#i was trying to calm down and i got messages and it reminded me of a point i forgot to make earlier because i triggered myself but now that

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[mayiluv]

♡Hashiras react to you kissing them on their forehead♡

Masterlist

Kyojuro Rengoku

He's surprised and confused. He will look at you and say "Thanks [Name] !" Without knowing what you meant by that.

He doesn't mind it tho, quite the opposite. He would take it as a praise and even subtly ask for it whenever he finish training.

"[Name]! Have you seen what I did? It was impressive wasn't it?"

Kiss his forehead again and he'll tackle you into a hug.

Gyomei Himejima

First of all, I don't think you'll be able to kiss his forehead when he's standing. You can try when he's sitting tho.

He would turn his head to where you are (I know he's blind but blind people can stil know where you are thanks to other senses) and would start crying.

"You are yoo kind for this world, bless your soul."

Otherwise he likes getting forehead kisses as goodnight kiss since it's the only time you can reach him.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

My boy Sanemi would probably jumps two feet away from you as soon as your lips make contact with his skin.

"I'm not a toddler anymore. Tsk."

You can try to explain him you meant no harm but that won't calm him down. Because the only reason he acts mad is because he doesn't want you to see him flustered.

He doesn't really like receiving forehead kisses. It makes him feel like a child and mostly...It reminds him of his mother.

Obanai Iguro

He's so shy, he'll turn around and let Kaburamaru face you. You headpat Kaburamaru and Obanai would probably turn around the moment you want to headpat his pet so he could receive the headpat.

He wants to kiss yours back but is too ashamed of his face to properly do it. So instead would force hug you because he doesn't want you to think he doesn't liked it.

"Sorry I can't kiss you back."

Reassure him with more kisses.

Giyu Tomioka

He stood there cluelessly looking at you. Do you wanted something from him ? Are you trying to transfer a message ? Should he be worried ?

He overthink everything and will end up dozing off looking at you. Once you explain he'll nod like he just learned something new.

"Alright [Name]. I'll make sure to remember next time."

Next time he would blush and lean in the kiss. Kinda like a cat.

Mitsuri Kanroji

She would blush and shake her hands agressively in the air confused. You'd stood there watching her with a smile.

"[Name]-chan! W-what was that for ?"

She would shyly looks down, if you hug her and pats her head and she would melt into your arms and become as pink as her hair.

Uzui Tengen

Honestly, he would straight up take you in his arms and then walks away. He's used to kisses since he got THREE wives.

But he's going to tease you about it no matter what you say.

"Very flashy of you I may admit, but you should've think twice before doing so!"

Yeah....You get what I mean

Muichiro Tokito

He would stay still and fixes you waiting for something else.

"what is it ?"

He doesn't get it. That was out of pocket but he liked it. It was making him feel warm inside.

He'd probably do it back to you not knowing what it means.

Shinobu Kocho

She would be surprised AND do it back to you.

She didn't like the feeling of being treated like a child but at the same time she liked the feeling of security that she got from it.

"You're so adorable sweetie."

You get a headpat from her.

Talk to me!

[endzithefangirl]

Sleepy interruptions

Authors note: Hello, I'm back. Don't ask why or how I wrote this Max Verstappen blurb, but here we are. Also, I have like 8 more fanfics that I've been working on that I plan on publishing at some point (you can thank @angelussiderum for always reminding me to write).

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes Max's stream

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified but the term 'girlfriend' is used, sleep deprivation? is that a warning

Word count: 516

You hated these long working hours, especially now during the summer. You can hear Max streaming on ‘Red Line’ in the other room. Now, 9.9 times out of ten, you wouldn’t bother him. But… You just haven't seen him in almost 20 hours and it's already 11pm... So, you walk into the streaming room. Max was sitting behind a huge PC that had about 4 screens; his monitors were showing a game that he was playing while he is streaming on his main monitor.

"Come on... come on.... there…!" He mutters as he plays, too caught up in his game to notice you entering the room. You, in your sleep deprivation and probably from too much diet Pepsi, just walk towards him and wrap your arms around him from behind, not giving two shits who sees at this point. His eyes widen as he feels your arms around him and turns his head enough for only you to hear him speak so that the stream doesn't hear him.

"Baby... you know I'm streaming right now…"

You can see he's surprised, but more confused, as you never really walk in when he's streaming. You, again in the sleep deprived state running on practically nothing, kiss his cheek very softly. It was maybe too tender as his face goes red and whatever he was about to say is forgotten. His mind went blank for a moment, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he stares at you. He wanted to say something or protest, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, his brain having stopped fully functioning after your unexpected actions.

"B-baby... I'm…" He stutters out, slowly processing what had just happened and trying to regain control by turning his gaze back to the game on his screen. You move away and then leave, your mind taking you straight to bed.

'Ohhh look who just made a stream debut, huh Max?' one of his friends from the stream laughed as Max attempted to compose himself. Max let out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself enough to respond. "Y-yeah, unexpected cameo from my girlfriend..." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke and feeling how warm his cheeks were by now, he knew he probably looked like a tomato.

The chat started to flood with more messages as people saw how flustered Max had been and saw this as an opportunity to tease him

'Looooooool brooo you didn't know what to say to your gf'

'Did she just interrupt your game?'

'Man your cheeks are so red bro are you blushing??'

Max was silently cursing everything and everyone at that moment, including you, even if it was your actions, or lack of actions, that got him into this messy situation in the first place. He took a deep and shaky exhale trying to calm himself down so he could come up with a decent excuse to explain to chat

"Shut up guys... I just wasn't expecting that to happen... my girlfriend usually doesn't come into my room while I'm streaming... obviously"

[hotheadedhero]

Baby Bump

AN: A little insight to how the turtles are during your pregnancy because, I dunno, it's cute to think about and fever got me rn

2003 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Whilst Leo is sensible and typically thinks before he acts, he once made the sore mistake of telling you to calm down when hormones were particularly unforgiving. He had only meant to ease you in the gentlest way possible but it wasn't taken as such. You could have given Raph a run for his money, jeez. That being said, the brother in question did have some sage advice to give in that when things are already wracking your nerves, the last thing you need to hear is 'calm down'. He supposes he should have known that but he isn't used to you wearing a short fuse.

That has been by-the-by now and it's clear that a lot is going on the closer you get to the nine-month mark. He doesn't want you to get stressed out. There's no imagining the strains your body must be going through, so he makes a point of eliminating as much hassle as possible. Need peace and quiet? He'll take his brothers top side to give you space. Chores and general responsibilities that require a lot of movement? A thing of the past. He took on your share of duties as soon as your bump started to show.

Expect frequent pampering and looking after from this man, some of which is in the form of meditation. His favourite way of doing this is with you sitting facing one another, close enough so the feet and knees of your crossed legs are touching. In this particular session, you're having a little more trouble clearing your mind. It seems someone is a little active in making their presence known, kicking and poking against the inside of your belly. Leo peeks an eye open, breathing a short chuckle, and places his hand on your stomach.

In almost an instant, the baby stops and settles, leaving you both with a widened stare in each other's direction. Seems the message came across. Whether it's pure coincidence or not, it makes his heart melt and his pride grow. There's still some time to go before he gets to meet this bundle of joy but he's already so proud.

Raphael

Raph likes to carry you around when you're too tired to do so yourself. Does this change as the bump grows? Like hell, it does. Despite how much you insist that you're too heavy, he continues to carry you from place to place. It's like killing two birds with one stone: your feet can get some rest and he can make his flirtatious remarks about how much you love his strength. Try as you may to refute this, he's quick to remind you of how you got pregnant in the first place. That always shuts you up.

With how big your belly has gotten, his current favourite way of cuddling is when you're sat on his lap, back pressed against his chest, so that he can rub your stomach and keep you both close to him. It's the perfect means to lull you to sleep for those long days of carrying the baby around. Although, it gives him amble opportunity to think, to envision this future, and worse of all to get worried.

What if this kid doesn't like him? What if he doesn't like this kid? He isn't exactly well-versed with children and this isn't something he can practise for either. He thinks about how difficult he was growing up, how much trouble he caused, and if karma will bestow him the same treatment. That would just be his luck, wouldn't it?

Too scared to bring up the subject with you, Mikey's the only one who manages to get it through his skull that there are going to be difficulties. No family is perfect, especially them, and everyone here seems to be pretty happy, right? Right. He can hardly argue with that, even if it is advice from his bonehead of a brother. Raphael can't anticipate what this lifestyle is going to be like but the two of you are in it together, always.

Donatello

The stereotype that the soon-to-be mum is the one who gets in a tizzy about keeping tabs on the baby's progress couldn't be more wrong in this instance. Not to say that Donatello has been stir-crazy on the whole thing - at least not since you kindly suggested that he need not worry so much - but he's been taking all of the precautionary measures to ensure you and your shared creation are safe and healthy. Good thing technology has its collective perks once again; tracking with you every step of the way with this baby app you both downloaded.

He may or may not have taken the liberty of making an ultrasound machine from old hospital equipment he's found in several junk yards. Don't worry, everything has been sanitised to perfect cleanliness for your benefit and safety. He wouldn't want to feed into the irony by making you ill by trying to help. The only mishaps are when he almost blows himself up but what's new? Your heart swells with affection for the turtle who is so dedicated to making this experience special, even if it means there are a few mechanical hiccups along the way.

Whilst the aid of machines is sweet and all, you do assure him that he's enough without them. Bless the eccentric genius for what he does but in doing all of this, he actually ends up spending a little less time with you than you would hope.

That's when he gets into massages. He knows what methods are best for rolling out those tight muscles but identifying which parts of the body are suffering most is where he's a little stumped. Luckily, when it comes to pressure points, Leo has plenty of sage advice to give on that one, along with aligning your chakras, and it's come in handy. Donnie isn't sure you've ever melted so much into him.

Michelangelo

It's been a learning experience for you both as to be expected but there are so many things that Mikey wouldn't have even thought about with you being pregnant. Mood swings were to be expected but not of this magnitude. Thankfully, if they're particularly bad, you're never short of a good distraction and a laugh when it comes to this guy. He'll do anything for his special lady. At least, where he can.

What he's disliked the most from your list of tribulations is how nauseous you get. Worst of all it's when you go off certain foods completely. That's why he's put so much time into figuring out new recipes and trying to make sense of all this dietary stuff. If he's being honest, all the vitamin mumbo jumbo has been the most confusing part of it.

No worries! Big bro Donnie is here to save the day by simply listing what foods should work best and what your body really needs - mostly folic acid and electrolytes. He has no idea what these things are, even after browsing the internet, but the main matter is making sure you get them in your system. Hey, he's never one to turn down new recipes for his portfolio, so it's an added win. The real win here, in your eyes, is the fact that he's applied all of this for the sake of looking after you.

He's been excited about showing your baby all of his comic books but he's too impatient for his own good. During the evenings, he'll read his comics to your bump, describing the pictures and making sound effects to help create the image. Rest assured, you're probably going to have a little comic book lover in the making.

Splinter has been a quiet observer, feeling ever so proud of his son for taking to oncoming fatherhood as naturally as he had himself all those years ago. It isn't without its hiccups but this is a journey full of both wonderful and scary learning experiences, even before the arrival of little feet. There's a lot to prepare for.

As a soon-to-be grandfather, he'll do his part to make sure you are comfortable. Most of this involves checking on you when he can and calming teas to keep your mind and soul calm. And, perhaps, the odd soap or two on TV for when the boys are making their rounds on the surface. It's a small pass time but one he thoroughly enjoys partaking in whilst keeping you company and it goes without saying that you feel the same, thankful for his like-mindedness for the domestic simplicities.

[puckinghischier]

Surprise…?

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke gets hurt during a game

notes: y’all i think i struggle writing luke for some reason. i just never seem to really like what i write when i write for him. wtf am i doing wrong 😩

request: can you do a post on luke Hughes getting badly injured the game at umich and both older brothers are there and get worried over him and major fluff

i strayed away a bit from the michigan aspect because i don’t feel comfy writing about college hockey players, so i changed it up a bit. i hope you still enjoy!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

There weren’t many times you regretted moving to Jersey, but right now was one of them. The constant traffic within the city wasn’t something that usually got under your skin, but today it was the absolute bane of your existence. Of course, you were in a hurry. A big one. You had approximately thirty minutes until puck drop, and you needed to get there before that puck hit that ice. No exceptions. You hadn’t told Luke what you were doing, so he probably already expected you to be there, wondering why you’re not in your usual seat for warm-ups.

As if he could hear your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Luke, not being able to read what it said while trying to weave in and out of traffic.

“Quinn, can you see what Luke just sent. And then tell him I’m on my way. I don’t want him worrying that I’m not showing tonight,” you ask the Hughes brother currently in your passenger seat.

Quinn grabbed your phone from the cupholder, listening to you rattle off your passcode so he can open Luke’s message.

“He asked where you were, and if you were already there. Wanted to know why you weren’t in your seat for warm ups,” Quinn confirms your thoughts, looking to you for an answer.

“Tell him I’m just running late. Be there before puck drop. And tell him I love him and good luck.”

You hear the sound of Quinn typing your reply as you increase your speed, cursing the people who want to drive below the speed limit in the fast lane. This is what you get for trying to be a good girlfriend and surprise your boyfriend and his brother. You get stuck on the road with New Jersey’s worst drivers.

In your defense, you were supposed to already be safely at the arena in your seats, but Quinn’s airline had different plans. His flight being delayed by three hours gave you barely enough time to run and grab him from the airport and make it back to the Rock before the hockey game started. The only thing saving your ass right now is the fact that if you can just get there, you can go through the player entrance and avoid the crowds trying to get in at the last minute.

“If you don’t calm down and drive like a sane person, we’re never going to get there. We’ll be squashed on the side of the road,” Quinn scolds you, grasping what your dad always called the ‘oh shit’ handles.

“If I can just get around these idiots in front of me we’ll be fine. We’re almost at our exit, then I just have to pull around back and we’re in,” you tell him, once again pressing the gas pedal a little harder.

Quinn stays silent the rest of the drive, closing his eyes once you start speeding around the other cars on the freeway, finally getting to the right exit and rushing to the underground parking that the players always park in. You pull your car into the spot next to Jack’s, barely even turning the car off before you’re jumping out and sprinting to the entrance.

“C’mon, Quinn! I know you can move faster than that! We only have a few minutes! Move it!” You yell over your shoulder, Quinn barely having gotten out of the car.

“Remind me to never let you drive ever again,” is all he says as he catches up to you, looking a little greener than before.

The two of you make it inside the arena with no issues, sprinting to your seats just as the national anthem finishes, both teams sending their starting lines out on the ice.

