#(they as in me for continuing to watch this series)

[deadpcnned]

you're so vain (jj.m)

coming soon!

general masterlist | join the taglist

pairing: jj maybank x reader (au)

synopsis: for as long as anyone can remember, jj maybank has been a ladies’ man—willing to charm any girl with a pulse. you, on the other hand, have never been easily won over, shutting down unwanted advances without a second thought in the name of higher pursuits.

so when his friends bet he can’t get with you, he sees it as just another challenge. what he doesn’t know is that you have a bet of your own—act like the worst girlfriend possible, and prove that guys don't just stick around for looks.

at first, it’s just a game. your weird quirks and stubborn attitude are nothing he can’t handle, and his flirtations are nothing more than motivation for you. but with every passing day, it all seems less like a game and more... real. what happens when winning the bet means losing each other?

* this series is inspired by 'how to lose a guy in 10 days' *

content warning(s): au, drugs, alcohol, language

author's note: uh oh, another series... like most girls, i am such a big fan of this movie and i couldn't resist adding my own spin to the plot. this series won't be starting until probably the end of february, but i wanted to go ahead and post it!

“I seriously doubt a guy would stick around if he were fishing out spinach from my mouth every time we kissed,” You mumble, rolling your eyes at Ruthie as you return to tightly winding Sarah’s hair around the curling iron. Your grip tightens around the pink handle, more from exasperation than focus. Topper seriously needs to reconsider his recent taste in women.

Ruthie pushes herself up from the bed and saunters over to the two of you, a spark of mischief shining in her eyes that catches your attention in the mirror. Without warning, she scoops the ottoman from under your knee, ignoring your annoyed huff as she plops down. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, shaking her head as if she’s explaining something painfully obvious. “Boys are simple. They’ll do anything for a good fuck.” 

“Ruthie!” 

“Sarah!” You exclaim, pulling away the curling wand hovering dangerously close to her turned cheek. “Stop moving! I almost burned you!” You cautiously rest your curling wand on the vanity, crossing your arms as you address Ruthie’s tireless campaign. “Ruthie, that’s just not true. Men suck, but they’re not that desperate.” 

“Care to test it?” The look she gives you, so full of unwarranted confidence, makes it tempting to agree blindly to whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. But in the short time you’ve known her, you’ve gathered jumping headfirst into whatever she plans is maybe not the smartest thing to do. 

“How would we do that?” You arch a brow, playing it cool, the picture of nonchalance. Girls like Ruthie want you to bark when you should be biting back. The best way to handle them is to beat them at their own game. It doesn’t matter how uneasy her grin makes you. You have to look like the picture of perfect insouciance. 

“Easy. You reel in some sucker and make him regret it. Clingy, loud, jealous – I’m talking full nightmare fuel.” 

“Me?” You scoff, reaching for the iron. “Sarah, I swear, if you move–”

 Sarah hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t angle her face towards the circular mirror like you need her to. She’s too busy watching Ruthie, waiting for her following words. 

“Yes, you.” 

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” You fuss, shifting your position to continue working on Sarah’s hair. You twist Sarah’s blond hair around the silver rod as you suggest, “You test it out with Topper. You’re the one with something to prove.”

“I’m actually serious about Topper,” Ruthie counters and you have to physically bite your tongue from making a snarky comment. “And you’re perfect for this. You’re objectively hot and leaving at the end of the summer. No strings with a hot chick? Guys eat that up.” 

“Ruthie, remind me again why you’re with Topper if you have such a low opinion of the entire male species,” Sarah asks. Sarah eyes Ruthie with a mix of genuine curiosity and plain judgment. Ruthie doesn’t dignify Sarah with a response, upholding the same catty attitude she’s maintained with her since the start of the evening. “Or not.” 

You and Sarah share a long look, not hiding your indignation, but you can’t deny that beneath you’re irritation, you’re a little interested. You would be in the Outer Banks for three months; you might as well find a way to kill time. 

“Done,” You announce, pulling back and smiling at your handiwork. As Sarah fluffs through her hair, you ask, “So, I just pick any guy and make him miserable?” 

Sarah spins around at a dizzying speed, her jaw dropping open. “You’re considering it? Like, actually?”  

You give her a sheepish shrug and look to Ruthie for confirmation. 

“No, I get to choose.”

“What, why?” You scoff. 

“Cause you’d choose someone you already know, and those guys have been harboring unrequited crushes on you since you were, like, twelve.” You try not to betray your surprise. Somehow, Ruthie knows more about your life than you want her to. You weren't sure how Ruthie knew this about you, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. 

“Fine,” You huff, flopping down onto your bed. “Who, then?”

Ruthie’s smile is one you could only describe as downright devilish as she leans in, lowering her voice to a lethal whisper. “Who else but Kildare’s biggest fuckboy? JJ Maybank.”

taglist: @rinaarii @kaisgirlie @loophole3 @flourelle @xobeautifulfaith @brooklyn789 @jjscoquette

*if you would like to be removed, pls lmk!

[fartsandprayers]

Dude here is the assignment I posted:

The creative work that I have chosen to give a mini TEDx talk today is the Horizon series video games. This is limited as of right now to 2 main games, Horizon Zero Dawn and Horizon Forbidden West with a third installation currently in production. Each game has an additional story that can be purchased and downloaded, Horizon Zero Dawn: Frozen Wilds and Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores. All 4 of these are connected in one plotline, each DLC being a segway into the next game (there is an additional VR game that has nothing to do with the plot, and also a Lego Adventures spin off that is quite fun, but again no additional plot). This is not a widespread media, so I need to dive deep for a minute to explain the series.

The Horizon series is an open world dystopian game that explores the western half of America 1,000 years in the future. The narrative is through the classic coming of age trope through 19-year-old Aloy, who is trying to find who her mother is. What starts off as a predictable story line comes screeching to a halt midway through the game and suddenly Aloy is the only hope for human life to continue on earth. The discoveries she makes turn her world upside down, almost literally, and in a race against the clock she gathers allies to fight a rouge AI who wants nothing more than humans wiped off the face of the planet.

And that’s just the first game. I won’t go on and on, I’ll probably be docked points if I do. But that gives you an idea as to what this is about.

I chose this work because since the first game released in 2017 I have been obsessed with this series. It had become a catalyst for me for so many things. I did my first advanced cosplay as Aloy, which made me learn new skills in order to make her outfit and bow. I’ve written and read so many fan works from this series, also seen a lot of fanart. I’ve joined communities, taken part in gifting fanfics, exchanged cosplay tips, made friends, all because of this series. And now I want to help create AI systems and video games inspired by this series, hence why I’m even here in the first place-to get my degree! How could I not choose it?

Aloy herself is an interesting character study. She is driven, brave, sarcastic, authentically herself and genuinely kind. We watch her experience several stages of grief and depths joy which adds to the complexity of her character.

I have over 800 hours clocked in with all 4 games total, yet there is something new each time I play. The world building of this game is incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever see it all. There is so much in the story that connects to the humanities, I could go on for hours. This work is definitely one for the books.

References

Guerrilla Games. (2017). Horizon Zero Dawn. [PlayStation 4]. Sony Interactive Entertainment.

Guerrilla Games. (2022). Horizon Forbidden West. [PlayStation 5]. Sony Interactive Entertainment.

Horizon Zero Dawn is the first game I've played where I feel like the main character is actually as interested in learning about the world as I am. Aloy reads the flavor text.

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm Late But Who Cares?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2025 Week 5

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Oh no my babies are in trouble! I actually don’t mind the coming out being part of the conflict, it’s rare to see these days, but it was more common in early BL. This show feels like such a throwback Thai BL anyway, that it’s sort of goes with the story. Of course it was conflict that was resolved almost immediately. But honestly I’m so charmed by the show I don’t mind any of this.

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 8 of 12 - still enjoying but annoyed by Jun. I’m glad everybody’s feelings have been made clear, Iun is too much a little shit for the way he went about it. The hand holding was very cute tho. 

Truer words! When a character reveals the entire plot of a show.

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - Phu’s friends are the best. I love them so much. Still cautiously enjoying this.

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - Why are Kant’s pants always too short in this show? Meanwhile, the plot progresses as expected. But it’s OK. I’m enjoying it enough. I like that Kant, who is slightly evil, is willing to go even more evil for the man he loves. It was a twist I was not expecting. I believe it less with Style. Oh my, have we turned into a caper all of a sudden? Huh. This was a good episode. But then I do like a caper.

I’m also gonna mention briefly that I see you Heart Killers for using old tropes in a new way. The bleacher shot (Lovesick callback), the empty pool. Very very clever.

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 17 end - Nice solid ending I remain more interested in the couples we never got but i hope we get a season 2. 

Conclusion

A standard university Thai BL centering around two couples (med student meets engineering youth) in two parts (chasing the forever dragon that is 2 Moons). This was watchable but not much more than that with nice optics. Best if you can get hold of the extended (sexy) version especially for the second couple. 8/10 

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 14 of 24 - Wine is totally getting the "good one." Faifa (hands-down my favorite character in the series) is the master of the sarcastic ja particle. He’s very clever with it. Pay attention if particles in Thai interest you. I don’t understand why Yotha it’s so special that everybody’s willing to cater to his erratic whims.

(Am I the only one who thinks that Book and Santa should lead a BL together?)

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - This is such an odd show. But it was a very nice kiss. And more.  And I love the boy admiring his marks after. Nice touch.

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 2 or 10 - everyone behaves like a complete idiot and it’s driving me nuts.

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 4 of 12 - I dislike most of the characters in this show, but I truly loathe the daughter character.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - I continue to enjoy this more every week, and I’m really looking forward to next week. (Shocker.)

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 8 of 12 - no ep this week, Happy New Year! 

Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki) eps 4 of 9 - It’s modestly enjoyable but of all the relationships I think I like the brothers the best. I mostly have a smile on my face when I watch it, but so far it’s eminently forgettable. To the point where I occasionally forget to watch it when it airs. That said it looks like next week we’re getting very Taiwanese. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 17 of ?? - sigh

It's airing but......

