to shoot at the training dummy, whisps of formless energy quickly forming into your preferred element.

His hand settles on your hip, not enough to make you loose focus just yet. "Because last ah remember," He leans in closer, the smell of black coffee and cigars on his breath. This close he can smell you instead of your magic, his chest rumbling against your back with a happy purr. "you promised me dinner if I lived."

You nearly choke on air, your magic sputtering out like an old car engine. "I-" You whirl around, your noses almost touching from how close you are. "-that's not what I'd meant!"

His heart should break at that, but before it can his sensitive ears pick up how rapidly your heart's pounding in your chest, reptilian eyes noting how you're flushed more than usual, breathing rapidly without even noticing it.

"Really now?" That greedy part in his bones urges him on, begging and pleading for him to just take you. His other hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you in place, close to him just like he wants. "Then ah suppose all that 'bout me bein' a slimy bastard was also not true?"

You want to flinch away but can't, your own body a traitor to you, a deep frown tugging on your lips. "Price, I wasn't-"

"And-" He cuts you off by leaning even closer, his forehead resting against yours and fuck, your head fits perfectly between his horns, like you belong there. "-I must've misheard you when you said you loved me?" He raises an eyebrow, voice both teasing and serious, holding his breath.

Just that small contact of skin on skin has your resolve crumbling like sand, "Listen, just-" You suck in a sharp breath, the situation both bliss and hell for you. “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot. Okay? And just-" You try to stammer the same lies you'd tell yourself every time you'd catch yourself thinking of him more than just your captain (which was way too often).

Price's clawed hand grips your chin and manually closes your mouth, his smooth scales cool against your warm body. You forget to breathe, your eyes flickering all over his face as he smirks, voice deep and guttural like the rumble of moving tectonic plates. "Then I'm an idiot too."

The world goes completely silent as he kisses you, holding your head still so he can claim your lips for himself, his deep purr shaking both of your chests when you submit so easily to him, like getting a gulp of fresh air after years of drowning.

You're so lost in his taste and his scent and just him you don't notice when Price roughly pulls you into the showers, tail and wing and arms holding your body; as if your brain could even conjure the thought of leaving. Bursts of awareness assault your mind every time you part for a breath and to displace a piece of clothing, his sharp claws tickling your skin as he can't wait and just cuts through your remaining clothes.

Clawed fingers grip your hair and tilt your head back, exposing your throat to sharp fangs and you submit easily, trusting him not to hurt you too much. Low sounds rumble in your throat as Price marks you, biting one spot until it bleeds your mana rich blood, greedily drinking up the crimson droplets and soothing the wound with his tongue just enough for the sting to become pleasant before biting again. Bite, lick, bite, lick, bite, lick— chest rumbling with satisfaction he pulls away, "Oh, look at you," He growls, your throat turned into a warzone, "So handsome, like a charming knight."

You snort and grip his hips, the water of the shower raining down the two of you. "Yeah?" You ask as you turn him around, pushing his chest against the wall as you drop to your knees. "Gonna let me lay you?" You ask, kissing down his spine, your rough hands groping and fondling his ass.

"Wanker," Price growls and lifts his tail, revealing his hole to you. You almost cum on the spot from the sight of it, looking every bit what you'd imagined he'd look like. But you don't get to look for long before his tail wraps around your throat, soft underbelly scales scraping against your bruised throat as he pulls you closer. "Only, if you prove your worth."

You don't need a formal invitation, pushing your tongue out as you slobber all over his hole, your hands keeping his asscheeks spread so you can worm your tongue into his hole, feeling him clench around your tongue, his moans ringing like angel song in your ears. His claws tangle in your hair, pushing your head even closer to worship him better. And you do, like a pious believer you lick and suck and nibble around his hole, your nose buried in the space between his ass and tail, barely able to breathe but it's a small price to pay.

Finally he grows greedy for more, his tail releases a fraction and he shoves you, making you fall back on your ass, your cock standing like a flagpole. You only manage to rise up on your elbows before Price jumps on you like the beast he is, thigh powerful thighs bracketing your own, his clawed fingers scraping against your skin as they settle on your shoudlers.

"Now then," Price rumbles like an ancient mountain, reptilian eyes hooded with lust. He feels on top of the world with the way you look at him, like a desperate mutt, your cock hard like a rock between his legs. "Stay still, mighty knight, an-" Price lifts himself up, positioning your cockhead at his puckered rim. "-relax."

The running water muffles your combined groans, his walls hot and tight like the fire in his chest. His weight bears down on you, wing stretching out in a show of pleasure, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants. "Fuck," Price growls, grinding his hips down into yours. "Feel so good, lad."

You grunt, your hands fitting on his hips like they always belonged there. Magic sparks across your arms as pleasure steadily erases your ability to think, but his thick scales keep him safe, a pleased groan leaving his chest as he starts bouncing on you, chasing his own pleasure. You can do nothing but hang on, your hips rising to meet his downward thrust, Price's lips swallowing your moans. You don't have enough sense in your head left to care if anyone was to come in and see you, your mind fully consumed by him.

You cum way too soon, your orgasm sneaking up to you, lightning rushing down your spine and magic sparking across your arms as your brain leaks out of your ears, shooting cum up into his greedy walls.

"Good- good lad." Price grinds his teeth, never stopping his bouncing, lewd sounds ringing through the showers from the way your cum squelches inside him. He rides you past the sting of overstimulation right back to hardness. His hand grabs yours, placing it over the scars on his abdomen where your magic had stitched him back together, greed and lust fueling his desires. "Protected me so good, yeah?" His hips never cease moving, that draconic endurance coming in handy to absolutely wrecking you. "Let me take care of you,"

And like a proper mate, you let him do as he pleases.