You had managed to snag Quinn a seat next to you, asking the team’s manager for a favor to help surprise their rookie defenseman. With no hesitation, he handed you a ticket and a locker room pass for Quinn, knowing how homesick Luke had been lately. You had thanked him a million times, asking him to keep it a secret from both Jack and Luke, not wanting either one of them to know until the day of. He gave you his word, and was also the reason you were given access to the player parking for the night, not wanting Quinn to be ambushed by fans going through the regular entrance.

You felt your heart rate start to slow once you were both situated in your seats, glad that you had made it in time. Neither Jack nor Luke had looked over and noticed you yet. You wondered if they were going to clock Quinn before they took their stances on the ice.

Your question was soon answered as Jack looked back and saw you, waving and turning to get Luke’s attention before he did a double take, noticing the brunette sitting to you left. Quinn gave a small wave, flashing his younger brother a smile as you watched Jack’s eyes widen, mouth curving into beaming smile. Luke had turned back, looking in your direction, a relieved smile on his face once he noticed you were finally in your spot, eyes too focused on your figure to notice Quinn’s next to you. It wasn’t until he looked over at Jack and followed his gaze that he finally noticed his oldest brother in the crowd, a Devil’s hat on his head.

Luke’s eyes flicked over to you once again, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ to you, your only response a shrug of the shoulders and a smirk on your face.

The two brothers quickly focused their attention to the officials on the ice, lowered into their stances, waiting for the puck to drop onto the ice.

“You know they’re going to compete now, right?” Quinn says as he elbows you to get your attention.

“Why would they compete? They’re literally playing for the same team. It doesn’t matter who scores as long as the team wins,” you respond, confused at Quinn’s words.

“It matters now. They do the same thing when mom or dad come to watch them. They want the praise. They want to be able to out perform the other so they can brag about it to me after the game,” Quinn clarifies.

“I don’t know about that. Jack’s been good about trying to set Luke up for success all year, I think they’ll surprise you.”

Quinn gives you a skeptical look, not believing your words, but lets it go otherwise; his attention quickly stolen by the sound of the puck hitting the ice, followed by clashing sticks and skates scraping against the frozen floor.

Much to your surprise, Quinn proved to be right. All throughout the first period, the two brothers fought to get the puck, sometimes even fighting against one another. You noticed the odd looks from their teammates, Nico even skating over to Jack during a tv timeout to ask him what was up, not having seen the pair act like this before. You kept throwing glares at Luke, trying to tell him to knock it off, that they’re playing for the same team, but he wouldn’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time.

As the second period started, the competition between Jack and Luke had nearly ceased to exist. You assumed they got their asses chewed in the locker room during the intermission, noting how their coach seemed to watch them like a hawk. Once the brothers started actually playing together instead of against one another, the Devil’s were scoring goals left and right, putting up four goals before the end of the second period, one Luke’s and two being Jack’s.

With only three minutes left in the second period, Luke was attempting to get possession of the puck from behind the net, fighting two of the opposing players for the black piece of rubber. He lost control of the puck, and in a moment of frustration, pushed one of the enemy players in the back, wanting out of the sandwich they had put him in. The player he pushed fell forward onto the ice, drawing a penalty on Luke. The official had blown the whistle, stopping gameplay, when Luke looked over at him, frustrated at the call.

What Luke didn’t see was the player who had gotten the puck come skating up behind him at full speed, pushing Luke so hard his skates came out from under him, causing him to land on the ice on his back. He was angled just enough, though, that his body slid at high speed straight into the bottom of the wall a few feet away, head bouncing off the boards along the ice.

You were on your feet immediately, hands flying to the glass in front of you, begging for him to get up. Quinn jumped to his feet next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, whether to comfort you or himself, you don’t know. Jack leaves his spot on the bench to skate over to his brother, falling to his knees on the ice, hovering above Luke.

Luke hadn’t moved yet. Not a foot twitch, a roll over in pain, or a thumbs up to let anyone know he’s okay. He’s laying lifeless on the ice, trainers calling his name, careful not to touch his head or neck. Your hand flies to cover your mouth, a sob making its way out of you when you noticed the stretcher being put on stand-by near the tunnel. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, time stopped as Luke continues to lay, unmoving. Quinn tries to move you back from the glass, averting your attention from the scene in front of you, but your eyes are glued to Luke’s body.

You thought you imagined the twitch of his foot, thinking it was where the medics were tapping his leg, trying to coax him awake. When you finally see his body try to roll over, you let out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Your relief was short-lived, however, when you hear the scream that makes its way out of Luke’s throat. You’re not sure which one hurt worse, him lying there not moving or the scream of agony that’s currently echoing through the arena.

Your knees start to give out, eyes blurring from the tears falling down your face. Quinn catches you as you slide down the glass, holding your sobbing figure in a crouched position.

“Quinn, gotta go. Gotta go, locker rooms,” you manage to say between sobs, trying to stand and make your way out of the stands.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go. Let’s get you out of here.”

The fans watch as Quinn guides you out of your seats and up the stairs. Most of them familiar with you, you and Luke not being super private with your relationship. A lot of them are still shouting obscenities at the player who went after Luke, demanding he be suspended. Some of them give you sad smiles as you pass, hoping your rookie is okay.

You finally reach the entrance to the training room, knowing this is where they’ll have taken him before they decide if he needs a hospital or not. You can hear them in there talking to him, unsure if you should enter yet or wait on someone to come out and get you. You stand at the doors, staring into space, when Quinn decides to speak up.

“He’s gonna be fine, Y/N. Probably a gnarly bruise, and likely a concussion, but it could’ve been worse. I know its scary, but I promise, he’s going to be okay. Might not even miss more than a game or two.”

All you can do is nod at the words, unable to do much else at the moment. You try to give a small smile, but you think it comes across as more of a grimace. You turn your head when you hear the door to the training room opens, revealing one of the team trainers.

“Oh, good, you’re already down here. He’s asking for you. Wants you to know he’s awake and okay. Nothing’s broken, just banged up and a mild concussion. Probably going to have him follow up with a doctor tomorrow, but for now he just needs rest. You can go ahead and go in. He won’t be playing the rest of the night,” the man in front of you finishes, stepping aside so you can walk through the open door.

You turn back to look at Quinn, seeing if he’s going to come with you.

“I’ll just give you two a minute first. Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he tells you, wanting a minute to process his own emotions before seeing his baby brother.

You nod and turn to walk into the training room, following the trainer down a short hallway before turning the corner into a room with three different treatment tables, Luke’s long body taking up the farthest one. His head is laying back on a pillow, a large ice pack taped to his right shoulder. His gear is laying in a pile on the floor next to him, completely bare from the waist up. As you get closer, you can see the already purple skin forming in the exposed parts of his shoulder and upper arm. You gasp quietly at the bruised skin, causing Luke’s head to snap up at the sound.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he rasps out, voice raw from his screams earlier.

You stop on the side of the bed opposite to his injury, unable to say anything yet. Tears still streaming down your face, looking him over for any other signs of injury.

“Hey, no need to cry, angel. I’m okay, see. Just a little bruise. Nothing to be worried about. You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke, being told he left a dent in the wall where he hit.

You glare at him through your tears, unhappy with his weak attempt at joke.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not the time to joke just yet,” he brings the hand on his good arm up to rub the back of his neck, looking away from your tear-stained face.

“You were unconscious, Luke…you weren’t moving,” is all you managed, staring at his injured shoulder.

“I know, baby, I know. But I’m awake now, see?” he gestures towards his body with his good arm. “I’m just fine. Yapping ability unaffected,” he once again tries to bring a smile to your face, this time it almost works.

“God, Luke, if you could’ve heard the scream you let out,” you shudder at the memory. “It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I thought my heart was going to rip in two right there on the spot. I don’t ever want to hear the sound again,” you finally look at his face, noting the small cut on his forehead, you assume from his helmet.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to witness all of it. I can’t imagine how it must’ve looked,” his tone apologetic. “If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to keep myself from trying to climb over the glass to get to you. But I promise, sweetheart, I’m fine. Told me as long as my head’s fine I should only have to miss two or three games to let the bruise run its course,” he grabs your hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“It was just so scary, Luke,” you sniffle, closing your eyes for a brief moment. You finally start to calm down now that his hand is in yours.

“I know. But now you get to play doctor and take care of me for a few days. Kiss all my boo boo’s better,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows at you, finally earning that laugh he’s been trying to get out of you since you walked in.

“That was probably one of the ickiest things you’ve ever said to me,” you laugh with Luke, fake gagging for dramatic effect.

Luke opens his mouth to say something else, but the the doors to the training room open, cutting him off. The familiar sound of skates against the floor making their way towards the two of you. Jack turns the corner, a frantic look in his eyes until he lands on Luke, awake and sitting up.

“I’m going to kill you for scaring me like that,” Jack points a finger, glaring at his younger brother. “I mean, why the fuck did you hit him, Luke! What were you thinking? You know how these guys are, they’re begging for any excuse to fight! They don’t care if you’re a 20 something rookie, they’re gonna hit back, dumbass!” Jack yells at Luke, throwing his arms around in frustration.

Luke winces at the volume of Jack’s voice, his ears sensitive to loud noises right now. Before you can get the words out to tell Jack to be quieter, Quinn enters the room and does it for you.

“Jack, be quiet for fuck’s sake. He has a concussion; you yelling at him is only going to make it worse. Yell at him later.”

“Well, it was stupid, Q. What he did was stupid,” Jack says in a normal tone of voice, still angry.  

“Don’t act like you’ve never done anything stupid on the ice before. Just because you never get caught when you hit people doesn’t mean you don’t do it,” Quinn walks over to stand beside Jack at the end of the table.

“You good, Moose? Looked pretty nasty out there from where I was sitting. Scared us, man,” Quinn asks Luke, tapping him on the foot. You note the redness of Quinn’s eyes, knowing how much he cares for both of his brothers. The whole situation shook him up, too, you were just too worried about Luke to notice at the time.

“Yeah, m’alright. Head hurts. Shoulder feels like it’s been run over by the ‘boni, but other than that I got off pretty clean. Nothing’s broken. Have to miss two games at least, more if my head ain’t right,” Luke answers Quinn, moving his hand so he can thread his fingers through yours.

“Your head’s never been right, Moose,” Jack says, causing Luke to roll his eyes.

Quinn leans over to bump his shoulder into Jack’s, shaking his head, unimpressed with his joke.

“Wait,” Luke starts, causing everyone to look up at him. “Are we just not going to address the fact that Quinn randomly showed up to the game tonight?”

“Yeah, how did you get here. Shouldn’t you be in Vancouver right now?” Jack adds, looking over at his older brother suspiciously.

Quinn looks over to you, causing the other two Hughes to shift their gaze your way.

“Surprise?” you say as a question, not knowing what to do with all the eyes in the room on you.

“You did this?” You look over at Luke, nearly eye level with him, even though he’s laying on the table beside you.

“Well, I know you’ve been struggling with adjusting to life here lately, and you were feeling pretty homesick, so I figured it would be nice for you to have both of your brothers in Jersey for a night or two,” you shrug your shoulders, not seeing the big deal with your actions.

“Tried to get your parents here, too, but they couldn’t leave work right now. They sent their love and apologies, though. Promised me they’d be at a game as soon as they could,” you added, wishing you could’ve had all the Hughes here tonight.

“I….I don’t know what to say,” Luke looks at you, so much affection in his eyes it makes you squirm.

“Well, a thank you would be a nice start,” you joke.

“Thank you. I love you. So much. If I could lean over to kiss you right now I would,” Luke brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of your hand clasped in his.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t make me witness anything else painful tonight,” Jack interrupts the moment, earning a slap to the back of the head from Quinn.

“Don’t you have a game to go finish, jackass?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Jack jumps, forgetting about the last period that’s about to start. “See you at home, Moose, Q. You, too, Y/N. Assume you’re staying over to help take care of the patient, yeah?” He nods his head towards the injured one in the room.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Be safe, Jack. Good luck,” you wave as he turns to leave.

“I’ll go pull the car around, be back in a few to help you get this ole’ goon out of here,” Quinn announces before leaving you and Luke alone once more.

“So, you’re really going to stay over? Play nurse for me?” Luke asks, looking at you with puppy dog eyes, batting his eyelashes.

“Of course I’m staying over. I can’t trust Jack to make sure you’re not up and around doing something stupid when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“So, if you’re going to play nurse, does this mean we can stop on the way home and get you one of those sexy nurse outfits?” Luke asks, eyes hopeful.

“Maybe they should’ve just left you out there unconscious on the ice, you were less annoying that way,” you fire back, smiling at the laugh Luke let out, thanking your lucky stars your boy is okay.

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 8)

pairing: kate bishop x fem! reader - masturbation

summary: you find it impossible to hide just how much kate affects you in a black suit

warnings: teasing, masturbation, reader getting caught

wordcount: 1.2k

an: what can i say? im a sucker for women in suits.

Kate glances up from her phone, waiting for the elevator, her fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek glass screen. She’s in a black suit, expertly tailored to fit every angle and line of her frame, with a crisp white shirt peeking out from beneath a black tie. The image of her standing there, focused and effortlessly powerful, hits you like a train. You blink, trying to process the pure presence she commands, looking every bit the CEO in charge of Bishop Security.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate’s voice is light, but there’s a glint in her eyes as she takes you in, noticing the way your gaze has frozen on her. She lets her mouth curl into a small, knowing smile, which only makes the effect more dangerous. “See something you like?”

You feel your face heat up, stumbling over your words as she saunters over, her confidence radiating from each precise step.

“You, uh… I didn’t realize you’d be… dressing up,” you manage, not quite able to find a safe spot for your eyes.

“Oh, this old thing?” she teases. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, watching with satisfaction as you fumble with your composure. “Just a little something to help seal the deal. I mean, the deal isn’t technically with you, but I’m glad to know I’ve got a captive audience.”

“Kate…” you stammer, “you look—”

“Unbelievably handsome?” she offers, arching an eyebrow, leaning close enough that her cologne, a smooth, warm scent, wraps around you. She studies you, letting the silence stretch just enough to make your heart race before she chuckles. “I know.”

The elevator dings behind her, and she spares it a glance but makes no move to leave, clearly savoring your flustered state. She leans in a little closer, her hand lifting to straighten her tie as she whispers, “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone. I promise I’ll be back to make it up to you.”

Before you can respond, she winks, letting her fingers trail lightly over your arm as she steps back. The elevator doors open, and she shoots you one last smirk as she steps inside.

You attempt to go back to the book you’d left on the coffee table, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh. This activity is usually calming, grounding—but today, every few sentences blur together, Kate's smirk slipping into the words, the memory of her suit and tie replacing any character in the story.