I Will Turn Back Time (China Gaga) 6 eps - It’s Chinese, no idea if it will end well or not. But it’s the stepbrothers trope. Still, I’m not gonna watch it until it’s done.

In Case You Missed it

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai) - It's done. Spies reported in the following: Not recommend. "Lots of awkward silence and muddled story. Abrupt ending. Doesn't lean into either the romance or the prison aspect." So yeah, I'm leaving it a DNF.

End of year wraps are here!

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

*** Yeah we already in it and my calendar is a complete mess, so no visual for you. ***

On now: FC Soldout (Korea iQIYI) 8eps - sports BL, football player meets actor.

2/14 Exclusive Love (Taiwan Gaga) - Shy aspiring singer inherits funeral business.

2/27 Secret Relationships (Korea iQIYI) - Stars Wei's Kim Jun Seo. Adapted by Cradle Studio (Kakao). About clever and resourceful Daon who has worked hard to overcome being poor. His cheap ways annoy his coworker, Sunghyeon but after “an incident” with his parents, Daon grows closer to him. But Daon also has feelings for his former tutor. This has the signs of a classic Kdrama all over it: Office setting, love triangle, lead suffering for his self-actualization. I’m optimistic about a longer treatment.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Best line in BL history? Possibly

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[earth4angels]

THE STAGES OF THE LOVE THEORY ────────────── 𓇼 MAIN MASTERLIST

𓇼 CHARACTERS: jacaerys velaryon x reader 𓇼TAGS: rom-com, slight angst, romance, fluff, passionate sex, lots of sex, awkward, timid, smart-mouthed, experienced jace, agent jace, strangers to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers au. experienced reader. he falls first and hard af, a stubborn reader who denies love, jace is a sweetheart. switch! jace, soft!dom jace! slow burn. miscommunications, mixed signals, slightly aged characters. (... tags will be updated as chapters upload)

SOULS DO NOT MEET IN ACCIDENT ────────

WHEN your older brother decided to announce his marriage to his high school sweetheart, you were in disbelief. Cregan dated with his heart on his sleeve yet never settled. His relationship with Aly, your soon-to-be sister-in-law was off-and-on. You enjoyed freedom. You loved your independence, and love... was something you did not believe in, it was an idea. Hence, you enjoyed connections that led to nothing, it worked for you, and the idea of physical connections was enough. To get what you wanted was never an issue, you were bold, and straightforward until you met a man at the engagement party, so unbelievably godly, his eyes tilting your world all the way upside down, and you almost tripped over your own feet. It was he who caused a series of events that left you grasping for anything to hold you on the ground as you continued to question if love was in fact real.

WELCOME TO... THE STAGES OF THE LOVE THEORY chapters ──── schedules tba.

— nattie speaks: she’s baaaaack. this time with a new story (yea cosmic dancer is alive, don’t worry it’s not abandoned i just began typing chapters to this new idea i got from watching my silly chick flick movies during a mid fire to get me out of my anxiety, fear, and here we are) treat this story as a silly rom com, the dialogue is very cliche. reader aka you, will have you fighting with yourself lmao trust, it’s a slow burn. so expect some heavy miscommunications and drama. this is a friends with benefits to lovers au, so yea. there’s that. she comes up with the idea and poor baby naive jace agrees with it (he’s attracted to her) anyways. this story will be posted on ao3

[tetsuswaifu]

Slap Ass Friday (Haikyuu! x Reader) - Pt. 2

a/n: had to continue this series with some of my other faves. there's an explanation to this idea in my author notes in part 1 if you haven't already read. masterlist still currently in the works, currently trying to post every sunday

word count: 1223

likes, reblogs, replies, and requests are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

warnings: suggestive content, spanking

Part 1, Part 2

・❥・Miya Atsumu ・❥・

The sharp squeak of sneakers against the gym floor grew louder as you stepped inside, each stride bringing you closer to the volleyball court, minding your own business. Out of nowhere, a sharp smack stung your backside, making you yelp in surprise. Whipping around, you found your boyfriend, Atsumu, standing a few feet away, hands on his hips and a wide, toothy grin stretched across his face.

"Miya Atsumu!" you barked, glaring daggers at him as your face burned. Your face twitched slightly as you tried to hold back the smile threatening to creep in.

"Relax, darlin'!'' he said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. "It's slap ass Friday! I can't not participate in the tradition, especially if my girlfriend is caked up like the baddie she is," he winked.

"That is not an excuse!" you snapped, now smiling as you marched toward him.

"C'mon, it was just a lil' tap!" he teased, laughing as he sidestepped your attempt to hit his ass back. "Ain't my fault ya got such a smackable—"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll make sure you don't forget what Friday's are all about," you warned, cutting him off.

Atsumu laughed even harder, backing up as you lunged at him. "Yer cute when yer mad, ya know that?" he called over his shoulder, making a quick retreat toward the entrance of the court.

"Get back here, you coward!"

"Catch me if ya can, babe!" he shouted, jogging away with that infuriating grin plastered on his face, fully enjoying the chase.

You eventually gave up after running up and down the court a few times, panting as he doubled over in laughter. "I hate you," you muttered in between breaths, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

"Ya love me," winking again with a wide smile, still completely unrepentant.

・❥・Miya Osamu ・❥・

You were halfway through rearranging your books in your locker when you felt a sharp, unexpected slap on your butt. Spinning around as you held rear end, you found Osamu standing there, munching on a rice ball with his free hand, looking infuriatingly calm.

"Osamu!" you whisper-yelled, your eyes wide as you looked around if anyone else saw. Luckily, no one even had batted an eye.

He glanced at you with a casual raise of his brow, chewing thoughtfully. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me! Did you just—"

"It's Friday," he interrupted, as if that explained everything.

You blinked, your jaw dropping slightly. "That doesn't give you the right to—"

"It's slap ass Friday," he clarified, his tone deadpan, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips gave him away. "Tradition."

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. "Unbelievable."

Osamu leaned against the lockers beside you, leaning towards you, watching your reaction with quiet amusement. "You're not that mad though, are ya?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't push your luck, 'Samu," you muttered, though your cheeks burned at his smirk.

He let out a quiet chuckle, his voice dipping even lower as he leaned in more, mere centimeters from your lips. "Guess I'll be seein' ya next Friday."

・❥・Iwaizumi Hajime ・❥・

You were lazily scrolling through your phone while walking to your next period, completely oblivious to the sharp-eyed boy trailing behind you.

Iwaizumi had been watching you from a few paces back, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. It was Friday after all, and he had an opportunity too perfect to pass up.

Just as you rounded the corner near the lockers, you felt it: a sudden spank on your butt that had you freezing mid-step. The sting barely registered before you spun around, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and indignation.

He stood frozen a few feet away, his hand still raised as if caught in the act. His smirk immediately gave way to panic as he saw the fire in your eyes. "W-what? It's slap ass Friday babe!" he blurted out, already stepping back defensively.

"Excuse me?!" you huffed, crossing your arms. "What makes you think you get a free pass to do that?!"

He groaned, his free hand shooting to the back of his neck as he avoided your glare. "You literally said it was fine last time," he muttered under his breath, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. "I said it was fine with a warning! Not—" You gestured to wildly at him, "—this ambush!"

"Well, sorry for making it fun," he quipped, but the redness in his face betrayed the cool exterior he was trying to maintain.

"You're impossible." You let out an exasperated sigh, but the corner twitched upward in amusement. He looked like a puppy that had just been scolded for chewing up your shoes.

"Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Next time, you'll get a heads up."

"I'll believe it when I see it," you retorted, brushing past him, though the faint smile on your face gave away that you weren't entirely mad.

The following week, you were standing with a group of friends, distracted by conversation. Iwaizumi slid into the seat next to you, casual as ever, but leaned in closer than usual. You turned your head, confused, only for him to murmur two words that sent you into fight-or-flight mode:

"Brace yourself."

"What—"

Before you could finish the question, he was already jogging off, throwing you a grin over his shoulder as you yelled his name loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear.

It was a game to him now. And while you hated to admit it, you didn't really mind being the target.

・❥・Oikawa Tōru ・❥・

You had just stepped out into the courtyard when you heard someone shout, "Y/N-chan! Watch out!"

Before you could even process the warning, a loud slap echoed across the yard. You gasped at the fiery sting on your ass and turned around to see your boyfriend standing a few feet away, grinning like he’d just won a trophy.

"Tōru!" you shouted, your face burning as a few students nearby snickered.

"Babe, it's slap ass Friday you know!" he said dramatically, pointing at you like he'd just revealed some universal truth.

"Who even made up this stupid rule?!" you shot back, taking a step toward him, your glare promising revenge.

"You're wasting time yelling when you should be chasing me!" he teased, already jogging backward with that signature smirk plastered on his face.

"Come back here, you absolute ass!" you yelled, immediately taking off after him. He darted through the crowd with skillful footwork, weaving between classmates and laughing loudly every time you got close.

When you finally cornered him near the vending machines, you were panting and fuming. Oikawa held up his hands in surrender, still smirking. "Alright, alright, I admit it—I deserved to be chased. But you can't deny that was a perfect hit."

"Oh, I can deny it," you huffed, reaching out to smack his shoulder. He dodged at the last second, laughing as you glared at him.

"Don't be mad, Y/N-chan," he said, leaning in with an overly sweet smile. "It's all in good fun, right?"

"You're lucky I don't trip you next time, Tōru," you muttered, though a small grin tugged at your lips.

"Next time?" he echoed, grinning wider. "Does that mean you're already looking forward to next Friday?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

tetsuswaifu © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to @tetsuswaifu

[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

PARAPET

blurb: some might say parapet is the beginning of a riders life. it certainly was for you. the beginning of your new life. the beginning of your friendship. the beginning of everything surrounding him.