You try to shake it off, flipping a few more pages in a desperate attempt to focus. But your mind keeps drifting back to Kate in that damn suit, the way her confidence and charm seemed to make every line of fabric a little sharper, more intoxicating. The image of her adjusting her tie lingers vividly, and you can practically feel the warmth of her gaze from earlier, the smirk she had when she’d noticed your reaction.

Sighing, you close the book and set it aside. There’s no use pretending. She’s left you with an ache... a huge one that keeps bringing her back into your thoughts. You could practically feel her presence here with you, like the faint hint of her cologne still in the air, lingering just to remind you of what you’re missing.

You can still hear her words, every casual “See something you like?” and “Try not to miss me too much.” A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the glint in her eyes, how she seemed to take absolute pleasure in watching you unravel.

With another sigh, you reach for your phone, typing out a quick message.

You left a mess of my concentration, Bishop.

The text sends, and for a few minutes, you wonder if she’s too caught up in business to respond. But then your phone vibrates, and her reply lights up the screen.

Good. That’s exactly where I want to be, right in the middle of your thoughts.

Your heart skips, and there’s no mistaking the smirk that spreads across your face as you read it, a perfect echo of hers from earlier.

Be good, I´ll be home soon. xx

Your phone buzzes once again as Kate adds to her message. There’s a gentle rush of heat creeping up your cheeks, a fuzzy warmth pooling between your thighs. Be good. The words echo, soft and teasing, and you find yourself replaying them over and over.

It’s ridiculous, really, how much effect one message has on you. But that’s Kate - she’s somehow wrapped herself around your every thought without even trying. Now, every tick of the clock feels heavier, reminding you of how much you’re waiting for her to come back, and how much you want to be under her right now.

You lie back, letting your hands go just where you need them the most. Hoping she will be back soon, but you can´t wait, she made you this desperate... so if anything, it´s her fault.

As your fingers dips into your wet core, you chuckle a bit. If Kate was here, she would be making fun of you, because as always, you´re just so easy to turn on.

Your clit is already swollen and you just need more.

Did a few words on your phone and a suit made you this wet?

You can hear Kate´s voice in your head, which makes you go even crazier. You really need her to come as soon as possible, another thing you have in common. Oh how she looked in that god damn suit, fitting just perfectly on her. And then there were her hands, strong, veined, and dotted with a few silver rings that makes you go wild. Those hands... you need her hands. Yours are not enough.

Fuck.

Playing with your clit feels like you are not touching yourself at all. Why does her touch feels so amazing, but yours doesn´t? You push three fingers inside of yourself, bucking up your hips to cross your finish line. Desperate. Another words you can hear clearly in your head.

Yes, you are desperate. For her. All the time. But can anyone blame you?

Just as you sink into the intensity of the moment, you hear a low, unmistakable throat clearing. Your heart stutters, and there she is, leaning in the doorway with her signature smirk, her hands casually tucked in her pockets, and a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Well, well," she drawls, her gaze taking you in shamelessly, "I should have business meetings more often if this is the sight I'm gonna come home to every time." Her eyes darken, a teasing edge to her smirk as she steps closer.

“I- I…uh, sorry. I just…you just looked very… good. And um... I couldn´t really help myself.” Your voice falters, face flushed as her grin only grows wider.

"Thank you, darling," she murmurs, her tone low and smooth, "but don’t let me interrupt. Go on…” Her gaze drops over you, clearly enjoying every bit of the effect she’s having. “Seems like you were in the middle of something important."

The playful lift in her brow and the way her lips quirk in that smug grin make it impossible to tear your gaze away. You know she’s loving this, savoring every second of your flustered expression. And she’s not going to let you off easy... not now, not with the way she’s eyeing you like you’re a piece of meat she’s ready to get her hands on.

Thank you for reading once again!:P

[requiemforthepoets]

first encounter ⟢ CL16

⟢ part two of you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part three ☽

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: all thanks to leo, charles finally got the chance to meet you—the celestial being who has consumed his every waking thoughts, and managed to find out new things.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little bit of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.

WORD COUNT: 5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. sorry it took me a LONG time to post the part 2 of this series, i already have this on my drafts but never got the time to check on it bc i’ve been working on my other series (fa14 series), but finally, here it is! the part 3 may take a long time to be posted again 🥲 but you don’t have to worry bc i intend on finishing this series. taglist is open for this series, so just comment or message me if you want to be tagged. your comment/reblog is highly appreciated, and i hope you’ll enjoy this second part of the series!

It was a warm late afternoon in Monaco, and Charles had finally pulled himself out of his apartment, hoping that some fresh air and Leo’s cheerful company might turn off the constant thoughts running through his mind. Since that night in Singapore, you had been all Charles could think about—the image of you standing before him, looking at him as though you knew the secrets he hadn’t even dared to ask himself. Charles had barely gotten a word in before you disappeared, leaving him with nothing but more questions.

The park was mostly empty, allowing him and Leo to stroll without the usual flood of cameras or people hoping to get a quick word with him. Charles enjoyed these rare quiet moments, watching Leo run through the grass, capturing photos of him mid-leap, his ears flapping, and his tail wagging in pure delight. For a while, it was peaceful—that is until Leo began barking persistently, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

“Leo, calme-toi.” Charles called, trying to soothe his normally docile dachshund.

Leo rarely barked at nothing, and Charles couldn’t see what had him all stirred up. As he looked past Leo, his heart skipped. There you were, standing at the edge of the park, just as he had remembered you, dressed in black, untouched by the brightness of the world around you, as if you had stepped from a different realm entirely. Slowly, Charles walked over, kneeling beside Leo, who was still barking.

“Can you see her too, buddy?” Charles asked softly, but Leo only turned his head back towards you.

His barks began shifting into a delighted whine, tail wagging as though greeting an old friend. To Charles’ amazement, Leo took off towards you, bounding across the grass with uncharacteristic excitement. You bent down on one knee as Leo reached you, his small body pressing happily against your touch. Charles just stood there and watched, captivated by the whole sight, how your hand moved over Leo’s fur, and how the dog responded, oblivious to the fact that what he felt was something beyond the ordinary. You then looked up at Charles and smiled, a gentle, knowing expression on your face.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured to Leo, reaching out to stroke him. Your gaze followed Leo’s figure as he trotted back toward Charles. “He’s a beautiful soul. It’s clear how well you take good care of him, he is very happy with this life.”

Charles swallowed, taken aback by the warmth of your words. He felt a huge wave of relief washing over him, and somehow, you were not a figment of his imagination. You were in front of him, speaking to him, your voice soft but firm, grounding him in the reality of your presence.

Noticing a bench nearby, you gestured, “shall we sit?” Charles nodded.

He followed you as you walked, though he kept glancing around as if worried that someone might catch him talking to thin air. The two of you sat side by side, your gaze focused on Leo as he scampered around, while Charles couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at you. The silence between you felt almost sacred, deafening, thick with all the unspoken questions he longed to ask.

“I know you have many questions,” finally, you broke the silence. Your voice was gentle. “Especially as to why you can see me, when others could not.”

Charles let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I—I don’t understand. I’ve seen you before, but you keep on disappearing, and no one else…they never see you.” his voice was a soft murmur, filled with confusion and wonder.

“Our kind, like myself, we’re not meant to be seen by human eyes. We’re here to watch and guide, but only from afar. Most humans only sense us as a passing feeling, a presence.” you softly said, as you studied him with a faint smile. “But in your case, you see me. Truly see me.”

“Why, though? Why am I able to see you?” Charles’ brows furrowed, his gaze intent on yours.

You turned to look at Leo, who was now sitting a short distance away, watching the two of you with a curious tilt of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Leo.

“It’s rare, Charles. But sometimes, there is a connection between our kind to your kind that goes beyond the veil. I’ve thought about it myself, and though I don’t have all the answers, it’s clear that there’s a reason you and I keep crossing paths.”

Charles’ heart raced. The way you spoke, as though fate had woven an invisible thread between you had left him reeling. He glanced around the park, reminded of how strange this conversation must look to anyone passing by, but he did not care at all. The need to understand, to know you, outweighed any risk of prying eyes.

“Maybe…maybe we should go somewhere less public?” Charles suggested, his voice low.

He did not want this moment to end, he couldn’t let you disappear on him again before he had the chance to understand this kind of connection. You looked at him for a long contemplative moment, then nodded.

“All right, lead the way.”

Charles led you quietly through the streets of Monaco and up to his apartment. He hadn’t said much on the way, clearly lost in thought, yet there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. When you entered his apartment, you immediately noticed how it held an essence of him. Warm, understated, and filled with memories. The walls were decorated with framed photographs spanning his life from childhood karting days to podium celebrations in F1. Trophies were all lined up on the shelf, and each piece seemed to carry a story of its own.

You were drawn to the photos, especially those capturing his relationships, the warm smiles he shared with his family, playful moments with his friends, and candid shots of him and his brothers. Then your gaze settled on one particular photograph, and a bittersweet feeling bloomed within you. It was a younger version of Charles, perhaps in his teens, standing alongside a man whose face you recognize. Jules Bianchi.

Charles noticed the direction of your attention as he finished filling up Leo’s dog bowl, and he stepped over to join you, his expression softening as he saw the photograph. Jules had been so much more than just a mentor to him. The man in that photo had shaped parts of his soul and his dreams. You could feel the weight of Charles’ emotions lingering in the air, a tender ache mixed with recognition.

“You knew him?” Charles’ voice was quiet as he stood beside you.

You nodded softly, your own voice taking on a gentle tone. “I was there in his final moments. I was the one who guided him when he was ready to go, helping him crossover.”

Charles’ face was a mix of expression, caught between surprise and disbelief. For a second, he seemed unable to respond, the information settling slowly. You watched him intently as he took a deep breath, grounding himself.

“You…you spoke to him?” he managed, his voice strained with a mix of sorrow and longing.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady but tender. “I spoke with his soul as he lingered between here and the afterlife. It was…peaceful. He was calm when I arrived, almost as if he knew he was not going to stay.”

You paused, “I then asked him about his life, what his favorite thing about life was.”

”He told me that his family meant everything to him. He then mentioned being a godfather, and his dreams for his protégé, a young man named Charles.” you added.

“He said that?” he whispered, breath hitched as he instinctively reached up to touch the frame, his fingers resting just over the image of Jules’ face.

“He spoke of you with such pride, with hope that you would go on to achieve everything he had dreamed for you. Jules saw himself in you, Charles. His last thoughts were with his family and you.” you looked at him softly. A quiet rage simmered in Charles’ eyes as he turned to look at you, his voice tinged with frustration.

“But why? Why couldn’t you let his family speak to him, too? They waited for so long, hoping he’d wake up, to say goodbye properly.” the raw pain and anger in his voice were unmistakable.

Charles had not meant to question your intentions, but the loss of Jules had carved a wound that had never fully healed, and in his grief, he momentarily forgot you were not human. You looked at him with a soft, understanding smile, letting the weight of his sorrow wash over you. You had witnessed this kind of reaction before, how those who are grief-stricken often felt deprived of closure.

“I understand, Charles. If I could have done differently, I would have,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “But it wasn’t his body I spoke to, it was his soul. Jules was already watching from the other side, beyond the reach of the physical world. In those moments, he wasn’t in his body anymore, he was seeing all of you from a place where time no longer held sway.”

Charles looked down, processing your words, the anger fading slowly as he tried to keep his emotions steady. He tried to reconcile his emotions with the reality of what you had just shared. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze fixed on the floor as he took in a shaky breath.

“So he…he was watching us all along?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you assured him. “He was with you. Every tear, every moment spent beside his hospital bed, he saw it all, even if he himself couldn’t respond in a way you wished for it to be.”

“Souls don’t always leave the way we want them to. They transition gently, often lingering just to be close to the people they love.” you added. Charles’ shoulder slumped slightly, and he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as if finally accepting what had once seemed unimaginable.

“It…it makes sense,” he murmured. “Jules was always calm, even in the most difficult moments. Maybe he knew it would be easier this way.”

There was a peaceful silence that settled between the both of you, the only sound being Leo’s soft footsteps as he padded over to sit by Charles’ feet. Charles looked at you again, the sorrow in his eyes tinted by a glimmer of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, a sincerity in his words that touched you deeply. “For…for being there with him, and for telling me.”

You gave him a reassuring nod, feeling the depth of his appreciation. “He is proud of you, Charles. More than you know. You are honoring his legacy every time you step onto the track.”

Charles closed his eyes briefly, absorbing your words, a new sense of peace settling over him. He knew that the ache would remain, but perhaps now, with you there to share this part of Jules’ journey, it would be a little easier to carry.

Eventually, you found yourself seated on the barstool, observing how Charles moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients as he prepared a dish called pasta, and noting the way he moved with a quiet confidence. He seemed at ease, but you could tell by the occasional glance he cast your way that he was still processing everything. The strange connection he had with you, a Celestial he could see but others could not. As he stirred the sauce on the stove, he broke the silence, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“So…what exactly are you?” Charles asked, attempting to sound casual, though his curiosity was clear. “Are you like an angel of death or something?” his brows furrowed slightly as he added.

“No, Charles. I’m not here to take you away,” you assured him, tone gentle, and couldn’t help but smile at his suspicion. “Think of me as a guide and a protector. My duty is to help souls cross the afterlife, to make sure that they are not alone and lonely when they cross the other side.”

“So, you’re…you’re not here for me?” he asked, his voice tentative. You could see the worry in his eyes, as if he had been half afraid that he might be speaking with the very spirit that would one day guide him out of this life.

“Not at all,” you replied. “I’m here because, somehow, we have this connection. I was there in the hospital room, with your father, when you saw me for the first time. It was a natural part of my duty, I was waiting to guide him. Just as I was there for Jules.”

“So you only appear when…someone’s close to death?” Charles’ gaze dropped to the countertop, and he nodded slowly, as if piercing it all together.

“Typically, yes,” you replied. “Humans are not meant to see me. They may sense it, a presence, calmness, or even a cool warmth when I’m near, but that’s usually all. So, I could not quite understand why you could see me. It isn’t common.”

“But I can see you.” he said, almost to himself, as if still trying to grasp this phenomenon.

“Exactly.” you looked at him thoughtfully. “Over time, as I have watched over you, you’ve somehow become aware of me. It’s as if the bond between us allowed you to see me when others can’t.”

You let the words hang, hoping it answered the mystery that had puzzled him for so long. Charles turned back to the stove, his movements slower, as if he were allowing himself time to absorb what you had just said. After a moment, he turned to look at you again.

“Back in Singapore…I kept thinking of you, wondering if you were real or just in my head.” he hesitated, then continued. “And you appeared, it was like you sensed me or something.”

“That’s precisely what happened,” a gentle smile crossed your face as you saw the gears turning inside his head. “I could feel your thoughts, your longing to see me, and so I came to you. Your thoughts, they called to me.”

“But why do you always disappear?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “Every time I think I already have you here, you’re gone the second I look away.”

“It’s not by choice, Charles.” you met his gaze, understanding his frustration. “My presence here beside you is not permanent. I have duties beyond just watching over you, it is my duty to guide other people as well. My duty is to help those souls cross peacefully into the afterlife, which means I’m often called away. That’s why I can’t always be here, even if you want me to be.”

“I understand,” he said softly as he looked down, absorbing your words. “It’s…strange, but it does make sense.”

A comfortable silence fell between you and Charles as he took out a plate and transferred the pasta dish on it. You could still feel the wheels turning in his mind as he processed everything. After a moment, you spoke again.

“If you want me to be with you, well, there is a way.” you said.

He looked up at you, now intrigued. “A way?”

You nodded. “Yes. If you light a match or a lighter and call for me, then blow it out, I’ll hear it, and I’ll come to you.”

“Why a match?” Charles’ brows furrowed as he considered it.

“Fire.” you explained. “It is a symbol of transition. It’s an ancient element that is used to connect realms, to call forth spirits, and to bridge the distance between worlds. When you light a match or a lighter, you are creating a momentary flame that connects you to my realm, and when you blow the fire out, it becomes a message—a summons. I’ll hear it, wherever I am.”

“So, I just…call out to you, light a flame, and you’ll come?” Charles’ lips curved into a small smile.

“Yes.” you returned his smile, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “As long as you need me, Charles. Wherever you are, I’ll always find a way to be there.”

Charles looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something deeper, a newfound comfort that seemed to settle over him. In that quiet moment, Charles reached for his fork, but his gaze lingered on you, a newfound clarity softening his features.

“Thank you.” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He then placed a plate of pasta right in front of you, and you tilted your head, looking at the dish with sheer curiosity and slight confusion. Charles noticed your expression, stopping mid-motion as he raised his own fork.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but genuinely concerned.

“I don’t…eat,” you explained softly, gaze flickering between him and the plate, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Celestials don’t have the need for food, so I don’t know what it’s like to taste something, let alone pasta.” you could see a flicker of surprise and something that almost looked like offense pass over his face.

“What? You’ve never tasted pasta?” he asked, shocked, as he looked down at his beloved dish, looking genuinely horrified. “Pasta is…it’s comforting, it’s warmth and tradition. It’s something everyone has to try.”

“Okay, imagine this—it’s soft and a little chewy, warm and…kind of like a hug, but for your mouth.” he added, grinning at you with his eyes lighting up. “And with this tomato sauce, its got this balance of sweet and tangy, a bit salty too, it just…makes everything feel better.” his expression softened.

You watched Charles as he spoke, entranced and touched by his earnest attempt to describe something so familiar to him yet so foreign to you. Spending this time with him, watching his animated expression, hearing his heartfelt explanations, you begin to understand why his father and Jules had spoken of him so warmly in their final moments. Charles was not only passionate, but genuinely kind and unpretentiously funny. There was a gentleness to him that touched your heart, even if it couldn’t beat the way a human’s did.

Hours slipped by so fast, and you both found yourselves seated on his living room couch, talking quietly, the evening light fading around you. Charles asked questions after questions, fascinated by your world and by what you do. You answered each one as best as you could, and with each answer, his awe seemed to deepen. You shared stories of guiding other souls, moments of peace and love you had witnessed. He listened, hanging onto each word, and you could see a newfound calmness in his eyes.

While you were in the middle of telling him a story about guiding an elderly woman who had waited until all her children were by her side before letting go, you heard a soft sound. Glancing to your right, you found Charles with his head tipped back against the couch cushion, his breathing steady and calm. He had drifted off, exhaustion settling over him like a soft blanket. For a moment, you just watched him, studying his peaceful face. Charles’ long lashes rested against his cheeks, and a gentle warmth seemed to radiate from him, a stark contrast to the chill you carried with you.

A quiet yearning tugged at you as you lifted a hand, your fingers hovering near his face. You wanted, just once, to feel the warmth of human skin, to know what it was like to truly touch, but you know better. If you let your fingers graze him, he would only feel a cold wisp of air, a reminder that you didn’t belong to this world in the same way as Charles did. So, reluctantly, you lowered your hand and simply looked at him, memorizing the moment.

You had spent nearly the entire day with Charles, and though part of you longed to stay, you knew it was time to leave. Quietly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to where Leo was resting nearby. You knelt down beside the little dachshund, who lifted his head to watch you with those soulful eyes, tail giving a soft wag, and you reached out, your fingers ghosting over his fur.

“Leo, I know that your past life was not kind to you and had been cut short, but you’re safe now. In this life, you’re well taken care of and so loved.” you spoke softly, as Leo seemed to tilt his head, like he understood every word you say. “Charles is a good man, he will love and take care of you, always.”

As you straightened up, Leo continued to watch you, his eyes filled with a sense of understanding. You turned to take one last look at Charles, still asleep on the couch, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. A soft smile crept over your face as you watched him, there was a wave of warmth washing over you, even without a heartbeat to drive it.

With a final, quiet glance at Leo, who looked back at you with trusting eyes, you let yourself disappear, and slipped back into the unseen world that had always separated you from the people you guided. Yet, for a short moment, you knew you had left a part of yourself with Charles and Leo in that Monaco apartment.

Charles woke up with a dull ache running through his neck, reminding him of the night he had spent sleeping on the couch. He rubbed the sore spot, groaning slightly as he tried to stretch out the stiffness. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, until the memories of last night’s memory surfaced. The conversation, quiet moments, and then the emptiness when he realized you had left. He sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as a sense of longing settled over him, a quiet ache that wasn’t so easily stretched away.

A small bark drew his attention to Leo, who was sitting nearby, watching him with an endearing tilt of his head, and noticing Charles’ contemplative state. He smiled and reached out, calling Leo over.

“What do you think, Leo? It was one strange night, huh?” Leo padded over gently, wagging his tail as Charles scooped him up, holding him close.

For a few minutes, Charles simply enjoyed and basked in the warmth of Leo in his arms, the familiar comfort that Leo offered in the midst of all the strange, unexplainable things that he was feeling. Last night had been a fever dream for him, but he knew that it was real, that it happened.

“Do you think it’s strange? Wanting to see her again?” he added. Leo just responded with a quiet, comforting look and nestled close to Charles.

After a while, curiosity began to gnaw at him. Charles could not shake the desire to know more about you, as to why he felt this pull, this connection that seemed impossible and yet so real. He padded into his bedroom, grabbed his laptop and settled in, typing Celestial Angels into the search bar. Countless articles, myths, and even fiction flooded his screen. Charles sifted through several pages, skipping over anything that seemed overly romanticized or far-fetched, until one article caught his eye.

The article spoke of Celestial Angels who formed deep bonds with their humans, describing how they acted as protectors, watchers, and guides. It mentioned the rare connection that could occur, a phenomenon where an angel might become so deeply intertwined with a human soul that they developed a sense of longing or even love, something that was both a blessing and a curse for the Celestial. As he read further, Charles could not help but wonder if this was what he had experienced, if this was the reason he kept seeing you, why he felt such a pull toward you.

Charles then stumbled upon a book: The Celestials by an author named Celestine Williams. The cover featured a faint, ethereal image of a figure wrapped in light, the silhouette barely discernible, much like he imagined you, and the description noted that it explored the stories and folklore surrounding Celestials and their interactions with humans, a deep dive book. The reviews were glowing, a few feedbacks talking about how the book shed light on the mysteries of these beings and the unique connections they could form. Without a second thought, Charles clicked buy, hoping the book would give him a glimpse into your world, something that might help him understand you much better.

Charles then returned his attention back to the article. But his focus kept drifting, thoughts of you had surfaced in his mind unbidden, wondering where you were right now, what you might be doing, if you were watching over someone else or wandering through some hidden place unknown to humans. The pull to see you, to call you, was growing stronger by the second, becoming a quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.

He set the laptop aside, exhaling as he mulled over the idea. Charles remembered what you had told him when he needed you—that he could call you by lighting a match or a lighter, a summon that would draw you to him. He doesn't know if it would even work, or if you would even come, but the need to see you was already overriding any doubts that he has. So he then grabbed a small lighter that he kept somewhere hidden in his kitchen and went to his living room, sitting down on the couch with Leo curled up beside him.

Charles knew it was kind of absurd, like it was something straight out of a fairy tale of a late-night ghost story, but last night, you had told him that if he wanted to see you, all he had to do was light a flame and call out to you. A part of him, the rational side, wanted to shrug it off as nonsense. But then the other part of him had witnessed things that were impossible and felt that strange connection to you, urging him to at least give it a try.

“Am I really fucking doing this?” he murmured, looking down at Leo for approval. But Leo just looked at him, with a face that said ‘what’s the harm in trying?’ “Ah, fuck it.”

Finally, with a deep breath, he flicked the lighter on, watching the tiny flame flame dance as he whispered out to you, a barely audible plea for you to return. The flame flickered as he called out to you, then he blew it out gently, his eyes lingering on the wisp of smoke that rose and faded. His heart was pounding, unsure if should expect an immediate response or if he had simply made a wish to the empty air.

A hush settled over the quiet living room, and for a moment, nothing really happened. Charles felt a pang of disappointment, even a touch of embarrassment at how eager he was and had hoped. He let out a disheartening chuckle, letting out a quiet sight right after, and lowering the lighter, thinking that maybe he had been mistaken or that the depth of the bond he felt was just his pure imagination.

Just as he stood up, about to return the lighter back into the kitchen, Charles felt a shift in the air, a delicate, almost undetectable shimmer, like a faint breeze brushing across his skin. He looked up, and there you were, standing in the soft morning light, an almost imperceptible glow framing your presence. The world seemed to pause, the weight of the day fading away as he took in the sight of you. You stood there, a soft, otherworldly light around you, the faintest hint of warmth in your eyes as you looked at him. Charles felt his breath hitching, he had not realized how much he missed seeing you until now. He began feeling a strange mix of relief and happiness.

“You called for me?” you asked softly, your voice like a distant melody.

Charles nodded, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed, but unable to look away at you. “I…I did, I hope it’s okay. I just…” he paused, fumbling over his words. “I wanted to see if it works, and to see you again. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re allowed to call for me, Charles. That’s why I told you how you can reach for me.” you smiled gently, a warmth in your expression that seemed to reach him despite your distance.

“I’ve been reading about Celestial Angels, trying to understand.” he let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands inside of his pockets, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I came across all these stories about angels who…form connections with their humans.” Charles looked down, collecting his thoughts.

“I guess I just wanted to understand what we have. Why do you keep on appearing, and why does it feel like I know you, even though I don’t really.” he added.

“The connection between an angel and their human isn’t something that happens every day. It’s rare, something beyond explanation.” your expression softened, and took a slow step forward, closing the gap between you. “We’re not supposed to form attachments, but sometimes, it’s as if the universe allows it, just for a moment.”

“So…it’s real, then? I’m not imagining it at all?” his gaze never leaving you, but filled with curiosity.

“No, Charles,” you shook your head. “You’re not imagining it. It’s real. You were always different, even from the first time I saw you.”

“I don’t know what this all means, but I want to understand.” he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, voice quiet, and a raw honesty was lacing his tone as he held your gaze.

“Sometimes, understanding isn’t possible, not in a way humans desire. Some things simply are.” you said quietly.

You then placed a hand near his, close enough that Charles could almost feel your presence, but not quite touching. The silence stretched, rich and weighty, filled with words left unsaid. Finally, he managed a faint smile.

“Thank you. For you know, for coming.” Charles said softly.

“For you, I always will.” you replied, smiling at him.

taglist : @charlesgirl16 , @chloes-book-corner , @wierdflowerpower

[brunchable]

"Come Back To Me" || Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F!reader. Themes: ANGST. ANGST. The one that got away. Summary: He’d been struggling for so long—struggling to find a way to piece himself back together. He’d told her once, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that every day felt like walking through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything he was trying to build could explode, destroying whatever progress he’d made. A/N: I'm feeling a bit. . .emotional today. . .if this goes well, i'll make a happy ending. . .

The rain was relentless against the windowpane, blurring the view of the city outside. Y/N watched as the drops streaked down, tracing random patterns, much like the course of her life over the past few years. A packed suitcase sat by the door, and an eerie silence filled her apartment. The city she once called home now seemed foreign, unwelcoming. And she was finally leaving it all behind.

She picked up her phone, glancing at the unread messages. Her thumb hovered over one of them—Bucky Barnes. She hadn’t spoken to him in almost a year. A part of her wondered if she should’ve reached out, but then, what would have been the point? She was getting married. Moving on. Or at least trying to.

Just as she was about to put the phone down, it buzzed—another message. This time from him.

“Where are you?”

She stared at the screen, her heart tightening painfully in her chest. She knew she shouldn’t respond, but her fingers moved on their own accord.

“Leaving.”

Seconds passed before his response came through.

“Don’t go.”

Tears blurred her vision. She forced herself to breathe, to remind herself that she had made this choice a long time ago. But the memories clawed at her, dragging her back.

× × × × 

Two Years Ago

The room felt warmer that night, filled with a calm that rarely visited Bucky’s place. Y/N could still recall the way his heartbeat echoed in her ear, strong and steady beneath her cheek as she rested against his chest. It was one of those rare moments when he seemed at peace—when the walls he kept so carefully constructed around himself had lowered just enough for her to see a glimpse of the man he was underneath the scars.

She’d stayed over countless times before, but this felt different. There was no rush, no urgency or desperation to cling to each other like they’d had so many nights before. Just a quiet acceptance that, for now, in this sliver of borrowed time, they could pretend everything was okay. He’d wrapped his arms around her that night, pulled her close like he never wanted to let go.

“Do you think we’ll ever be normal?” she had whispered, more to herself than to him.

There was a pause, his fingers running through her hair, then trailing down her back as if grounding himself. He’d never been one for words. Never had to be. But that night, something had been different in the way he touched her, held her—like he knew he was about to break both their hearts.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that she felt more than heard.

She looked up at him then, her eyes searching his face. His gaze was fixed somewhere far away, staring past her, as if he could see something she couldn’t. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Eyes that had seen too much, carried too much. They were distant, resigned.

“Then why does it feel like you’re slipping away?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Bucky had closed his eyes, his hold tightening. She didn’t know if it was because he was trying to hold onto her or if he was bracing himself to let her go.