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey guys! so this is sort of a continuation of FORGED UNDER FIRE. this will be a little series where i'll go back and forth on brennan and reader's love story. for this one i wanted to go way back to the beginning.

i finished onyx storm last week and felt really motivated to keep writing for brennan. don't worry there won't be any spoilers for onyx storm as of now. if there is later on i'll add it somewhere in here.

i hope you enjoy! let me know if there a moment in their story you'd like me to write about or if you want me to just get on with reader finding out he's alive! thank you for reading!

It's strange to watch families coming together from all the corners of the Continent. They gather to say farewell to their children while they embark on their journey at Basgiath's War College. Mothers hug their sons, fathers hold their daughter's hands tightly, afraid they'll suddenly vanish, and siblings pretend everything will be okay while they're gone.

The interactions are foreign to you, a result of your parent's abandoning you at a young age. They were too young for a child, too immature, and not prepared in the slightest. They saw their progeny as a hindrance, so they dropped you off at an old relative's house and forgot about you as if you were a mere pet.

Perhaps if you had a family, the rider's quadrant wouldn't have been your choice, but being all alone and dirt poor gives you the freedom to put your life at risk without consequence. The rider's quadrant is the perfect place to make a name for yourself. That is all you desire. You're doing this for yourself, no one else. If you die in the process, then it will make no difference in the world. No one will notice. No one will miss you.

When the clock chimes and the gates open, you turn your back to the strange sight and walk towards the entrance where the rider's quadrant is welcoming candidates. There's only a handful of candidates in front of you, giving their names to the cadets stationed at the entrance to the tall tower. Some hide their fear better than others.

Gripping the straps of your backpack, which holds your few possessions, tightly, you tell the short-haired woman your name and start climbing the stairs. Your body has a mind of its own as it ignores the fluttering of your stomach when you look down the spiraling staircase. It keeps pushing forward, leading you to the top, where about five more cadets wait for this year's candidates. The patches on their arms identify what year they belong to.

The first candidate has begun to cross the parapet; confidently, he spreads his arms to keep his balance and strides forward, quickly and efficiently. The sight of the infamous parapet leaves your mouth dry and your heart fluttering. It's much more daunting to be in its presence than to hear about it through others.

The rain that fell from the sky yesterday has vanished under the intense heat from the sun. It's an advantage you're grateful for as you mutter a quick prayer to Zihnal. The gods have led you to this point and will continue to help you survive.

The parapet is just that, the parapet. It has not changed since established, and while built to be a challenge, it is not impossible to cross. Thousands of riders have done it, and you will, too. The challenge lies inside of you. You must not let your fear take over, or it will all be over in an instant.

A soft yet masculine laugh behind you takes you out of your trance, yet you remain focused forward. It's the only way to go. This is your future. You have to make it and prove everyone wrong.

"What's your name, candidate?" Another cadet questions once more, barely sparing you a glance as he scribbles down your name. He steps aside and gestures towards the opening leading to the parapet. "Ready or not, it's your turn. Good luck."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Opening them, you begin your journey; the first couple of feet are easy, being caged in by the walls of the turret. When your body leaves the protective walls, the wind quickly envelops you. No matter the weather, the wind will always be an enemy this high up. There are no buildings shielding the parapet from the ruthless currents.

Your eyes solely focus on the end as your feet carry you further down the stone pathway. Each step is calculated as you lift your foot and ground it until reaching a steady spot. Your body is taught to resist the wind, and while you have blocked off any fear, your hands shake involuntarily.

"Just breathe," you mutter, looking forward and pretending you're in a passing town, walking along the roof of the low buildings you used to train for this moment. You fell numerous times, but each fall was a lesson, and you will not fall again.

Step after step, you near your goal. At times, spreading your arms when a harsh gust of wind threatens to push you over the edge. You're two-thirds of the way to the end when you take a step, and the mortar under your foot crumbles and loosens a stone. Your ankle tips at the disturbance, and you lower your body to kneel on the parapet to prevent from falling. First, you see your hands holding tightly, and then your eyes focus on the river flowing 200 feet under you.

You let out a whimper, and your steady heart begins to beat erratically. The world around you distorts as it takes into account the height you're currently at. Your hands aren't the only part of you shaking anymore, and what little breakfast you had threatens to come up.

"Shit," your voice trembles when your body refuses to respond. "Get up!"

Standing takes you long enough that the person behind you catches up to you. The problem is that your focus has been tampered and the world remains tilted as you try to step forward.

"Hey, you're okay. Keep looking forward. You're doing great so far," a gentle voice says behind you. The initiate is six feet away, giving you your space to continue.

"I can't move," your teeth chatter. You hope the wind dampens the fear laced in your voice. You refuse to be seen as weak this early on.

"Yes, you can. You were just moving minutes ago. Keep your arms out and put one foot in front of the other, looking forward." He's closer now, and maybe it's your imagination, but the wind stills for long enough that you take tentative steps. You breathe out in relief when your ankle holds your weight and is not in pain.

Regaining your confidence, you quicken your steps, your bag softly bouncing on your back. The sun beams down on you, causing your forehead to accumulate with sweat, and you're glad your jacket is stuffed in your bag.

The initiate behind you follows you quietly. For each step you take, he takes one as well; he doesn't rush you or speak anymore.

"Almost there," you tell yourself, steadying yourself. Don't rush, rushing leads to mistakes.

Surrounded once more by stone, you run the last ten feet, your knees buckling when you officially make it off the parapet. A cadet holds your elbow, keeping you up as they ask your name one last time. "Congratulations, Cadet!"

The title makes you smile widely as you suck up the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Fuck, you made it past parapet, potentially the most deadly task of becoming a rider. One step closer to your goal.

The candidate behind you makes it to solid ground, and the Cadets around you opt to give him their attention with one last word to make your way to the courtyard. They clearly know him because they pat his back and talk with a sense of familiarity you're not accustomed to.

"Hey, wait up!" The same voice calls when you walk away. You would continue walking, but thanks to him, you managed to get your shit together, so you stop and turn, staring at him with curiosity.

He flashes you a bright smile when you stop, catching up to you and extending his hand, "I'm Brennan."

You take him in properly for the first time. His hair looks reddish under the bright sun, and it curls as it falls over his forehead, framing the most amazing amber-colored eyes. He has fair skin, and if you focus enough, you can see freckles scattered across his face. He's also much taller than you, with well-built muscles hidden under his clothes. He definitely has rider parents. It explains the confidence and ease he carries with him.

You take his hand, shaking it firmly as you tell him your name. "I guess I should thank you for helping me back there," you say, albeit reluctantly.

"You were impressive out there. I wanted to see you finish it," He says with a shrug. Brennan was impressed by your performance on the parapet. You were quick, never allowing the wind to stop you for more than a couple of seconds. That was until the stone on the parapet loosened and tripped you. "Besides, watching someone plummet 200 feet into the river would be very distracting."

Your lips betray you as they curl up at the ends into a smile, and Brennan takes it as a victory. Previous to him talking to you, there was barely a trace of emotion on your face. He'd been watching closely. "Fair enough, I wouldn't want my screams to distract you."

He'd say you were distracting him from the moment he saw you. "I figure we'll all be screaming on Threshing when we bond with a dragon. Can't promise I won't scream then," he jokes, wanting to see you smile again.

Before you can respond, a group calls after him, waving enthusiastically. "Brennan!" They keep calling, hollering, and whistling.

"Your friends are calling you," you say, pointing behind him.

"Guess they are," he nods, giving her a tight-lipped smile. He wants to stay and talk to you some more. "I'll see you around?"

"Maybe."

The universe works in funny ways as hours later, you are placed in the same wing, same section, and same squad as him. He waves at you when you approach the small group, giving you a grin. For the next year, Brennan will be everywhere, and you might open up enough to make a friend out of him, maybe even more.

Not that you'd let yourself have him that easily.

thank you for reading! i know it's short and there wasn't much of them interacting but i wanted to give reader a little back story!

so i kinda tagged everyone who commented, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed or if you'd like to be added for future parts ❤️ tags: @berry-marys @cherubinn7 @ladynyx91 @kylaisra @detectivehailey @liahaslosthermind @thebreadisthetruevillian @bbkissme99 @honethatty12 @sunny1616

[zewik7]

Any advice for aspiring death feedees who are hesitant about going for it?

Yup!

Make sure you have a life partner who isn’t hesitant like you and who actually knows what they’re signing up for: the cleaning, the tending, the caring are the other face of the coin when it comes to death feedism! They haven’t to be a feeder… an enabler, sometimes, suffices as good 👀

When you are sure of this partner… don’t stress about numbers. You do not have to care about reaching X lbs before a certain date or anything like that… you aren’t in “Chicken Run”! (What a great sexy movie, tho)

Just relax, eat and spend time around lazy and cozy hobbies, such as: videogames, watching movies/tv series, knitting, crocheting, reading, writing, drawing… the time will pass. Don’t forget to nap when you feel tired or sleepy, and eat if you’re bored!

You will soon forget what’s a vegetable and how it’s built… when you’ll see lettuce in your burger you’ll squirm away because if it’s not tinted glaze, that’s a pretty unnatural hue to see food in! 😌

Okay, seriously now: the thing that made me go for it was the pandemic.

In 2020 I still worked as a OSS (healthcare assistant) in both public and private structures. When people were not intubated because of covid complications, all they ranted about was not doing more things they loved and wasting all their time in jobs o with people they didn’t like and/or hated. That, and not telling enough they loved people to those concerned.

I left my job as OSS not a lot after, and I finally realized that i didn’t want to live this fetish, these kinks and this community half-assing it like i did until then.

Even when i left the feederism community in 2022 (after a severe burnout from it), i continued gaining weight and living it to my best.

I love being fat and i absolutely love being fattened up to death. I don’t want to put limits to myself just because i’m afraid of consequences of my actions. I want to embrace those consequences. Death is not the end… death is just the orgasm of a full lived life, in my case. 🐷♥️

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty: And Then There Was You

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Nineteen ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You learn more about James's former pining, realizing there is less to fear than you initially thought.

Word Count: 5.6k

Notes: Chapter twenty, woop woop! Did not think this fic would ever get this long, but here we are! Thank you all so much for sticking with me so far <3

Three fifteen in the afternoon couldn’t come soon enough. 