They’d been here before—wrapped in each other, their skin touching, their breaths mingling, but the space between them felt like an insurmountable distance. He was always just a little out of reach, a little too far from where she needed him to be. Y/N had spent the better part of their relationship trying to close that gap, trying to be enough to pull him from the darkness he was drowning in.

But love wasn’t enough to save someone who was still learning how to love themselves.

He’d been struggling for so long—struggling to find a way to piece himself back together. He’d told her once, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that every day felt like walking through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything he was trying to build could explode, destroying whatever progress he’d made.

She knew he was dealing with more than she could understand. That his past was a heavy chain around his neck, dragging him down every time he tried to rise. 

Y/N had her life planned out—knew where she was headed, what she wanted. She’d had a future mapped out long before she met Bucky Barnes. But somehow, he had become part of that future, even though he was still figuring out how to fit into his own.

They had tried to make it work. God, they had tried. But the timing was always off. Every time she reached for him, he took a step back. Every time he looked ready to stay, something would pull him away. It was an endless push and pull, a dance neither of them could master.

So, that night, she hadn’t pushed him. She hadn’t pressed for promises or reassurances. She’d just held him, clung to the moments they had together, hoping—praying—that he would see that what they had was worth staying for.

In hindsight, she should have known something was off. Should have felt it in the way his grip tightened just a little too much, in the way he pressed his lips to her hair as if he were trying to commit every detail of her to memory.

But she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known that while she was drifting off to sleep, secure in the thought that they’d get to wake up like this again and again, Bucky was silently saying goodbye.

When morning came, the first thing she registered was the absence of his warmth. The sheets beside her were cool to the touch, and a strange sense of unease crept through her as she opened her eyes to an empty space.

“Bucky?”

Silence greeted her in return. The apartment felt colder now, the lingering traces of their night together evaporating into the early dawn light. She pushed herself up, glancing around the small living room they’d spent hours in, talking about everything and nothing.

His shoes were gone. The jacket he always left draped over the armchair—vanished. It was as if he’d erased every trace of himself from the room, leaving it as bare as it had been the first time she’d stepped through the door.

A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she stood and moved through the small space, half-expecting to find him in the kitchen making coffee or standing by the window like he often did when he couldn’t sleep. But each room she entered was the same—silent, empty, devoid of him.

Her eyes landed on the coffee table, and she froze. There, in the center, sat a single folded piece of paper.

No. No, no, no.

She walked over slowly, almost afraid to touch it. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the note, the familiar scrawl of his handwriting sending a fresh wave of pain through her chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Two words. That’s all he’d left her with.

A sob built in her throat, but she forced it down, shaking her head as if she could deny the reality in front of her. He was gone. He’d left in the middle of the night without a word, without an explanation. Just a hastily scribbled apology, like that could somehow justify tearing her apart and leaving her to pick up the pieces alone.

She sank onto the couch, the letter crumpling slightly in her grip. All the promises they’d made—the moments they’d shared—it was all unraveling around her like a cruel joke. She had believed in him, in the person he could be, the person he was when he was with her. And yet, he’d left.

Just like she always feared he would.

But no matter how much she had braced herself for this day, it didn’t make it any less excruciating. Because she’d been foolish enough to think that maybe—just maybe—love could be enough. That she could be enough.

She could still remember the way he looked at her the night before, those blue eyes filled with unshed tears, glassy and pleading. He’d looked like a man caught between two worlds—one where he wanted to stay and one where he had to leave.

“I just can’t,” he had said softly, voice cracking under the weight of it all, “I can’t keep pretending like I can give you everything you want. I’m still trying to figure out who I am—what I am. And you—you have your life together. You have a future. I’m just holding you back.”

And with those words, everything had shattered.

Love alone had never been enough to keep him from running.

× × × ×

Bucky sprinted through the terminal, breathless.

People moved aside, startled by his urgency, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting to her—seeing her. The thought of her boarding that plane, slipping through his fingers forever, was like a vise around his chest. He pushed past families and travelers, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically. It felt like every step he took was a battle against time, a race he was destined to lose.

He hadn’t meant to come here. Hadn’t meant to break the silence he’d imposed on himself when he’d walked away from her all those months ago. But when he’d heard she was leaving, something inside him snapped. The reality of losing her—really losing her—had hit him like a freight train.

He spotted her near the gate. Y/N stood with her back to him, her shoulders squared, the familiar tilt of her head making his heart twist painfully. She was right there. He could see her. He could—

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos of the terminal.

She turned slowly, and their eyes met.

For a moment, the world stilled. The noise of the airport faded into a distant hum, and all that existed was her—standing there, looking at him with an expression that tore him apart. There was surprise in her eyes, yes. But there was also pain. A deep, aching sadness that mirrored his own. He took a step forward, his throat tight, but the distance between them felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Y/N,” he repeated, softer now, his voice breaking.

She shook her head, lips trembling as she blinked back tears. He could see the resolve in her eyes, the determination. But there was something else there, too. Fragile and broken, something he knew he had put there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but the words felt hollow. Inadequate. He wasn’t just sorry—he was devastated. Ruined. He’d spent the last year running, trying to convince himself that letting her go was the right thing. That she deserved better than him. That he was sparing her the pain of loving someone who was still trying to piece himself back together.

But he hadn’t spared her anything. He’d just left her to suffer alone.

She looked at him, really looked at him, as if memorizing his face one last time. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t move toward him. Didn’t close the gap. She just stood there, staring at him like he was a stranger.

And then she smiled. A small, heartbreaking smile that nearly brought him to his knees.

“I know,” she mouthed, and he saw the acceptance in her gaze. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t going to scream or cry or demand answers. She was simply… done.

Panic surged in his chest. He took a step forward, then another, but she turned away. His heart plummeted as she handed over her ticket to the gate attendant, her shoulders squared as if bracing herself for what was to come.

“Y/N, wait!” He surged forward, desperation clawing at him. He tried to push past security, tried to reach her, but an attendant stepped in front of him.

“Sir, you can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. He could feel his heart breaking, could feel everything slipping away from him. “Please, I need to talk to her.”

But the attendant shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s too late.”

Bucky stumbled back, his legs weak as if they could barely hold him up. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, battered notebook—the one he’d kept hidden all this time. The one he’d filled with the words he could never say to her.

He flipped through the pages with trembling hands, each letter a reminder of his cowardice, of the things he should have told her when it mattered. 

But as he reached the last page, his heart stuttered in his chest. His breath caught, and the world seemed to tilt as he stared at the words scrawled there in unfamiliar, yet achingly familiar handwriting.

It wasn’t his.

The ink was slightly smudged, as if someone had been gripping the page too tightly, but it was still clear. Still legible.

“Come back to me.”

His hands shook violently, a wave of emotion crashing over him as he traced the letters, his fingers brushing over the paper as if he could somehow reach her through it.

These weren’t his words. He hadn’t written this.

She had.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a pained noise escaping his throat. When had she seen this? How long had she known? He tried to piece it together, but everything felt jumbled, his thoughts spiraling out of control. He remembered all the way back to the times she’d looked at him, hurt and longing and so damn patient as she waited for him to say something—to do something that would prove he wasn’t going to leave again.

But he hadn’t. He’d let his fear win. Let his insecurities drive a wedge between them until there was nothing left but goodbyes.

“Come back to me.”

The words seemed to mock him now, a plea she must have written when she still believed he could change. When she still hoped he’d stay.

But he hadn’t found it. Hadn’t known what she’d been asking of him. And now it was too late.

The gate remained closed, and the plane carrying the only person who had ever truly seen him began to taxi away, taking her further and further out of his reach.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, the words breaking apart in his throat, filled with a desperation that echoed through the hollow spaces inside him.

But she wasn’t coming back.

[repulsiveliquidation]

without you || Ona Batlle

warnings : angst w/ happy ending, i promise. mentions of illness and death. based on the poem above. enjoy :)

last night you were in my dreams

looked me in the eye

god

it felt so real

her side of the bed’s empty. there’s no note left for you in her pretty writing. her car is gone from its place next to yours in the driveway. her pillow smells so much like her, it’s almost like she’s still here. the tears. you hate the tears. they fall without your permission. they wet your pillow, “I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow.

you roll over to her side of the bed, the cold sheets solidify your loneliness. Ona’s gone. she left this morning, bags seemingly packed for such a long time that there was a little dust bunny at the back of the closet from where she hid the duffle bags.

the sun shines into your room just a little, the window left open from the night before. you had shared a glass of wine there, laughing so loud that the old man who lived across from you yelled for you two to go to bed. his wife scolded him and apologized for his behavior, blowing you a kiss and a promise of fresh pastries she would send you the next morning.

you opened the front door and there they were, neatly packed in a little basket. they were Miguelitos, Ona’s favorite. tears filled your eyes again, picking up the pretty basket with an unsteady hand. the old lady calls from across the road and you force a smile, voice breaking when you yell a thank you in a terrible attempt at Spanish. she smiles and nods anyway, watching as you tread back into the house and she sees you wiping a tear away.

they’re still warm so you leave them on the kitchen uncovered. you call Jonatan and tell him you feel like, faking a sniffle that he doesn’t buy but he gives you the day off anyway. suspiciously, Ona calls him not three minutes later with the same excuse. normally you’d call and tell him you were both under the weather but separate calls raise flags in his mind.

you crawl back into bed and begin to sob, hot tears staining your cheeks and pillow. you pull her pillow close to your chest and try to calm yourself, knowing it was no use when all you wanted was your girlfriend to hold you close and tell you everything was going to be alright.

she had done this two times before. Ona was a perfectionist, a master of her craft. every pass, tackle, dribble, and kick had to be perfect. one loose ball that was her fault meant another hour on the pitch perfecting the pass till her toes hurt from kicking the ball. the first time you had to physically throw her over your shoulder and drag her home, having a strict conversation with Alexia as she cleaned up. you made her promise to take her health seriously or Alexia would wait for the green light from you to be benched until she bucked up.

the message got to her head for about six months until a badly timed tackle earned her a second yellow of the game and the send-off. she ran off the pitch in anger, lashing out at Vicky who was comforting her as she walked off. you were on the bench with a little ankle sprain and waddled after her with Alexia, Mapi, and Pina in tow. you were ready to give her an earful when you heard muffled sobbing in the changing room. you told the others you would handle it and they backed off, faces full of concern for their friend.

“Ona?” you called, walking into the room slowly. she wiped her tears away, trying to look like she wasn’t crying. she refused to raise her head, eyes fixed on her muddy cleats.

“Amor, it’s just me,” you comfort, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. she flinches but leans into your shoulder, crying into your pressed shirt. you rock her a little and let her cry it out, gripping your coat tight as she shook in your arms.

“shh, it was just badly timed princesa. it happens.”

“I’ve let the team down, they need me…” she cried harder, snot running down her face. you reach into your pocket and pull out some tissues, reminding yourself to ask the girls which one of them stuffed it into your pocket. you wipe her face and kiss her nose.

“the girls are fine, we’re five goals up with ten minutes to go. we’ve got this game in the bag.”

“but the next games…”

“should give you a chance to rest and regroup. you’ve been working yourself to the bone again.”

“I’ve been sloppy at training, I can’t afford to make mistakes!” she yelled standing up and storming into the showers.

you lean back and decide to give her some space to breathe, hearing the loud chattering of girls high off another win and a clean sheet. you smile and congratulate them, not wanting them to worry about their teammate. Ona comes out from the showers second to last, hair wet and cheek rosy from the hot water. you sit in her cubby patiently waiting and she kisses you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologizes, fiddling with her fingers. you nod and smile at her, standing up gingerly since your legs have gone numb. she changes and you notice that she’s got one of your ratty t-shirts on and your training sweats. you shake your head and walk out the door, yelling that you’d have the car warmed up for in the front in five.

she scrambles into the car and relaxes into the seat, muscles visibly melting into the warm upholstery. you drive leisurely back home, the Barcelona sunset to your left. Ona snores in the passenger seat softly, not even waking up when the scent of the Chinese takeout you pick up fills the car.

she rouses when you park in front of your house, feeling the familiar cobblestone that you have to drive over just before bringing the car into park. she smacks her lips and feels your lips press a soft kiss on her cheek.

“We’re home, my love.”

she smiles and stretches her arms, climbing out of the car sleepily. you’ve brought all the bags into the house, already cleaning out her kit bag. she rummages through the bags of food and smiles when she smells her favorite. maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

it was as if you were here again

deep down inside me feel

Ona locks herself in her room. the sheets feel foreign, itching her skin. you always had the softest sheets, catering to her sensitive skin. the bonus was that they always smelled like you and she made sure to take deep breaths when you changed the sheets every week.

the room smelled stale too. an expected circumstance since she was rarely over here anyway. your house was closer to the pitch and she already had half the closet to herself, why make the trip every time?

there was a knock on the door about twenty minutes after she got home. she knew it was Aitana with a billion questions but all she wanted was to be alone. really she wanted to be with you but she’d fucked that up. she didn’t even know why she ran, the pressure of performing was becoming too much and she didn’t want to be a burden. she couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment she saw glimmer over your face when she got her first red card with Barça.

the banging on her bedroom door was what woke her up hours later. Aitana mentioned breakfast in the oven and coffee in the coffee pot before the front door slammed shut. she checked her phone and there was radio silence, half hoping that you had left an angry voicemail telling her to come home. instead, she was met with her wallpaper of you holding Coco over the summer at her parent’s house.  

tears pool in her eyes as she scrolls through her camera roll, swiping through all the silly photos you made her take that night. she threw her phone on the bed and screamed into the mattress, hoping deep down inside she was braver in another lifetime.

and when the light came to wake me,

and you slowly starting to fade away,

my soul was longing for you to take me,

Ona walked onto the pitch three days later, heart aching to see you. she stepped onto the pitch and spotted you talking to the girls, Ingrid slapping you on the back laughing at a joke Mapi told the group. she decides to avoid you, too cowardly to face the music. you notice her and smile but she turns away quickly, busying herself with her laces. you decide to try and corner her at the end of practice you do, needing the help of the girls to keep her from running to her car the moment Jonatan blows his whistle.

“why did you run away like that, Oni?” you ask her quietly, the rest of the team filtering out when Alexia begins to shepherd them outside.

“it’s none of your business,” she growls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she packs her kit bag. you grab her shoulder and she turns around with anger seething in her eyes. you’ve never seen hatred in her eyes before, it was unlike her; unlike your cheerful, noisy, playful but shy girlfriend.

“Ona? what’s gotten into you?” you ask, feeling tired of all the secrets she’s been harboring. for weeks you’ve been concerned about her odd behavior. she’s been making frequent visits to the medics, getting off practice earlier and staying longer sometimes, random trips to the ‘store’ for hours on end. you thought that she was planning something since your anniversary was coming up and she liked to make a big thing about it but when she left that morning it hit you that she was probably preparing to leave. this time though, it was for good.

it's her third round of dialysis this week. Ona sat in the lumpy chair of her dialysis center when her doctor walks in.

“how does it look, doctor?”

“it’s fourth-stage renal failure, Ona. you need a transplant or else you’re never playing football again. frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept playing this long.”

“Jonatan knows.”

“I see,” he says and sits. “does your girlfriend know?”

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“did you decide that for her, or did she have any say?”

Ona looks up at him in shock. she tries not to jostle the machine as she sits up.

“How did you know?”

“you looked like you didn’t want to believe it when you said it.”

“she deserves better than,” she gestures to the machine, “this.”

“she deserves you,” he says and stands. as he walks away and Ona is about to cry, he turns and clears his throat. “she’s donated blood here before, she’s a perfect donor match.”

Ona tries to cry into her palm quietly, the weight of her decision bearing down on her shoulders.

but instead,

i must live without you,

for another day.

you wake up feeling groggy, and the sound of steady heartbeats fills the room. there’s another heartbeat that deep down sounds familiar and it puts a smile on your face.

a chilling call from Jonatan put you in this hospital bed. he explained that Ona needed a transplant and that you were a perfect match. you cried in his office, body shaking with anger at yourself more than at Ona. you knew that it ran in her family and that her age was when the onset was. the extra visits to the doctor and ‘shop’ trips all made sense now. you punched a wall on your way out dramatically, crying like a baby all the way home. you barged into her house, Aitana following behind you like a puppy.

“so you were just going to run and wait for you to die?” you yelled at her, body shaking in fury. she just stared at her fingers, fiddling with the end of the throw blanket in her lap.

“answer me!”

“you don’t deserve this!” she screamed back, tears running down her face. “you don’t deserve someone who is dying to be your girlfriend!”

tears flood down your cheeks and you hear her door click closed, Aitana in front of it.

“you had no right to decide that for me, Oni!”

“I couldn’t put you through this. if I don’t get a kidney soon, first it’ll be football then it’ll be me!”

“I know I’m a match.”

her head whips up to look at you so fast, you’re sure she’s gone and given herself another ailment.

“no.”

“I’m a perfect match, Onita.”

“I could never ask you to do that!”

“you’re not asking if I’ve already asked them to make sure it goes to you.”  

“Bebé, I–”

“no, you would do the same for me. I love you too much to see you like this,” you kneel in front of her as she sits on the bed, feeling overwhelmed. “Please, Oni,” you beg with your head in her lap, “Please let me help you.”

Ona wakes up and looks over at you, sighing in relief that the surgery was a success. the nurses have pushed your beds close enough together that you stretch your arm out and she does the same, fingers laced together with an unspoken promise to face every challenge that comes your way the only way you knew was right; together.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Unbreakable Desire

A/N: thanks for the request ann - "a kid story where you and kid go to a spa and kid gets jealous while you were given a massage and so he takes over and him reminding you who you belong to" hope you like it and sorry it took so long

Warnings: nsfw, possessive and jealous Kid, teasing, edging, fingering, p in v, MDNI

Characters: Kid x F!Reader

You and Kid had been working hard with the crew, and today, you finally convinced him to take a break and relax at a high-end spa. Surprisingly, he agreed, although you suspected it was mostly because he could be near you while you were half naked.

The spa was serene. Soothing music filled the air, and steam rose from the hot spring pools where you and Kid lounged side by side. He was unusually quiet, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. You figured it was as relaxed as he could get, so you let yourself enjoy the calm atmosphere.

After that, the two of you were led to the massage room. Kid's masseuse was an older, tough-looking woman, while yours was a man with a calm, professional demeanor.

As you lay face down on the massage table, the male masseuse started working on your shoulders, easing the tension from your muscles. His hands were skilled, and soon you were melting into the table, feeling more relaxed than you had in weeks.

Kid grumbled something under his breath but didn’t say much at first. That changed when the masseuse began complimenting your ability to "relax so easily," his tone friendly but professional.

Kid’s sharp eyes flicked to the man’s hands on your back, and you could feel the air grow tense.

“Relax, huh?” Kid muttered sarcastically from his table. You glanced at him, seeing his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

He was pretending not to care, but you could see the jealousy building in his fiery gaze.

The masseuse remained oblivious, continuing his work with firm, skilled hands. Kid shifted in his spot, his annoyance becoming more obvious.

Finally, when the man placed his hands lower on your back, Kid snapped.

“Oi, hands off.”

You blinked, lifting your head slightly in surprise.

“Kid, seriously?”

Kid sat up brushing his own masseuse off and glared at yours as if daring him to argue.

“You’ve had enough. No one else gets to touch her.” His tone was dangerously low, sending a clear message.

The masseuse stammered, clearly unsure of how to respond, and Kid wasted no time in standing up, shoving the men out and slamming the door behind him as if he owned this place.

“I’ll handle this.” he muttered as he walked back to you.

“You? Give me a massage?” you asked, half-amused, half-annoyed.

“Yeah, at leastthan I don't have to worry about someone else's hands on you,” he grumbled, but there was an unmistakable possessiveness in his voice and the way he pushed you down on the table again.

He made a rough attempt at a massage, his big hands pressing too hard in some places and too lightly in others. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Kid, you’re terrible at this.” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” he muttered, a bit embarrassed but trying to hide it.

“I’d rather be bad at it than let some other guy put his hands all over you.”

As Kid's attempt at giving you a massage ended in rough, mismatched pressure, you couldn’t resist a grin. His hands may have been strong, but subtlety clearly wasn’t his strength.

“Y’know,” you said, biting your lip to suppress a giggle, “if you’re this bad at it, maybe next time I should ask Killer to come with me. I’m sure he’d be much better at—"

Before you could finish, Kid’s hands froze on your back. You instantly felt the shift in the air, his entire presence bristling. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

“You wanna repeat that?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.You laughed, unbothered by his tone.

“I’m just saying, Killer’s got those calm, steady hands, y’know? Might be more suited for something delicate like this.”

Kid turned you around so fast you nearly fell off the table, his intense crimson eyes locked on yours.

“I dare you to ask him,” he said, a wicked smirk creeping onto his lips. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing after I show you what happens when you tease me.”

Your heart skipped at his challenge, but you couldn’t help the playful glint in your eyes.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Without another word, Kid pounced. His fingers found your sides, and before you could protest, he started tickling you mercilessly. Your laughter rang out through the room as you squirmed beneath his relentless assault, trying and failing to get away from his grasp

.“Still thinking about asking Killer?” Kid taunted, smirking as you struggled to breathe between fits of laughter.

"Okay, okay! I give up!” you gasped, tears of laughter streaming down your face. “I was kidding! I’ll stick with you!”

Satisfied, Kid finally let up, grinning smugly as you lay there, catching your breath, your bare chest heaving unevenly.

He stood over you, his hands resting on the sides of the table, looking down at you with a half-smirk, half-glare.

“You think teasing me like that is funny, huh?” he muttered, leaning down closer to your face.

You lifted your chin, challenging him, still grinning despite the heat building in the room.

“It was kind of funny, actually. You get all fired up over nothing.”

Kid’s eyes darkened, the playful teasing replaced with something more intense.

“You think it’s nothing?” he growled, voice low, and before you could say another word, his metal hand shot out, grabbing your wrists firmly, pinning them down to the table.

You blinked in surprise, your heart rate quickening as you tried to pull your arms down. “Kid—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, his grip tightening slightly, his voice gravelly with frustration. “If you want to tease me, you better be ready to deal with the consequences.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, but instead, his lips brushed your ear as he whispered,

“I’m not going to let anyone think they can take what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the heat between you both escalating.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” you challenged, your pulse racing from the tension that had shifted from playful to something far more charged.

Kid’s lips curled into a smirk. “I don’t take kindly to people messing with me. And you…” He trailed his fingers along the curve of your jaw, down your neck, making your breath catch again.

“You’re going to learn what happens when you get me riled up.”

His lips finally found yours, but it wasn’t gentle—he kissed you hard, passionately, pulling you closer, his other hand now sliding down your body to grasp your waist. You felt his grip, possessive and heated, as if he wanted to claim you in every way possible.

Kid’s grip tightened on your waist, clearly going to leave bruises, his eyes darkening with a dangerous intensity.

“Let me make this clear,” Kid said, his voice steady but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think I’m some fool who’s just gonna let you walk around, teasing me like I’m nothing to you? You’re wrong.”

"Kid…” you started, but he shook his head.

“No,” he cut you off, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw, his touch still rough, but now with an undeniable sense of control. “This time, you pushed me too far. You wanted to get a rise out of me, now you’re going to deal with the consequences.”

Before you could respond, he moved quickly, his body pressing against yours with an almost predatory force. You felt the heat radiating from him as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear again, sending sparks down your body.

“I don’t like being tested,” Kid continued, his voice a deep growl, “and you’ll learn what happens when I get serious.” His hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer, his grip possessive, like he was marking his territory.

Kid’s breath was hot against your neck as he nipped and bit at the sensitive skin there, making you shudder in response.

“Don’t think for a second you can just walk away unscathed,” Kid murmured, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’m gonna remind you who’s in charge here.”

His hand moved expertly over your body, and you could feel his muscles tense with each touch, his every movement sending electric sparks through your skin. This wasn’t the same playful teasing anymore—this was Kid asserting himself in the way only he knew how, showing you that no one else could take what was his.

He pulled your body closer to the edge of the table, your feet tangling over it, his body completely covering yours as he pinned you against the soft surface. The tension between you both was suffocating, but it was intoxicating too. The kind of heat that made everything else disappear, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the intensity of his touch.

The mix of his dominance and the overwhelming sense of his presence left you speechless. His hands slid down your body slowly, deliberately, as if every touch was meant to remind you of his control.

"I’m not gonna let anyone else take what’s mine,” he repeated, his voice rough. “And you’re not going to forget that anytime soon.”

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand on your thigh, slowly moving higher and higher. The pressure was deliberate, each movement making your heart race faster, your body betraying your mind's attempt to resist. Kid’s fingers were warm and firm against your skin, and with every inch they moved upward, you could feel the tension building inside you.

“Kid...” you whispered, your voice barely audible, caught between defiance and desire. The air between you two was thick with unspoken things, and you felt it in the way his touch sent a shock through you, every nerve sparking to life.

You tried to move, to shift away or push him off, but his metallic hand didn't let go of your wrists and sonthey remaind pinned above your head with ease, his strength not giving you a chance to escape.

“You started this, remember? Now you’re gonna see it through.”

His fingers finally reached the hem of the towel, and you froze, your body caught between the heat of wanting more and the fear of what it meant. With a swift movement he ripped the towel from you the air against your bare skin making you shiver.

You could feel the weight of his hands on you, the possessiveness and power in every movement, and your body responded without hesitation, the need for him growing stronger.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” Kid’s voice was low, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his lips grazing your neck.

His hands never stopped, always moving, always inching closer to the edge of what you knew you wanted

You bit your lip, the moment stretching as Kid’s intense gaze met yours. There was no hesitation this time, no second-guessing. His hand was still dangerously close to where you needed him, and you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, a mix of excitement and anticipation that made your head spin. Every inch of you screamed for him to keep going

Kid’s lips twisted into a smirk, the dark glint in his eyes flaring with something that made your pulse race.

Without a second thought, Kid's hand brushed over your folds pushing you closer to the edge, his touch searing you with every movement. Before pushing at first one finger than another inside you, guiding you to follow his rhythm. It was like he knew exactly what you needed—and exactly how far to push.

His finger moved with purpose, the weight of his touch making your head spin. He pressed against you, his body heat engulfing you entirely, leaving no space between you. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on your skin, his fingers moving at a maddening pace claiming you in ways that felt raw and liberating all at once

The teasing, the slow build-up—it was all too much. Every touch, every move of his fingers, made your body ache in ways you couldn’t control. You could feel yourself becoming undone, your mind clouded with desire, your body trembling in anticipation of what you knew he could give you.

Kid, though, didn’t relent. His fingers were driving you crazy while his lips were grazing your skin in a maddeningly slow rhythm, drawing out each second until you were sure you might snap. His smirk only deepened at the sight of your desperation, his gaze flickering between your face and the way your body reacted to every inch of his touch. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed more.

"Kid..." You gasped as his lips found your nipple biting down on it, your voice breaking as you squirmed beneath him, desperate for him to do something—anything. The teasing had pushed you too far, and now the pressure in your chest, the heat in your body, was unbearable.

"Please…"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how you were falling apart. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Please, what?" he asked, his voice rough, like he was barely keeping it together himself.

You whimpered at the sound of his voice—so demanding, so confident.

It made your chest tighten in anticipation. The control he held over you, the way he was teasing you to the brink, was driving you insane. You needed him, needed him to stop holding back, to stop making you beg.

"I can’t take it any longer."

Kid chuckled darkly, the sound of it sending a wave of heat through your body. His fingers continued its maddening path, slowly, so slowly, that every inch felt like an eternity. He could see the desperation in your eyes, hear it in your voice, and he was loving every second of it.

"You're such a mess," he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"And it's all because of me."

You moaned, tilting your head back, giving him more access to your throat, unable to control the sounds escaping your lips. And suddenly he pulled his fingers out of you. His hand finally cupped the side of your thigh, gripping it firmly, pulling you even closer, the pressure between you two building.

"You're begging now," Kid said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled off the towel around his waist and aligned himself between your legs. "You want me to finish what I started, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, your body aching, your chest tight with desire.

"Yes," you breathed, "please. Don’t tease me anymore. I can’t—"

But before you could finish, you felt his cock push inside you and Kid’s lips were on yours again, cutting off your moans as he kissed you deeply, fiercely, as if he was trying to take every bit of you with him.

His hands were everywhere now, his touch more urgent, more demanding, making you forget everything except the feeling of his body against yours. The teasing was over. You were past the point of no return. His thrusts became rougher more demanding as you arched your back your whole body on fire now.

You were moaning and screaming his name as you felt him release himself inside of you only for you to follow him with your own orgasm.

Kid pulled back slightly, his smirk returning as he studied your face, your expression wild with need.

"I told you," he said, his voice low and serious, "you'd be begging for more. And now, look at you."

“Next time, keep your teasing to a minimum,” he warned, voice rough. “Or I’ll remind you just how serious I can get.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide still panting but smirking.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both,” Kid growled, his voice dripping with possessive intent as he pulled you closer again, not giving you a chance to respond.