It was overcast, though the weather was warming ever so slowly as spring deepened. You were loitering near the wall boarding the vegetable path, the one you once sat against, crying in the rain after your fight with James. You had almost forgotten about it until now, the memory feeling like old news, as if it had happened years ago. So much had gone on since, so much to replace it. You hadn’t known it then, caught up in the idea that there was no way James could ever like you, but you each had nearly stumbled upon the other's secret. You had missed it by a hair, blinded by your insecurity, him by his immaturity. You knew now that he had been telling the truth, that he was worried you would be embarrassed, that through Mulciber’s words too much of himself would be given away, tainting an otherwise flowering friendship. 

“I think I thought it’d embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. I know I should’ve just gotten over it, but…”

“You thought I’d be embarrassed. Give me a break.”

“Yeah, I did. And then after what you said last night—”

“Last night you acted like a child.” 

“I don’t know why I said that.” 

You shook the thought from your head, turning towards the grass, bright and emerald even under the clouds. The bell tower rang, marking the end of the period. Right now Slughorn was watching his class pack up their things, his wand waving in the air to clean the cauldrons as James hurried out. You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed as you impatiently waited for him to arrive, your fingers buzzing. 

Five minutes later you heard a noise, a small rustle of the grass in the distance. You searched but found no one there, only a stray squirrel scurrying across the lawn. Just as you wrote it off it happened again, the sound distinctly footsteps through the grass. You perked up, kicking off the wall as you reached for your wand. 

“Psst!”

You whipped your wand from your pocket, spinning around to try and pinpoint where the voice had come from. “Hello?”

“It's me!”

You jumped, the sound coming right from behind you. You swung your arm to point your wand, though your hand hit something hard…and invisible. You dropped your hand, now more annoyed than anything. 

“James,” you gritted, your eyes hard as you started into the empty space.

“Sorry, babe. Just taking precautions.” You could practically hear his smile, charming even if you couldn’t see it. 

“I don’t think Lily will see us here, or anyone else, for that matter,” you whispered, your expression having softened. It was sweet, you realized, even if he was a bit ridiculous.

“It’s not just that. Mulciber could be hanging around, or that slime ball.”

“Slime ball?”

“He did try to poison you,” he argued. 

“Why couldn’t we have gone to the RoR?” you asked, your eyes bouncing around, hoping you were landing somewhere near his face.

“They know where it is. Can’t have Sirius barging in,” he said, continuing before you could counter, “C’mon, lets go.”

“Where?”

“Over past the hill. You’d have to be at least on the sixth floor to see over it, and even then, you’d never be able to tell it was us.”

“All right,” you said, warily. “Just don’t let me bump into you.” 

You walked out farther from the castle, stopping once you were over the hill as you waited for him to take off the cloak. 

In a moment James pulled the cloak from himself, his hair mused and glasses crooked. He straightened them, loosening his tie before he balled up the cloak, shoving it into his charmed pocket. 

“Everyone had charmed pockets but me,” you said with a frown.

“It’s illegal, y’know,” he teased, plopping down onto the grass. “Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble.”

His smile was like the sun as he looked up at you, his head motioning towards the spot beside him. As soon as you sat, shaking your head as you went to argue, you were cut short. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you down so he could look into your eyes. It was like he was dipping you, reminding you of all the times you’ve danced, how he always seemed to find a way to get you to succumb to his pleas. You smiled, practically beaming as he held you. 

“I’ve never told you before, because I couldn’t,” you began, forcing yourself out of old habits of biting your tongue, “but I always liked when you danced with me.”

“Yeah?” he said, his hand moving up your arm and over your shoulder mindlessly. “Where’d this come from?”

“I don’t know,” you lied. It still felt odd to say such things to him, as if you had a reason to be embarrassed. I’m his girl, you recalled. I’m his and he’s mine. “I was just thinking about all the things I wanted to tell you before, but didn’t.”

His hand stopped moving, settling on your elbow. “I have a million of those.” 

You propped yourself up, the grass tickling your ankles as you grew nearer. With an unusual burst of confidence, you brushed your nose against his, smirking as you felt his breath catch in his throat. In a split second he leaned forward, pulling you into his chest, your lips meeting, smooth like the small waves of the Black Lake lapping against the shore. Still, you had a million questions to ask, years worth of moments that needed revisiting. As you pulled away he brushed the side of your face, staring into your eyes. 

“Tell me one,” you said, your faces still close. When he didn’t answer, your smirk grew playful, more like his than yours. “I told you one, it’s only fair.”

“That's not true. I told you one yesterday, about when you asked to do your project on Sleekeazy's.” 

“It’s still your turn,” you challenged, watching as he caved to your will, his head lulling to the side. 

He picked his head back up, his hand burning up where it still stroked your temple. “Old or new?”

“Dealer's choice.”

His eyes turned up towards the sky as he thought, the clouds reflected in his glasses. “Remember when Padfoot locked himself into Myrtle's bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you laughed. “That was one of the best days of my life.”

This September they had been planning a prank in which they would somehow herd Severus into Myrtle's bathroom, only to have the door lock behind him with a particularly effective charm. It had taken days to perfect the spell and a great degree of careful planning to figure out how they were going to accomplish the feat, only for the door to close by accident, Sirius inside. Remus eventually broke him out, though Sirius was stuck for hours, forced to listen to Myrtle's endless whining and flirtatious advances. 

“When we were all huddled around the door listening to him bitch, we were right next to each other and I put my arm around your shoulder. I felt pretty sly at the time,” as he spoke he grew more and more smug, looking at you as if he had won some imaginary game with rules only he knew. 

You hit his arm, scowling at him without really meaning it. “Really?”

“Yes, and now it’s your turn. Diviner’s choice.”

“Very clever,” you droned, though you were unable to bite back your smile, peeking out on the corner of your lips. You thought about it for a moment, though you already knew what you were going to say. “That very corny speech you gave in the RoR to try and cheer me up. It’s like you were trying to kill me.”

He laughed, calm in a way you almost never were. “Now you know what it’s like looking at you everyday. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten up onto the table in the Great Hall to serenade you.”

“Please don’t,” you begged, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. You felt him vibrate as he laughed more, his hand forcing your head up again. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he said, his head tilting as he looked across your face. His eyes softened, his smile dropping into something saccharine, sickening if you weren’t in love. “I’m so mad for you, Y/N, you don’t even know.”

You wondered how you could take it, listening to him speak to you this way without letting yourself slip up in public, knowing how he felt without ever being able to show it. You leaned in to kiss him again, your fingers in his hair, suspended by the feeling of him against you. With every beat of your heart you heard his voice, fluttering through the air like petals. You don’t even know, you don’t even know, you don’t even know.

 ─────────•°•❀•°•─────────

“What is up with you lately?”

You jumped, your head shooting to look at Marlene. The dungeons were dimly lit, just enough to shine against her blonde hair. She was staring at you with narrowed eyes, her arms propped on her knees as you both sat on the staircase, waiting for Lily to finish speaking with Professor Slughorn in his office. Why she couldn’t wait until she had his class, you and Marlene could never say. 

“Nothing,” you said, tensing up when she cocked her head, her mouth moving to the side as he considered you. “Really.”

“You’ve been spacey, more than usual,” she said plainly, raising her brows. 

You clenched your jaw, too nervous to comment on her characterization of you, which any other time you would’ve found mildly insulting. “I’m just stressed about the N.E.W.T.s.”

You had been studying more lately, spending much of Wednesday going over advanced Astronomy notes, staying in the tower for hours that evening for your weekly observations. Despite this, Marlene was still staring at you, dubious and calculating. After a beat her eyes widened, scaring you more than you’d like to admit. 

“I know what it is,” she said as if she had some great realization. 

You looked away, your leg bouncing on the step. “Enlighten me, then.”

“What happened this weekend?” she asked, leaning forward to try and catch your eyes. “Did you and him, y’know…?”

You tried to remain expressionless, forcing your gaze to remain forward, though your efforts were in vain. A smile broke out onto her face, her hands coming to squeeze your knees in excitement. 

“No way, no way!”

Somehow, it seemed as though you always ended up here, hoping no one would hear her sequels of glee at every new development in your love life. You sent her a stern look, shushing her as you glanced around the corridor. 

“This is the best day of my life,” she shrieked. Thankfully, her voice dropped down to a whisper, though she was still working to contain her fervor, “Great Godric, this is bloody fantastic!” 

“You have to be quiet,” you scolded, your eyes darting to the office door. This was the last place in the world you wanted to have this conversation. 

Marlene bent down to make herself smaller as if it would conceal her voice, completely giddy. “What happened? What exactly happened?”

“We can’t talk about this here,” you said, your hands pulling unconsciously at your sleeves. “Wait until we’re alone or something—”

“Did you tell him, or did he tell you?” Her eyes were shining with an exuberance you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in her before, her teeth gnawing at her lip. “Did you snog? Please tell me you snogged!”

Knowing she wouldn’t leave you alone unless you partially appeased her, you grumbled, “Yes and yes.”

“You told him or he told you?” she asked hurriedly. 

“I don’t know, maybe both?” you whispered, your cheeks already on fire. “And please, for the love of all things good in the world, keep your voice down.”

You looked back at the door again, though it was still safely closed, for now. 

“So, what did he say? Was it all chivalrous, or did he, like, take you in his arms like the covers of those books Lily always makes fun of—”

“This is a new low, even for you, Marls,” you said, your face dropping. 

Her eyes narrowed as she pointed a finger in your direction. “If you don’t tell me everything, and I mean everything, I am going to be so cross with you— Wait! Does anyone else know?”

“No, and you better not tell anyone, especially Sirius. He’s just settled down with all his crap. I’m not sure how much of it I could take now.”

“Now?” she asked, her voice lifting up in delight. “Are you guys together, like a couple, in secret? That's so romantic— did he ask you to be his girlfriend?”

You let your face fall into your hands with a groan, rubbing at your eyes. It was only Thursday and you had already managed to allow Marlene in on your secret, which was not a good sign. 