[star2fishmeg]

some guy hitting on you at a bar while luke is in the bathroom and you’re trying so hard to steer him away but you just can’t and all of a sudden you feel luke wrapping himself around you, saying “baby did you show your new friend the tattoo you got for me? oh that’s right he wouldn’t be able to see there bc that’s for my eyes only” and then dragging you home

"lu, you can calm down now, i'm sure that he got the message. it's okay." you say, watching your boyfriend's vice grip on his steering wheel tighten.

"no but it's not okay, he was undressing you with his eyes the entire night, like i wasn't even there," he huffs, "could he not see we're together?"

you sigh, prying one of his hands off the wheel and setting it on your thigh, feeling his muscles relax on the flesh. you were there, in his car, with him. not with the other guy, and your tattoo was very much still for his eyes only. he's not mad at you, why would he be, he trusts you and it's not like you were begging for the dude's attention.

"m'sorry, princess. it's just," his thumb rubs over your skin softly and he exhales, "you needed me and i wasn't there."

damn right you needed him. the way he wrapped his arm around you and bragged about his number on you with his full chest had you soaked. his hand firm on your hipbone, even reminding you of the tat that had him burying his face and tongue in you for hours after seeing. lips pulling into a flirty smile, you move his hand further up your thigh, his eyes flickering to your face, "well...you're here now and maybe i still need you."

luke's mood vanishes as quickly as it hit him at the bar, his chest finding a warmth and he takes a sharp turn into an empty hiking trail car park. parking the furthest away from the entrance, he pulls the handbrake, other hand slipping between your legs and brushing his knuckle against your clit over your jeans.

"show me that tattoo again, babe."

[peachsukii]

one-way ticket | tangled hearts series ⇢ it's the weekend, hooray! after a long week at all of your respective jobs, you and the boys plan to take some time to head into the city to visit friends for drinks and merriment. you've gotten to know a few of their friends through passing, but they plan to introduce you as their girlfriend for the first time. what could go wrong? but before that, you have to sit through a grueling lunch with Mitsuki…alone.

content // emotional comfort, fluff, accidental coming out wc // 1.6k note // funded by the @ficsforgaza project! (sponsor a wip) <3 ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿ ↶ | previous entry (stitched muses) ↷ | next entry (building up like waves)

"Your mom texted me last night, she wants to have lunch with me."

Bakugo's eyes linger over his coffee mug in your direction, two seconds from spitting it all over the table.

"She texted you?"

You nod, pulling out your phone and sliding it across the table to him. "I guess she got my number from Eiji? I don't mind, but the way she phrased it sounds like…she knows."

He scans over the messages before handing the phone back to you.

"She's gonna find out one way or another."

Bakugo was being extremely…calm about this. That soothed your nerves a bit, but not entirely.

"Are you sure?" you ask, double checking for your own sanity. "I don't mind her knowing, I just don't wanna mess anything up or say the wrong thing."

"Sweetheart, her son is married to a man, I've been down this road with her before. Addin' a woman into the equation is not far-fetched," he laughs before taking another sip of coffee.

"Kats had a girlfriend or two before we dated in college," Kirishima chimes in, nonchalantly strolling into the kitchen with a yawn. "So did I. You'll be meeting them this weekend!"

Wait…what?

Bakugo catches the brief look of worry that flashes across your face.

"Don't make it a big deal, Ei. It's been over a decade and they're both married now," he combats, waving his hand toward Kirishima to knock it off.

"There's nothing to worry about, angel. Mina and Ochako are sweet girls, you'll get along with them perfectly," Kirishima comments while patting you on the back. You puff out a quiet laugh, fiddling with the handle of your coffee mug in silence.

"Hey now, it's alright! Mom's all bark and no bite. If you can handle Katsuki, you're more than well equipped to spend an hour with her."

Kirishima makes a decent point, giving you the boost of confidence you needed to calm yourself down. All you had to do was sit with her for an hour and let her lead the conversation.

What's the worst that could happen?

~

Friday's luncheon with Mitsuki arrives in the blink of an eye. You're standing outside the café she suggested, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt while you wait.

'Calm down, don't panic. The boys told you there is no reason to be nervous,' you remind yourself as you take a deep breath. 'If you act odd, she's going to suspect something⎯'

"Hi sweetie!" Mitsuki greets, interrupting your thought and startling you when she lays her hand on your shoulder. "Hope I didn't keep ya waitin' long."

"No! Not at all," you respond with a smile.

It's astounding to you how alike Bakugo and his mother are not only physically, but down to the mannerisms, too. She leads you inside the cafe by the hand and picks a table by the window. Once the two of you have ordered, Mitsuki's grinning wickedly as she leans onto the table, chin laying atop her folded hands.

Well, shit. She's about to drill into you, no doubt about it.

"I'm sure you're wonderin' why I asked you to lunch," she begins, tilting her head as she analyzes your body language. "But ya look a little nervous, dear."

You shake your head and wave your hands in response, trying not to come off as too jumpy.

"I'm alright! Sorry Mrs. Baku⎯"

"Oh honey, none of that formality bullshit. Call me Mitsuki," she orders with a huff. "Katsuki and Eijiro talk very highly of you, and I was curious to find out more about ya."

Oh shit.

She knows.

"That's sweet of them! They're good friends of mine," you respond, trying your damndest to hide the quiver in your voice. "We met a few months back when I moved to the area for a job transfer. I went to Eijiro's gym for a yoga class on a whim and the rest is history."

Mitsuki leans back in her chair with her arms crossed as if she's studying you.

"A meet cute, how sweet." Her tone is dry, almost accusatory. You're thankful the waitress brings over your drinks before she presses further, giving you an extra few seconds to stall and compose yourself.

"So," she sighs, shaking her head. "M'just gonna ask. Are you sleeping with my son?"

You straighten in your seat, unable to stop the physical reaction to Mitsuki's bluntness.

"Uhh…" you hesitantly whisper while biting your lip.

Laughter.

Mitsuki begins cackling at your hesitation, smacking the table dramatically and holding her side, her eyes glassy with glee. What the fuck?

"Sorry, it's not you I'm laughin' at," she wheezes while catching her breath. "Can I show you something?" She reaches into her purse to grab her phone, sliding it across the table for you to read. "Read this."

What choice do you have? You're already mortified by her reaction, you might as well entertain whatever the hell she wants to show you. You glance at her phone to see her company e-mail inbox on display, a specific e-mail opened in a smaller window.

From: Katsuki Bakugo <kbakugo@flarewing.co> To: Mitsuki Bakugo <mibakugo@flarewing.co> Subject: Untitled Dress Prototype T-shirt styled dress, plain or with graphics. Worn in look - rips or bleach stains? Stops mid-thigh. Prototype measurements: …

"Mitsuki, I'm not sure I follow what you're trying to tell me," you admit, lost as you skimmed the remainder of the message. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Sweetheart," she giggles while pointing to the measurements in the e-mail. "Those aren't Eijiro's measurements. He's modeled things for us in the past and we have them on file, Katsuki wouldn't need to write them down. Plus, it's obvious who they belong to."

That's when your eyes find the damning evidence - he included your name after the measurements. From the looks of it, the e-mail was never supposed to be sent to anyone and should have stayed in his drafts. He must've accidentally clicked 'Send' in his fatigued state instead of 'Save.'

"Katsuki never let's anyone model his clothes, especially prototypes, outside of Eijiro and pre-selected candidates in our company database. He doesn't know I have this."

Well…Bakugo did say "She's gonna find out one way or another." Guess the cat's out of the bag, unbeknownst to him.

"So," Mitsuki chirps, smirk tugging on her lips. "What's your deal with my son?"

You slump your shoulders, sighing to yourself. "I'm…dating him. And Eijiro."

She practically spits out her drink, covering her mouth in surprise.

"Do they know?!" She shouts, deeply invested in all of the delicious details of your confession. It dawns on you how salacious this all sounds and how it reads like a reality show plot line.

"Yes, we're all together. I'm not cheating with one or the other."

Mitsuki almost looks disappointed before her expression shifts into a gentle acceptance.

"Do you love them?"

Your first instinct is to say 'yes, absolutely,' but it's only been a few months and you have not confessed to them…yet. You've overheard the two of them say it to one another, but never in your direction. It's a delicate topic, a stepping stone you're not sure they're looking to climb with you and you didn't want to risk losing them.

"…yeah, I do, but I haven't told them yet," you answer, fingers tapping nervously against the glass of your drink. She reaches across the table and pushes her phone aside to hold your hand, forcing you to make eye contact with her.

"Hun, s'okay. I know you probably weren't expecting this today," she shakes her head with a soft smile spreading across her lips. "Sorry for blindsiding you, but I was prepared to give you hell for ruining my son's marriage. Turns out, you're enlightening it. It's a relief to hear."

A relief?

"You're not…?" your question hangs in the air as Mitsuki begins to giggle to herself a second time, letting go of your hand to take her phone back and put it into her purse.

"No, m'not mad or disappointed. If both Katsuki and Eijiro approve of you, then so do I. Takes a lot for Katsuki to like anyone, let alone date them. That kid's serious about his inner circle and keeping his bubble small."

Wow. Bakugo was right, it wasn't far-fetched at all. You had no reason to be concerned about her being unaccepting of you.

"Thank you, Mitsuki. I'm sorry this wasn't more formally done," you apologize, one hand moving to your nape in embarrassment. She waves a hand to dismiss your condolences.

"Oh sweetheart, this didn't happen. We're gonna pretend Katsuki didn't out himself and let the two of them properly introduce you when the time it right." She gives you a wink. "Our little secret. 'Kay?"

You nod with a warm smile.

"Yeah, thank you."

~

Later that night, your phone rattles on the nightstand with an incoming call from Bakugo. He's probably dying to know how your lunch date with his mom went.

"Hey sweetheart," he greets. "How'd lunch with Ma go?"

You can't help the warmth blooming your chest before you answer.

"It went great! Mitsuki's sweet as can be. She showed me some of your baby pictures."

No, she didn't, but it's a decent cover for what you actually talked about.

You hear him huff sarcastically. "She always does that shit. Means she likes ya, though."

"Aw, I feel special."

"'Cause ya are, idiot. Anyways, be here tomorrow by 2, dinner's at 5 in the city."

Oh…right. You're meeting their friends tomorrow for dinner.

"Sure. Say good night to Eiji for me."

"Can do. Night, baby."

"Night, Kats."

When you hang up, you flop back onto your bed with the biggest smile on your face…until you remember they're planning on telling their friends about your relationship tomorrow.

You survived a luncheon with Mitsuki, what's another dinner?

✿ wildflowers // @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201

@lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent

@pastelbakugou @hannahk @camryn-ciel67 @c4prisuna

@perfectsukii @lightsgore @cuntpiercedprincess @mrcleans4headwrinkle

@mimi53213 @lainlovelain @d4n1elll4 @h0n3y-l3m0n05

@im-sinking-in-mud

[secretkinkz]

"Relax, you can take it" (Sylus)

You lay in bed, smelling Sylus in your sheets. He hasn't been home in two days. The only thing you've gotten from him is a reminder to take care of yourself while he's gone. Two days... Without him was hell. You needed him, he'd left you needy the day he left. Hoping to come back to you on your knees and waiting.

If you could hear his voice, it would soothe your nerves a bit. You've never been away from him this long, it was unnatural.

"Sylus." You whispered, grabbing your phone and looking at the messages he has yet to respond to.

You both were married. You got engaged a month after you unlinked. He found you interesting and felt alive being with you. Sylus felt it was necessary to keep you.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes in hopes of falling asleep and waking up to Sylus next to you.

"Kitten, I'm home."

You hear Sylus call out from downstairs, you're eyes widen as you get up and dash downstairs. "Sylus!" You grinned, hugging him. He smiles slightly, lifting you.

"Did you eat?" He asked, burying his head into the crook of your neck. At the same time you both inhale each other scents. "Yeah.." You whisper, closing your eyes as he takes you upstairs. "Good."

He smelled like soap like he took a shower before coming home. Which lets you know his intentions were the same as yours.

Sylus leaves a trail of kisses down your stomach as he removes your shorts, not stopping until he reaches your bare cunt.

"I haven't even done anything yet."

He places your legs on his shoulders, lowering his head between your legs.

"Sylus." You moan as he takes your clitoris into his mouth.

Sucking, biting, and licking every in of you.

"Do I need to tie your hands together?" He questions as you try and move his head.

"No..." You say breathlessly, trying to keep still.

Fuck, it felt so good. Adding to the mix, he slips a finger in. Hitting your g-spot as his tongue flicks faster. "Oh! Yess!"

You pant, gripping his hair. "Sylus, Sylus."

You hear a low guttural moan escape him, "Lie on your stomach"

You turn on your stomach, ass up.

He pushes your legs apart using his knee, pressing himself at your entrance.

The coldness from his cock sent shivers down my spine.

Sylus huffed out a breath, his warm exhale brushing against your skin, igniting a shiver that danced along your spine. He drew you closer, his strong hands wrapping around your waist with a possessive tenderness that made your heart race. "So this is what you wanted, huh?" he grunted, the low timbre of his voice sending ripples of anticipation coursing through you. His hips moved with a deliberate rhythm, rocking back and forth in a way that sent waves of pleasure surging through your body.

Every movement felt like a tantalizing tease, igniting your senses as you melted against him, your body instinctively wanting more. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, an unspoken question lingering in the air, thick with longing. "To have me like this, after two days separated. Have you calmed down, Kitten? You missed me, is all?" he rasped, his words laced with a hint of possessiveness that both thrilled and comforted you.

Soft whines escaped your lips, the sound barely more than a breathy plea as you clung to him, your fingers slipping around his tensed shoulders. The muscles beneath your fingertips were coiled and alive, responding to your touch as if drawing strength from your proximity.

At that moment, the world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a symphony of sensation—his body, warm and inviting, against yours.

Each thrust of his hips sent delicious tremors through your core, stirring a heat that spread through your entire being.

You reveled in the intoxicating blend of desire and intimacy, feeling the weight of the day's absence dissolve into the electric connection between you.

You couldn't help but nod weakly, at his words, muttering a soft yet barely perceptible "I missed you" against him. he loved the way you looked right now, all teary and sweet, begging for his attention.

Your trembling legs held up your weight as more tears prickled at the corner of your eyes.

He was, nonchalantly, stuffing you full of his inches, steadily rolling his hips inside of you.

His finger hooked beneath your chin, tilting it up so he could gauge your reactions better. "look at me," he commanded, his voice raspy. You slowly open your eyes.

Your eyes were red, half-lidded—almost drunk with pleasure.

The way his thickness dragged so easily against your folds

His tongue meets yours, deepening the kiss, and he's pumping into you, taking you, over and over again.

You mutter through your moans. "Faster"

Almost immediately, he complied. Slamming his hips into yours.

"Is it too hard?" He whispered, gripping your chin. "N-No."