“Please, can we wait until later?” you mumbled into your palms. 

You could hear her about to whine, cut short by the office door opening. You looked up, Marlene shooting back to sit up straight again. Lily emerged, none of the wiser to your conversation as she looked over at you.

You stood, glancing down at Marlene with a stern look. She rolled her eyes, standing up as well. 

“Ready?” you asked, turning back to Lily. 

“There's another Slug Club this weekend, so I won’t be around this Saturday night,” she said, following you each up the steps to the ground floor, the cold air of the dungeons replaced by the warmth of the main castle. 

“That's a drag,” Marlene said, kicking an imaginary stone. 

You frowned dramatically towards Lily. “What ever will we do without you?” 

She shoved you with her shoulder, laughing as you stumbled to the side. You laughed along, shooting more daggers at Marlene when she looked at you with an elated, sweet smile. 

“Let's have fun tomorrow, then,” you continued.

“That's if James lets us go out without the you-know-what,” Marlene huffed. “I can’t believe they haven’t found it yet.”

“They’ve been looking almost every night,” Lily whiserped, leaning in towards you and Marlene. “Remus still can’t break that charm on Filch’s office.”

Marlene sighed again, crossing her arms as you walked outside, the ground damp from fresh rain. “This is such bull. I have a bottle of Firewhiskey and everything. If they don’t find it tonight we’re going to the RoR whether James likes it or not.” 

You snorted, knowing there was a row between James and Marlene in the near future. “You can try.”

Marlene smirked, throwing her bag down onto the bench with all the confidence in the world.  “He talks a big game, but we all know who's better at getting their way.”

“No.”

“Come on,” Marlene whined, her fists balled as she stood in front of James. She looked like a spoiled child begging her father for a pony, enough to make you and Dorcas snicker as you watched them from the sofa. James’s cheeks were still ruddy from quidditch, his striped uniform jumper fitted across his arms and chest, all enough to make you want to ogle. He had stayed later than Sirius to help run drills with a second year, much to your chagrin, though you were always happy to see him after practice no matter what time he arrived. 

“No,” James said again, spinning around to walk away from her. 

Marlene followed behind, making another noise of discontent as he flopped down beside you. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”

“She has a point, James,” said Lily, who you had thus far expected to stay out of it. However, it seemed as though her trust in Dumbledore superseded her usual caution. 

James remained unconvinced, looking to the others for help. “You guys agree, don’t you?”

Peter, growing nervous under the scrutiny, nodded.

Sirius was only half paying attention, reading a muggle motor magazine with the dutifulness he should have given to his schoolwork. “Yeah, sure, Prongs.”

Remus only shrugged, peering into the fire. He glanced behind him at Marlene, his mouth tight. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“Nearly three,” she challenged, still holding her ground as she stared back at him. 

Remus sighed, meeting James’s eyes for a moment before looking back to her, almost pleading. “Give us some time to find it.”

“Exactly. We’re not miracle workers, here,” James said, throwing up a hand. 

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”

“Marlene’s right. I think we should,” said Dorcas, leaning forward so she could look at James on the other side of the sofa. “I’ve barely gotten a chance to listen to the radio.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” James said, clearly none too pleased that his friends were slowly succumbing to Marlene’s protests. Still, you didn’t think much would come of it, given how stubborn he could be. 

Dorcas fell back into the sofa with huff, her mouth pulled to the side. “This is such bollocks.”

“Thank you!” Marlene said, motioning to her. “See, James? You’re being completely and utterly—”

“What do you think I should name my bike?” Sirius asked, looking over the top of his magazine. 

“You’re naming your bike?” Marlene asked, her eyes ready to roll into the back of her head. 

He let the magazine drop onto his chest, unfazed by her dismissal. “If you’re not gonna be supportive, I don’t want to hear it.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “We were having a conversation, you know.” 

“I want something cool,” Sirius began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “but not too cool like I’m trying, or anything.”

“Yeah, cause we can’t have anyone thinking that,” Marlene said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, sitting up a bit straighter.  

“Do you have it running yet?” you asked, Marlene shaking her head as Sirius continued to scowl at her from the armchair. 

Remus snorted. “Of course, he doesn’t.”

Sirius, now grumpy, nearly gasped in offense. “What's up with the negativity, you twat. It’s not like I can work on it while we’re here. Besides, it is running. It just can’t fly yet.”

“Where do you have it stored, anyway?” Lily asked. 

“The kitchen,” Sirius answered, as if it was an entirely normal place to keep a motorbike.

Dorcas laughed in disbelief, “The kitchen?”

Sirius shrugged. “Where else am I going to keep it?”

“Why do you need to name it, anyway?” James said, an impish smile playing on his lips. He was only trying to get him going, and it seemed as though it was going to work. 

Sirius looked at him as if it were obvious. “Cause it’s badass.”

“What about Bowie?” Dorcas suggested, surprisingly taking his predicament seriously. “Nothing cooler than him.”

“Aren’t bikes supposed to be girls? Like ships?” Peter asked, glancing around for confirmation.

Lily perked up, her eyes brightening. “Yes. It’s actually pretty interesting. It comes from a superstition regarding goddesses of protection—”

Sirius groaned, slumping further into his chair. “Thanks for getting her going, Wormtail.”

James shook his head, ignoring the impending bickering match as he turned to you. He leaned in a bit closer, your shoulders touching. “Want to practice? We haven’t in a while, don’t want you getting rusty.”

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked, fighting the urge to let yourself fall into him further. 

His smile was enough to convince you of anything, though he gave you an excuse anyway. “It’s only quarter to five.”

You sighed, though it was all show, standing up and looking down at him expectantly. “Come on, then.”

“Where’re you two going?” Sirius asked as James stood, smirking devilishly at the two of you.

You turned to him with a shrug, doing your best show of nonchalance. “To practice, where else?”

“I could think of a few—”

“Don’t you have Arithmancy homework?” James interrupted, doing nothing to hide his growing irritation.

“Fuck off, Prongs. I did it yesterday,” Sirius said, throwing his magazine to the side. 

Marlene let out a single bark of laughter, holding a hand to her mouth as she turned her face away. Everyone looked at her, Lily utterly perplexed as she let out another snort. 

“Lay off the Chocolate Cauldrons, Marls,” Dorcas snapped, halfway between a joke and an insult. 

Everyone grew quiet, even more so than before. Peter’s eyes were wide as they darted this way and that, never settling on anyone in particular. Marlene dropped her hand, quietly clearing her throat as her head bent towards the floor. You remained motionless beside James, your mouth closing and then snapping shut again. 

“We’ll see you guys at dinner,” said James, turning to leave the common room. You hurried to catch up, looking back to see everyone watching as you stepped out. 

“Does she…?” James asked once you were a ways down the corridor, safe from prying ears. 

You nodded solemnly, your face contorting in mild indignity. “Yeah, sorry. She guessed on her own, must’ve seen it on my face. Apparently I’m not exactly good at keeping it from her.

James clicked his tongue, lost in thought. “She won’t say anything if she hasn’t already.”

“That's if she can contain her excitement,” you chuckled, dry and only half sincere. “She’s almost as happy as I am.”

He turned to you as you came upon the wall, a jaunty grin plastered onto his face. “So, you’re happy?”

You shook your head at him, standing to the side as he began to walk back and forth to reveal the entrance. “You think?”

You stood beside him as the door slowly revealed itself, his smile not having left. You were the first to push it open, glancing over your shoulder as he slipped inside behind you. “Wanted to get me alone, did you?”

“Hanging out with you around the others is good and all,” he began, waltzing over to you, “but having to hide it is pretty tiring.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that made you grow warm in the face. 

“Are we really practicing, then?” you asked. “Or is this just some big ploy?”

He smirked. “We probably should. Don’t want you getting rusty.”

You took a step back, his hands dropping for your shoulders. “How boring,” you drawled, making your way across the room. 

“I think you mean studious!”

“I know what I said,” you said, pulling your wand from your pocket. “Bring it, Potter.”

James refused to use any advanced spells on you since you got hurt, sticking to hexes and jinxes that could be easily remedied if you were unable to block them. Still, it was good practice, even if you were only throwing up shields against the Bat Bogey hex. 

It was nearing dinner when you forced him to stop, insisting that he needed to eat after two separate practices. He allowed you to dote on him for a second, soon pestering you to stay just a while longer. 

“Come on, when's the next time we’ll be alone?” 

You looked down at him where he was sitting on the floor, his smile nearly inviting enough to persuade you. You checked your watch, sighing as you saw the time. 

“We only have fifteen minutes. They’ll come looking for us if we stay any longer,” you said, though it didn’t seem to get through to him. 

“We’ll hear them outside the door,” he countered, tapping your ankle with the tip of his shoe. “You’re hurting my feelings, here.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a primadonna.”

His grin only widened, his foot tapping you again. You sighed, sitting down in front of him with the knowledge he would likely tease you over the way you gave in so soon. 

Surprisingly he didn’t, instead throwing himself into your lap, resting his head on your legs with a pleased look. You began to laugh, growing nervous the way you did before Saturday night, before the beginning of your unconventional relationship.  

“What’re you doing?”

He looked up at you, his head lifting a fraction as a hesitance made its way into his expression, once utterly content. “Do you want me to get up?” 

“No,” you said, still giggling, “don’t.”

He smiled, almost boyish beside his cherubic curls, barely contained by his fathers invention. He put his head back down, his hands resting on his stomach as if he were laying on a beach someplace far away, basking in the sunlight. He closed his eyes, his lashes dark against his cheeks. You ran a hand over his hair, your thumb brushing across the tail of his brow. 

“James?” you began, your voice low. “When did you, y’know, really start to fancy me?” 

It felt easier to say at a whisper, like it could hide the glaring hindrance to an otherwise untainted story. You knew he must’ve recognized what you were asking: when did you start to fall out of love with Lily and into love with me? 

He opened his eyes, meeting yours before they drifted away, down to your chin. 

“I don’t really know. It wasn’t all at once,” he said after a moment of silence. “Right before we all went home for Christmas last year it started to feel different with her. Whatever we had had worn off, and when it wasn’t exciting,” he faltered, his head turning to look away, over towards the door. “I guess it just became something we were both doing even if we didn’t really know why.”

“I’m sorry– I,” you stuttered, feeling like you should speak, but not knowing what to say.

“Don’t be.” He sat up, brushing a hand over the side of your neck, his fingers inching up to your ear as if it were a work of art all on its one. “I could see it on her face. The novelty had worn off. Once we came back to school, everything we did pissed each other off. When she said we should break up, it wasn’t hard not to argue.” 

“You don’t have to tell me this. I should’ve asked,” you said softly, shame creeping up on you. 

He shook his head, reaching down to grab your hand, cradling it in his. 

“I want you to know. I want you to know that you have nothing to feel guilty about. You did nothing wrong, Y/N,” he paused, sighing as he held your index finger, moving on to your middle, then your ring, stopping there to gaze at it, to hold it. “I knew I was in trouble when I was back home, ‘cause I kept writing you letters and throwing them into the fireplace before I sent them. Lily and I— it’d take us days to write each other back, but if you had written me, I would’ve sent an owl within the hour. Then…that's when I knew.” He dropped your hand, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that nearly scared you. “Lily and I weren’t right for each other. She knew it and I knew it, and it was just a matter of time before we broke up. Me fancying you, it just made it happen quicker. All you did was save us a few months of arguing.” 

“I’m sorry I always seem to bring her up,” you said, a deep, poignant melancholy making its way into a moment that should’ve been happy, without the burdens of outside forces. Still, you couldn’t help but think of her, your best friend. 

“You didn’t, I did,” he said, his voice laced with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “And don’t say you're sorry. I should be sorry. I was stupid, I was so bloody stupid I’m surprised you’re even in love with me.”

You furrowed your brows, the thought of not loving him almost impossible to conceive. “What d’you mean?”

His gaze grew distant, though not entirely unreachable, foggy around the edges. “I liked the idea of Lily, and I was dumb enough to think that the longer I was with her the more she’d be like the person I made her out to be in my mind. But she wasn’t,” he spoke slowly, sure in every word he said. His eyes met yours again, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “She was Lily, who’s fantastic, but she's not the girl I fell in love with. For a while I thought I did– thought I fell in love with her— but I was just kidding myself. I had no fucking idea what love was,” his words burst from him in the same way he sat with bated breath during a quidditch match, screaming at the top of his lungs when his team scored. You saw in his eyes only earnestness, the image of a young man taken up in something bigger than himself. 

Suddenly, his shoulders relaxed, licking his lips as he looked at you fondly. “And then there was you. And I know I’m in love with you, because if I’m not, then no one has ever been in love before.”

You stared back at him, a small part of your insecurities fading into the background where they could live with your old self, the one who didn’t know James as you knew him now. He continued to surprise you, even though you should’ve been used to the way he spoke so fervently. Sometimes his words stumbled from him onto unsteady ground, imperfect and lacking some finer complexities, though now was not one of those times. You knew precisely what he meant, and it made you want to cry. 

“James,” you said, no more than a whisper, your eyes growing glassy. “I don’t know what to say— I never know what to say.”

He touched your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I do,” you began, reaching up to hold his wrist. “You can’t just say all of that and then expect me not to have anything to say back.”

“Yes I can,” he said, shaking his head. “I fucked up before, and I’m gonna make sure I don’t fuck it up again. I’ll tell you everything that happened with me and her, everything I ever thought about you, the whole thing. And maybe one day, whenever you feel like it, you can tell me everything that happened before Saturday. But I’m not gonna ask, ‘cause you don’t have to. Never feel like you have to.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your grip tightened on his wrist, rushing forward to kiss him. His hand remained on your face, rubbing at your cheek, cradling your jaw as you pushed at the sleeve of his jumper. Your head felt light the way it did when you chain smoked after a party, when everything you touched felt realer, more alive than the living. 

“Thank you,” you said, only inches away from his mouth. You were breathless, pecking him once before speaking again, “I want to— tell you, I mean.”

His eyes were blown out under his glasses, his lips daringly pink. “What do you want to tell me?” he asked, speaking much the same. 

“I don’t know, just something.” You laughed a bit, brushing some hair off his forehead. You thought of everything that came before, back to the very beginning. “Before we were friends, before I really knew you, I didn’t really like you.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel good?” he chuckled. 

“No— well, yeah, I guess. It’s just that you were so charming. Everyone seemed to love you, even the professors, even though you were a giant pain in the arse.” 

James pushed your shoulder lightly, breaking your confession with a laugh. You did the same, trying to push down your nerves enough to continue. 

“You just seemed to shine,” you said, swallowing some lingering uncertainty, “like this ray of light that forced you to look. But I thought it was all on purpose, that you were charming on purpose, and maybe if I looked hard enough I could see through your act. But after we started to become friends, it was blinding, you were blinding, because I knew that it was real,” you stopped, realizing that what you were saying was mildly insulting. You looked at James, though he didn’t seem offended. On the contrary, he was staring at you in a strange sort of amazement, as if you had described something otherwise indescribable.

“When I knew you, really knew you, I finally understood why everyone loved you. I fought against it for a long time, because I knew once I was in, I was never getting out. I couldn’t help it, and it started to eat me up inside. I don’t really remember exactly, but by last Christmas it was stressing me out, because I knew I had a crush on my friend's boyfriend. I thought that maybe it would go away, but it never did. It wasn’t until a month ago that I realized I loved you, or at least admitted it to myself.”

“Don’t give me a big head,” he said, slowly breaking out into a grin. 

“It’s too late for that,” you teased, happy when he kissed you again, just once. 

“I have you beat, though,” he said, pulling away. You only looked at him with furrowed brows, completely confused. “I wrote you a letter on Halloween when I was absolutely pissed. It said ‘I’m in love with you, I’m sorry,’” he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wish I had kept it, would’ve been funny to have now.”

“That long?” you asked, your heart leaping. 

“What can I say? You’re easy to love.”

 ─────────•°•❀•°•─────────

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

[v3nusxsky]

Showing you the ropes

*authors note~ so this one is living in my head rent free and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t gonna post it but @dingdongthetail told me I should. Do you all want a series’s?*

Trigger warnings~ nothing?

Prompt ~ none? my current life?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the longest time you knew this job was your true calling. Starting your teacher training degree was everything you spent years working towards and now you were half way through the program. Your placement was the one and only Nevermore. You’d head so many things about Nevermore from your peers in the university of Jericho but nothing ever good. Or was then that moving two hours from your home town sounded like a bad idea. Of course they placed you in Nevermore knowing you don’t have much local knowledge yet. Days leading up to your time at Nevermore you spent wondering if what you had heard was true. How would this seven week block go?

The first thing you noted was you happened to have older students for your classes. The teachers seemed to be nice enough, possibly even afraid of you. The students seemed shocked at your appearance in their classrooms. Some challenged you instantly, others stuck to you like glue. It’s all pretty text book. Until it’s not.

Your first Friday there was when you realised how challenging this career is. Finding yourself in the headmistress’s office due to a students ability accidentally causing harm to another teacher and you being a witness to the scene. You’d already filled the paperwork out yet apparently you seemed to have botched the form. Would the principal be mad? Would you lose your teaching placement? What if you did something terribly wrong and she wanted to yell at you? The anxious thoughts continued to swirl round your mind as you waited for the striking woman to speak to you.

“Don’t look so nervous dear, you aren’t in any trouble” Larissa reassured gently, her eyes flickering up to watch you visibly relax. “Much better now darling let’s do this form together, I understand it’s your first time, so let me teach you what to do.” Stunned you just nodded along in understanding answering her questions as she asked them. “What’s your role here?” She murmured gently to you causing you to pause. “I uh just a placement teacher?” If you could’ve, you would’ve died of embarrassment on the spot as the look of pity she gave you. “No darling, you aren’t just anything you’re a teacher okay? You may be in training but you’re still teaching at my school.”

Perhaps it was embarrassment or maybe the fact she was practically a goddess in front of you, well known for her years of experience in the field but you cheeks heated up as a blush spread all over your cheeks as you ducked your head slightly. Praise and understanding from adults was always something you struggled to accept, the lack of it in your younger years meant you craved it all the more. The rest of the form was simple and she walked you through everything, gently explaining what you needed to know and what would happen next. “There. All finished. And you darling, if you ever need anything, a chat, some help with plans for lessons or even just to say hello, my door is always open for you darling” she mumbled as she stood up to lead you from the office. Perhaps this placement wouldn’t be bad at all especially with such a supportive headmistress

[airas-story]

https://www.tumblr.com/everyshadeofroseandred/772356400620978176/httpswwwtumblrcomairas-story7712587758564474?source=share

Another sequel please🤭

Whoo. This series has gotten surprisingly long! Here are parts one, two, three, four, and five!

Stephen ran a finger along the thorn of the rose he’d picked from the London Sanctum garden’s rose bush, watching Tony take in Stephen’s confession. The space between them echoed with the words, I love you.

Tony frowned. “Stephen,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to love me. Your friendship is enough.” 

Not the reaction Stephen’d been hoping for. How ridiculous was this? He knew his love was requited but was still at risk of rejection. 

“I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself since you overheard Clint,” Tony continued. “But convincing yourself you love me isn’t the answer. I thought I was helping by trying to move on with Lia. If I made it worse—”

“Stop,” Stephen interrupted. “Convincing myself I love you?” Stephen asked. “That’s what you think happened?”

“You weren’t interested before,” Tony argued. “Clint put the thought in your head; you got this idea you’d… I don’t know, lose me, if you didn’t reciprocate; you got scared, convinced yourself you loved me to make sure that didn’t happen.” He shrugged, indicating it was obvious. “You’ve lost too much; you don’t want to lose anything else. It’s natural. You—”

“I’m not afraid of losing you!” Stephen interrupted again, voice louder than intended. It was a lie; he was afraid, but not the way Tony thought. He knew Tony wouldn’t abandon him. “I’m afraid of losing my chance with you.”