"Good, you can endure this." He slaps your ass, pounding you harder. You shriek, gripping the sheets as your mouth falls open. "S-Sylus!" You cry out. "S-Slow down, it's too much."

"Stop complaining." He hums, sitting up and pushing your head into the pillows. He felt you clench down on him as if you liked the force.

Oh, "you like that, don't you?" Sylus growls, his hand coming down hard on your ass again, leaving a stinging warm mark on your supple flesh. "I can feel you tightening around me." His hips snap forward, driving his thick length deeper into your wet heat, stretching you deliciously.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. "That's it, sweetheart. Take every inch of me," he rasps against your mouth, punctuating his words with another powerful thrust.

His free hand roams your body possessively, tweaking a nipple before trailing lower, teasing your sensitive clit. "You're mine, all mine. This sweet little pussy belongs to me," he groans, his voice husky with lust.

Sylus can feel your walls fluttering around him, signaling your impending release. "Come for me, kitten. Let me feel you come on my cock" he commands, his fingers working your clit in tight circles, pushing you closer to the edge.

"It's too much, fuck."

"Relax, you can handle it."

He pounds into you relentlessly, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Sylus can feel your slick walls clenching around him, milking his throbbing length with each thrust. "Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

"S-Sylus." You cry, as he pulls you against him. Your back against his chest.

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, stroking and rubbing the sensitive nub until you're writhing against his hold, incoherent pleas spilling from your lips. That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me, he urges, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

"Come on, baby. I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me," he coaxes.

" Sylus! Sylus, fuck!" I bite down on my lip, drawing blood. It was so intense, I shook with each thrust. My eyes welled with tears as he gripped my hair, biting my neck lightly. "Hmm, such a filthy mouth." He whispered, releasing you. You bury your face into the pillows as he grips your hair.

I huffed, gripping the sheets as my eyes rolled back. "Y-Y-Yess! Please! Sylus, more. Fuck me more."

Sylus's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back to expose the column of your throat. He licks a hot stripe up your neck before biting down, marking you as his. "Y/n," he growls, his hips snapping forward with brutal force.

The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. Sylus can feel your body trembling beneath him, your walls clenching around his throbbing length. That's it, baby. Take it. Take every fucking inch, he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure.

I grip his hand as he planted them next to my head. "Kiss me." I whimpered.

Sylus placed his hand on my chin and pulled my head back, kissing me gently. His thrusts were still rough and fast.

My brows furrowed as his hips jerked, his thrusts becoming more sloppy signaling he was near. I moaned against his lips as we both came. Sylus groaned as his eyes fluttered shut.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans of pleasure as you both tumble over the edge together. Sylus's hips jerk erratically, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated as he chases his climax. He breaks the kiss, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rides out the waves of ecstasy.

That's it, baby. Take it all, he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure. He can feel your slick walls fluttering around him, prolonging his orgasm as he empties himself inside you.

Sylus pulls out with a long moan, turning you on your side. 

"Wake up, now's not the time for resting dear. I've yet to start."

~~~~~

A/N: Honestly, Sylus will be seeing me often. That, yes, no, maybe so? It got me pregnant. And I am. BACK. Edit: I'm strangling myself right now. The title says, "Relax. You can take it." But I said, "Relax. You can handle it."

[mysumeow]

──Trouble sleeping

WARNINGS ❪ Afab body, reader is referred to with you/your. YANDERE Lyney. Very mild angst. Unrealistic hypnosis, dub-con, piv unprotected sex. Not proofread. SUMMARY ❪ You have trouble sleeping, and Lyney suggests hypnosis therapy to solve it. Lyney is, however, dishonest with how he applies said hypnosis. WORD COUNT ❪ 873 A/N ❪ I remembered I had this smut idea pending since last year i think? ok here it is. ok bye im hungry

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

You approached the great magician Lyney with a problem: you were having trouble sleeping.

Not really expecting anything out of your conversation, as you were seeking mere emotional support, Lyney confessed that he had some dexterity in the art of hypnosis and that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

It was a success, seeing as you had fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the session, when on average, it would’ve taken you way longer. Unbeknownst to you, in the throes of sleep, he had whispered selfish suggestions into your subconscious.

... Had he known it was going to be this easy, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

He’s underserving of your love; he was aware. The moment you two met, he was unable to let go of you in all aspects. He looked forward to seeing you at his presentations, at the celebratory dinners after an unrivaled performance, and to having you visit him backstage before a show.

To take you home and have you for the rest of the night.

Perhaps he asked for too much. He thought there was a possibility of the universe knowing he didn’t deserve you, and that’s why things didn’t turn out as he daydreamed they would, without having to resort to this deceitful method...

The feeling of your heaving chest against his and your arms tightening around his shoulders as you rode him pulled him out of his mind, reminding him that he should enjoy this precious moment with you.

Lyney’s hold on your hips became tighter, taking the reigns on the pace again, canting his hips upwards to meet your body at an unforgiving pace. He sucked marks onto your neck.

Greed consumed his judgment, and he bit down with unprecedented force.

Your pained whine didn’t deter him from sucking more hickeys on your unprofaned skin. He needed this. Everyone has to know you’re his.

“Ow, Lyney…” You cried again, hoping that would send him the message to be gentler.

His thrusting ceased, and he put some space between your bodies, but not by much. It was only to take in the sight of the teeth shaped dents on your flesh, along with the reddish marks scattered in the expanse of your shoulders.

Lyney wasn’t a rough lover. He’s got enough introspection to know that.

Your existence, from day one, made him discover a new train of thoughts he was never aware that he could have: the cravings of roughing up in the most pleasurable of ways. Often, Lyney would fantasize about littering your body with his kisses and bites, seizing your arms, and securing you against his frame—not leaving a single inch of space between one another.

Your lovestruck visage seemed to lure him deeper into degeneracy, after all, not only were your eyes pleading for more, but your body as well. Lyney swallowed hard, calming himself down before he cummed too fast with how your pussy tensed around him.

“F-Fuck, Lyney— You feel so good,” You whined, locking your legs around him and using the leverage to make him thrust into you. “Why did you stop? Hurry up, please. Fuck your cum into me,”

Your words weren’t helping his case. Lyney panted against your neck, content with merely kissing and kneading your tits with his hands, his fingers pinching your nipples and making you tremble from lust.

The magician longed for this moment to never end, for the morning to never come, when the hypnosis would end for that day. Because you’ll forget everything that happened prior to the hypnosis, and you’ll want to come back to him every day so he can help you. Lyney convinced himself that he could allow himself to be selfish for once in his life.

“What a naughty mouth for such a lovely face,” He tutted before nipping your bottom lip. Whichever retort you had died in your throat when Lyney’s tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with yours without permitting a single second for you to collect your thoughts. “But who am I to deny you when you keep pulling me into you, as if not wanting to let go…”

With those words, he resumed his unyielding thrusts, and the lascivious noise of the bed creaking from the movements filled the room. Lyney hugged the leg you proceeded to rest on his shoulder, your other leg quivering from the onslaught of pleasure behind him. The position made it easier for him to stuff you with his dick; it was too much, and you lost yourself in the delightful sensations. Lyney was lucid enough to understand you were about to give out, so his hand darted to hold yours, squeezing it to keep you grounded.

Amidst the heartfelt intertwinement, a broken whine of his name escaped your lips when you orgasmed. Lyney doubled over at the feeling of your drenched cunt squeezing him so deliciously, he didn’t stand a chance and cummed almost right after you.

As he caught his breath, he helped you lower your leg back in its place and pressed his lips to yours, his hand caressing the side of your face.

[konigsblog]

simon riley as a dad.

a/n; in this, simon is a single dad. please leave requests in my inbox, they're always open !! will make a part two if requested !!!

second photo isn't mine, message me the creators name and i'll update it ☀️

simon was definitely nervous to become a father. the thoughts of becoming like his own plagued his mind, stress forming as the due date came closer.

his beautiful baby girl was born. wipsy blonde hair, eyes lile her mothes, a birthmark on her chest, above her heart. he couldn't help himself, sobbing whilst he held his newborn, his little girl immediately calming down as soon as she was placed on his hands, eyes widening and staring at him with adoration and love, raising her small hand to his cheek.

the only person that new about simon's daughter was price, a man he could trust. it wasn't that he couldn't trust johnny or kyle, it would be easier to tell price as simon himself viewed price as a father. showing him the polaroid photos of his girl, smiling underneath the mask while talking about her.

it's her first day if school, and simon is unsure if he can let her go. he watches as the other adults send their kids off, hugging them goodbye whilst they skipped into school. his eyes glistening, becoming glossy as he held her tight, rocking her from side to side, forcing his tears back before kissing her forehead.

- “dad, i met a boy in my class!!” she yells out, excited to have made a new friend. the word ‘boy’ lingers in his mind. boy, oh god.

helping her with her homework after school seems boring and uninteresting, but to simon, everything about his daughter is exciting and interesting, it's his favourite part of the day; waking up and greeting her, watching as she scoffs down her breakfast, laughing and giggling with him.

i think by the times johnny and kyle figure out simon has a daughter, she's probably be around four. they literally yelled, unsurprisingly and exactly how he thought they'd react. rolling his eyes, yet a smirk hidden under his skull mask. - “the fuck do you mean you have a daughter??”

she definitely looks up to him. talks about him constantly with her guy friend. mentions that she wanted to do what he does for work, causing simon to spit his tea our and nearly have a panic attack at the thought. curling up to her, letting her rest her head on his chest as she took an afternoon nap after school, playing with her dirty blonde hair.

soap meeting her for the first time was definitely something.. he literally was jumping up and down the entire time, launching himself at the poor little girl infront of him, sobbing and whining because she didn't know who this freak was.

calmed down after simon explained that he was his colleague. price scolding him, simon glaring, kyle trying his absolute hardest not to start crying from laughter. - “oh my god, you're simons daughter!?!” johnny screams.

played games with kyle. beat him every single time - got accused of cheating.

price is calm, probably met her before the rest, letting her sit next to him while she talks about the her friend. raising his eyebrow to simon teasingly as she mentions the same boy, laughing at his expression, angered and terrified of a four year old - probably threatens to beat him up before reminded that was a kid.

as the future comes, she gets a boyfriend, and unexpectedly, and unsurprisingly, it's that same boy. literally is gritting his teeth and lecturing her. - “careful, kid. i know you think you love him, but he could be a shit person, 'alright? i'm not gonna let some boy hurt and ruin my daughter.” - “dad, im literally five.”

johnny becomes close with her (after attacking her) letting her out make-up on him. eyeshadow on his cheeks, lip stick on his eyes, false eyelashes on his lips. and kyle has a botched manicure, some nails placed on his palm.

- i can't be bothered adding anything more since it's nighttime, and i'm pretty tired 😵‍💫 tell me your thoughts and opinions ! :)

- will make a part two if wanted and requested.

[dexastres]

anchor, part two

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 927

part one

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:51 A.M.

After that phone call, she couldn’t get to sleep. How could she when the guilt gnawed at her, thinking Jude was crying because of her? How could she close her eyes after reading the messages he sent? How could she? Her mind was in chaos, in contrast to the calm that filled her room.

“Did he truly mean what he said?” She wondered. She sighed, her thoughts weighed down by nostalgia. She turned on the lights and made her way to her closet, looking for a box.

When she broke up with Jude, she gathered all their photos, letters and small gifts that he had given her, placing them in a box because she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. It held fragments of a history that she was trying to leave behind, but she knew they had shared a special bond. She had understood it from their very first encounter.

After rummaging through the shelves, she finally found it. She sat down and opened the box. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of it, bringing back countless cherished memories.

“It hurts me to say this, but I still love you, Jude.” She murmured, wiping away her tears. “So, please, don’t hurt me again.” Her voice faded, drowned in the sudden rainfall.

04:55 A.M. “Are you free today? We need to talk.” She sent him this last message before falling back asleep.

07:45 A.M. Jude lay on his bed, listening to the rain outside. His eyes lingered on the empty side of the bed, and his heart clenched at the painful reminder of what he had lost. The young man sighed, but instantly regretted it because of the terrible headache he had after crying so much the night before.

Wincing, Jude got up and headed to his bathroom, without looking at his phone that kept vibrating on his bedside table. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he gasped; the dark circles under his eyes and his livid complexion made him look like a zombie.

“I’m so glad Ancelotti moved our training to this afternoon.” Jude muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand down his face. Once he was done with his morning routine, he headed to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” The young man said with a raspy voice. His mother was startled and turned around to face her son, who was entering the room. She was surprised to see him up so early, knowing how much Jude loved to sleep in when his training sessions were scheduled later in the day.

“Good morning.” Denise greeted him with a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw the state her son was in. She walked towards Jude and pulled him into a hug.

“What's wrong, Jude? You can talk to me, you know. I hate to see you like this.” She pleaded, her voice trembling with worry. An overwhelming silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Jude’s shoulders slumped, and he began to sob. He clung to his mother as tears streamed down his face.

“I miss her, and I’m an idiot for treating her like shit when we were together.” Jude admitted while staring at the floor. He had never been afraid to cry in front of his mother, but this time it was different. The pain he carried was laced with shame.

“I shouldn’t be the one crying when I’m the reason she left. I’m the one to blame for our breakup. She loved me. She always stood by my side. She made me happy, but I never gave her that love in return. I let her go without fighting for us, and now she’s dating someone who treats her better than I did. I regret everything I’ve done. I wish I could go back, fix my mistakes, and tell her how much…"

Jude paused for a moment. "I want to tell her how much I love her."

Denise robbed his back as he continued to speak. She struggled to find the right words, but she understood that her son wasn’t looking for advice, but rather a sympathetic ear. They stayed like that for another five minutes. Jude already felt better. The weight on his shoulders disappeared, although his headache got worse.

“Thanks, Mum. I needed that. I think I’ll go back to sleep. I’ll eat later if that’s okay with you.” Denise nodded in response, then placed a kiss on his forehead before releasing him from her embrace.

“Go rest.” Jude smiled and went back to his room. Lying on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, letting the raindrops soothe him. However, his alarm went off, interrupting his moment of peace.

Frustrated, Jude reached for his phone from the nightstand and it turned off. As he was about to put down his device, a series of messages caught his eye. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open as he read them.

“What? She’s not with him anymore?” His heart pounded, his trembling hands held the phone as he stared at the screen. Jude blinked, both surprised and confused. He didn’t know how to react. A flood of emotions washed over him: hope, guilt and nervousness.

“I have a training session at 2, but I’m free after that. We could meet at our café at 5.” Jude sent the message and closed his phone without waiting for an answer.

“Our café… I haven’t been there since we broke up.” He whispered before falling back asleep.