”Stephen, you have me—“

“I love you,” Stephen interrupted a third time. “Tony, you’re my friend.” He took a deep breath. “So, trust me when I say this.”

Tony sighed. “Stephen…” His gaze dropped to the rose in Stephen’s hand, as though trying to understand what it meant.

Stephen moved closer. “Tony, I love you,” he repeated. 

Tony searched his gaze. Finally, he smiled. “I love you, too.”

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

For context for: THE BOYS AND THEIR MOMS

The moms: Scar and Jimmy

The boys: Gem, Pearl and Cleo

I think it would be absolutely hilarious to watch Jimmy and Scar, attempt to be the responsible. And I feel like the whole team would be formed by those two trying to argue that they aren't that bad so then the rest of the group argues they are that bad and act chaotic to prove

And the thing is, Jimmy won't have any leverage in any situation because he can't out PVP any of them.

So could you imagine Jimmy trying to talk Cleo down for burning down someone else is base and like he can't physically stop her because he knows that's they will do it anyway so there's no point in trying to physically stop them but he least has to make an attempt to prove his point

And Scar a "late gather", in the sense that he won't only ever get materials if he's not able to steal or bargain someone else for them. Like he consistently only goes mining a minimum of episodes in. While everyone does it episode 1. So imagine a very under-prepared Scar grapple with the reality that he does have to do the things that other players do much more early on to try and control his rowdy team

And the best thing is they will not learn from this experience they will continue to be chaotic in the Life series after that so there is nothing to be learned here is just for fun

It will be the silliest and most chaotic team the life series has ever seen

Can you imagine Scar trying to tell pearl not to do something he would have 100% done without adult supervision just to prove a point?? You would be able to hear him struggling to hold Back the "ooooo can I join??" In the name of him trying to prove he is responsible

And the reason I called it THE BOYS AND THEIR MOMS, it's because Cleo and sometimes Gem and Pearl, always refers to the boys in the server as being the most chaotic and to it they would obviously try to act like the boys in the server

And I called Jimmy and Scar the moms as a reference to Limited Life and that family dynamics, but also because of the fact that Cleo commonly refers to herself as the parent in most situations.

And I feel out of everyone Cleo would be trying to prove the point of their lack of responsibility and chaotic nature the most because she's one of the only people to have dealt with the BOTH of them on a team or at least friendly more than once.

Convince me that would not be funny. I dare you.

Teams for the Life Series

Plus a Etho win. As a treat?

[airandyeah]

Gimme Gimme Gimme (God!Sukuna X Reader) Pt.3

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The silence that Sukuna left in his wake feels almost like an echo. You’re alone in the minka, the weight of his words still pressing down on you, suffocating in their heaviness. The shrine feels colder now — the once peaceful space now twisted by the unsettling thought that the god you’ve awakened is always watching. It’s as if the walls are closing in around you, but it’s not just the physical space that’s shrinking. It’s your sense of control, your ability to make choices that feel like your own.

You find yourself back in the minka after Sukuna leaves, though it's not a place you want to return to. The tatami mats seem less familiar now, less safe. They feel like a trap, like the very air inside is soaked with the oppressive presence of the man you can’t escape. You move through the house with quiet, calculated steps, trying not to let your thoughts betray the fear swirling inside you.

But that night, as you lie down in the dark, the sense of being watched creeps up again. It’s suffocating, and you can’t shake it — not from the corners of the room, not from the empty shadows. Sukuna’s voice whispers, a ghost of his presence that you can’t seem to banish.

And then the dreams come.

The same twisted, impossible landscape. The shrine — or what was once your shrine — now a warped, haunting reflection of the place you knew. The trees bend and groan like tortured souls. And Sukuna, always watching, always waiting, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that goes beyond physical desire. He watches you fall apart, piece by piece, and you can’t tell if it’s his influence or something inside you slowly breaking that’s causing it.

You wake in a cold sweat, the same fear curling in your chest. And when you sit up in bed, you see him standing there, right by the window, his silhouette barely visible in the weak light of the moon. His presence is overwhelming, yet somehow, you can’t seem to look away.

“You didn’t learn your lesson last time, did you?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, but there's something different in the tone. Less mocking, more… intent.

You try to steady your breath, your heart pounding in your ears. But there’s a strange, uncomfortable pull between you and him now. It’s not just fear. It’s something else, something you can’t quite name. You’d almost call it… longing, if it didn’t feel so wrong.

He steps closer, just a step, but the weight of that step seems to distort the space around him, pulling your focus like a magnet. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, it feels like everything else in the world fades away.

“You think you have a choice. You think you can fight this.” His voice is low, almost sensual, and you can feel it crawling under your skin. “But everything you are, everything you’ve been, is already mine. You’re not the same person you were three weeks ago.”

Your pulse quickens, and you can’t tell if it’s the fear or something else making your breath hitch in your chest. You want to fight him, to tell him he’s wrong. But his presence is overpowering, and for a second, you catch yourself—just for a second—wondering if there’s a part of you that wants to be this tangled up in him.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. The pressure in your chest, the way your heart races, the way your hands tremble — it’s too much. The rebellion that burned inside you is smothered, like a fire dampened by a suffocating weight.

Sukuna seems to notice, and his smile stretches, this time not mocking, but almost… pleased. “Tell me, little one, do you even want to fight me anymore? Or has the fear begun to taste sweeter than your defiance?”

A new tension fills the air as Sukuna closes the distance between you, his eyes locking with yours.

“You think I want your devotion? No,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “what I want is for you to understand. You’re not the one in control anymore.”

The room around you starts to shift, warping just like the landscape of your dreams. You feel your body freeze, like it’s not even your own. The shrine, the god, the weight of the promises you’ve yet to fully understand—they’re all pulling you in, dragging you further under his influence.

But there’s something else, too. Something inside you that fights against it. Not just for the sake of defiance, but because you know, deep down, that you can’t let yourself fall so completely. Not into someone like him.

You feel yourself sinking deeper, but you also feel that defiant spark inside you still fighting — even if it’s just a flicker.

“You think you can just break me,” you manage to say, voice hoarse, “but I won’t… I won’t let you take me.”

Sukuna’s eyes burn with an intensity that makes your words seem smaller, weaker. “You’ve already been taken, little one. Don’t you see? The chains are already there. You just haven’t noticed them yet.”

Before you can say anything more, he steps back, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, his voice like a promise — or perhaps a curse. Then he vanishes, leaving you alone in the dark once again, the oppressive silence taking over.

But now, a question lingers in the air: Can you escape him? Or has he already claimed everything? ~~~

A month later, the oppressive atmosphere of the minka remains, but you’ve learned to live with it, to breathe through it. The tatami mats have become a backdrop to the strange, new rhythm of your life, where you still feel trapped — but somehow, less terrified.

Sukuna’s presence is constant, like the ghost of a past that never quite lets go, and though you know he’s still watching, there’s something different now. A strange tension has settled between you both — a dance of power, banter, and something that gnaws at the edges of your mind, something you’re still too afraid to fully name.

It starts in the mornings. When you least expect it, his voice will echo through the empty halls, that deep, mocking tone dripping with amusement.

“Back to your little corner, little one? You’re always hiding from me. Doesn’t that get tiring?” His words find you in your usual spot by the small desk, fingers tracing the edges of your paper, but your mind clearly elsewhere.

You don’t look up, your face a mask of calm. “I’m not hiding,” you reply, but there’s a bite in your voice that wasn’t there before. “You’re just getting better at sneaking around.”

Sukuna chuckles from the shadows, as though enjoying the subtle shift in your attitude. The teasing in his voice is accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric — the way his presence distorts the space around him, bending it to his will. You still don’t turn to face him, but you feel the weight of his gaze on you, almost like a physical touch.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” His voice is low, dangerous, but there’s an almost playful edge to it. “You’ve certainly gotten braver. Or is it that you’ve finally realized how utterly helpless you are?”

A month ago, you might’ve flinched. You might’ve trembled at his words, but now you feel something else. Something stronger.

“Maybe I’m just used to your voice,” you say, finally looking up at the shadow in the doorway. “It’s the only thing that’s constant around here.”

Sukuna steps closer, a slow, deliberate movement that makes the air thicken, heavy with the weight of his power. The teasing in his eyes is unmistakable, but there’s something darker lurking there, something that makes your pulse quicken despite the calm mask you try to hold.

“You think you’re clever,” he says, his voice a soft threat now. “You think you’re controlling the game. But you know better than that, don’t you?”

You feel the shift in the air — the undercurrent of his control. It’s like a leash around your throat, invisible but suffocating. But there’s also something else, something that’s been growing between you two. A strange, unspoken connection that flares up when he looks at you like that.

“Maybe I’m learning how to play the game,” you retort, standing up from the desk. “Or maybe you’ve just grown predictable.”

His smirk stretches into something more dangerous, the flicker of amusement never fading. “Predictable, hm? You think you’ve figured me out, little one?”

“Not entirely,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “But I’m not scared anymore. Not of you.”

Sukuna pauses, eyes narrowing as he takes a step closer, his gaze boring into yours. “Is that so?” His tone is low, dangerous, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“You’ve stopped running,” he continues, his voice almost thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean you’re safe. You’re just standing still, letting the chains pull you.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t look away. “Maybe I’m tired of running,” you say quietly, and it’s not the defiance you expect. There’s something softer in your voice now, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’m learning to stand my ground.”

Sukuna’s gaze softens for a fraction of a second — a brief flash of something that might be approval, or something far more complicated than you’re ready to admit. Then it vanishes, replaced with his usual smirk.

“Well, then, little one,” he says, his voice a mix of danger and something else, “let’s see if standing your ground is enough to keep you from breaking.”

The playful banter is always there now, a constant thread woven between your interactions, but underneath it, there’s that growing unease. You both know that something deeper is at play, but neither of you is willing to fully confront it.

Not yet, at least.

For now, the dance continues. His teasing, your defiance, the way the air hums with tension whenever you’re near him.

But in the quiet moments, when he’s not looking, you can’t help but wonder: Is this just a game for him? Or is there something more — something neither of you is ready to face? ~~~ After extensive research it was revealed to you that Sukuna was a very powerful God in his prime -not that he isn't now- and he had many enemies. In his earthly shrine, which used to be much bigger and grand than what it is now, he had 12 concubines, 24 servants, and 6 priests and priestess'. He had a powerful village he ruled over, festivals where hosted in his honor, to give him offering. These offering where not of food, or items worth much money... But they were in blood. Humans, animals, demons, yokai, everything was a sacrifice.

The blood was a symbol of devotion, but it also fueled Sukuna's unimaginable power. It was said that every drop fed his strength, heightening his influence over the land, the spirits, and even the elements themselves. As the years passed, his rule grew more tyrannical, as the demands for offerings became insatiable. The villagers, once devoted, began to fear him, but their fear was tangled with reverence, for the power he wielded was both divine and terrifying.

Over time, however, Sukuna’s power started to attract not only worshippers but also enemies. Other gods and celestial beings, threatened by his growing dominance, conspired against him. The balance of the spiritual realm was delicate, and Sukuna's influence was beginning to shift it dangerously. The first attacks were subtle—small, silent sabotage in the form of plagues, curses, and natural disasters aimed at weakening the shrine, but they soon escalated. There were whispers of a secret society of priests who banded together, determined to bring down the once-mighty god.

The fall of his shrine was inevitable. His concubines, his servants, and his priests began to disappear under mysterious circumstances, and the once-celebrated festivals were silenced, leaving only whispers in the dark corners of the world. Sukuna’s temple, once a symbol of his unrivaled power, lay in ruins, abandoned and overgrown with creeping vines and neglect.

Yet, despite the destruction, Sukuna's presence never fully vanished. His spirit, it seemed, lingered in the world, waiting. And in the blood that was spilled, whether willingly or unwillingly, there were remnants of his power, still echoing in the veins of those who encountered it.

You begin to wonder, as you trace the remnants of his past, whether his fall was truly complete, or if something darker, something more dangerous, still remains hidden beneath the surface of the world. ~~~ "Where your concubines gifts like your other offerings?", you asked him when you discovered he had been sitting in full-lotus out on the porch.

Sukuna's eyes flickered briefly as your question reached him, his gaze lingering on the horizon, as if he were trying to peer through time itself. There was an unsettling stillness in the air, and his presence, once a terrifying force of nature, now carried a subtle weight of something older, more ancient.

His voice was low, almost a rumble, as he spoke. "Concubines, like all things, were both a gift and a tool. Their devotion… their blood, offered not only to please me but to bind their souls to mine. They were meant to sustain me—just as the blood of humans, yokai, and animals did. But they also served as a reminder of power and control. Each life taken, each drop spilled, tightened my grip on this world."

He paused, a hint of something distant in his eyes, something that could have been a memory or a reflection on regret. "But gifts are not always freely given. They are expected. And once they cease to please, or once they outlive their usefulness, they fade. I do not need their offerings now, but the blood of my past lingers, doesn’t it? In you, in others."

His words hung heavy between you two. The silence stretched on, the air thick with unspoken truths.

"Did you care for them, Sukuna?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. It was one you hadn't intended to ask, but it felt necessary in the moment.

His eyes flickered toward you then, almost narrowing, as though your question had caught him off guard. "Care?" His lips curled into a smirk. "I was a god. To care was to weaken myself. But they were... fascinating, in their devotion. They believed they could become one with me, to share in my eternity. It amused me at times."

A dark chuckle escaped him, but it was devoid of true humor. His gaze returned to the overgrown temple, his voice growing softer, more contemplative. "In the end, it was never about them. It was always about power. And once power is tasted... everything else becomes a distant afterthought."

You could feel the weight of his words pressing in, and it made you wonder if his fall, if his loneliness, had been the price of that hunger for control. Was it possible that his need for devotion, for offerings, had cost him more than he’d ever realized?

"What happened to them?" you asked cautiously, knowing the answer might reveal more than you wanted to know.

Sukuna's eyes darkened. "Some were taken. Some… vanished. As enemies came closer, I retreated, and the sanctuary I built crumbled with them. They were nothing but pawns in a game much larger than them. But perhaps they knew the price of that devotion, in the end."

The air around you seemed to pulse with the echoes of a forgotten time, and a realization began to settle in your mind. Sukuna's past was not just filled with blood and sacrifice. It was a tale of power, of those who had given everything for a god that ultimately cared little for their fates.

But now, as his presence lingers in the present, the question remains: can anything truly fade away in his wake? Or does the blood still pulse beneath the surface, waiting for its next chapter?

"Do you think it's possible for you to be… defeated?" you ventured, the question heavy with implication.

His eyes turned toward you, and there was something ancient in them, a depth of knowledge that seemed to stretch beyond human comprehension. "Defeated?" he mused. "Perhaps not. There are forces that might try, but those who would seek to end me forget one thing." His smile, twisted and predatory, spread across his face. "I was once a god. And no matter how much time passes, I will always be... something."

You let his words linger in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you. The question that had been quietly gnawing at you resurfaced, sharper now, a jagged shard of curiosity that you couldn’t shake off.

"But," you started slowly, unsure of how to phrase it, "do you ever think... do you ever wonder if you could care for anyone now?"

Sukuna’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker—just a flicker—of something unsettling in his eyes, like a brief moment of vulnerability buried beneath the layers of his godhood. He didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the question hang, suspended in the air between you two. For a brief, unsettling moment, you weren’t sure if he even knew how to answer.

"I have no need for attachments," he finally said, his voice quiet but firm. "They only bring weakness. A god cannot afford such things."

But then his gaze seemed to drift, distant, almost wistful, as though he were looking past you, past the broken ruins of his once-mighty shrine, into something far older, far deeper.

"You ask if I could care," he repeated, almost to himself, "and I wonder... Perhaps, in some forgotten corner of my being, I might have once understood it. But I am beyond that now. And those who worshipped me... those who sought to be near me, they were... fleeting."

His lips curled again into a half-smile, the kind that promised nothing soft, nothing human. "They believed they could be everything to me, but I was never truly theirs. Not in any way that mattered."

His gaze flickered back to you then, the sharpness returning. "You think I could care for someone? After all that I’ve seen, after all that I’ve taken? No. A god cannot afford the luxury of such frailty."

There was a silence again, thick and charged, the weight of his words pressing on you like a physical force. You wondered if the emptiness in his voice was something he believed, or if it was something he had told himself so often that it had become the only truth he knew.

"But what if..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if there was someone who could make you feel something different? Something more than power, more than sacrifice?"

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, as though contemplating the absurdity of the suggestion. "Feel something different?" His tone was laced with a dark amusement, though there was a flicker of something—something flickering in the depths of his gaze.

The smirk on his face grew ever so slightly. "You underestimate the cost of such things. No one is worth that price."

Yet, as his eyes studied you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was lying to himself—or if there was a small part of him that longed for something beyond the power that had consumed him for so long.

And perhaps, somewhere deep within, the question that lingered between you wasn’t whether he could care for anyone... but whether he ever truly stopped caring about anything at all.

Taglist: @rinkomei , @sleepycrybbylaiah Taglist is always open for anyone!

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

[ajalholland]

Knight in shining armor (Sephiroth x shy reader)

WARNINGS: Language

Sephiroth stood on one of the decks of the massive cruise ship, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He had not wanted to be sent here, but Shinra thought it best for him to take a little vacation.

As he turned to retreat to the solitude of his cabin, a sudden impact collided with his chest. Sephiroth's reflexes took over and his hands reached out to steady the falling form. 

The woman blushed fiercely, stammering wildly as she stumbled over her own feet. "I am so, so sorry." She said in a panicked voice, refusing to look up. She was far too embarrassed by what just happened. Her heart was racing from the impact.

Sephiroth was mildly surprised to find himself in this situation. He looked down at her curiously, taking in her features. She was a beautiful woman, wearing a straw hat and a sun dress, with (H/l) (H/c) hair, and a lovely face. Despite her embarrassment, Sephiroth had to admit that he was intrigued.

(Y/n)'s face was still a blushing mess, as she managed to force another series of timid "I'm sorrys" out, still refusing to look up and meet his gaze.

Sephiroth chuckled softly, finding her shyness almost endearing. "It's quite alright," he said. "You need not apologize for something that was clearly an accident."

He released his grip on her and stepped back, taking a moment to regard her properly. She was a pretty little thing, and Sephiroth found himself feeling a bit amused by her reaction to him.

(Y/n) finally mustered up the courage to look up at him and when she did, her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. He was incredibly handsome. She swallowed hard, her heart beating even faster than it was before. "Ah.. right," she muttered sheepishly.

Sephiroth smirked at her reaction, enjoying her obvious awe. "You're awfully shy," he observed. "Does my presence scare you?" He leaned in closer to her, his bright cyan eyes studying her intently.

(Y/n)'s face got hotter. She took a small step back, her heart racing faster and faster with every second. "A-ah, no!" She stammered. "N-not at all!" she said, lying blatantly. Her nerves got the best of her, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

Sephiroth chuckled, amused by her stuttering. He could see the effect he was having on her, and it was rather amusing."Sorry, sorry. I'm just teasing." he chuckled, trying to hide a smirk behind his hand. He cleared his throat, before continuing. "I'm Sephiroth. And you are?"

She took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. But this man was having an overwhelming effect on her, and it was proving impossible for her to seem calm.

"(Y-(Y/n)." She said, her heart still thudding loudly in her chest. "My name is (Y/n)."

"(Y/n)," Sephiroth repeated, testing the sound of her name on his tongue. "A pretty name for a pretty woman."

He found her bashfulness to be rather charming, and he couldn't help but be slightly entertained by her reaction to him.

Her face flushed even hotter, if that was even possible, at his words, making her feel like she was on fire. "T-thank you..." she managed to mumble, completely flustered. She was having trouble even thinking straight, let alone speaking normally, with his intense gaze on her.

Sephiroth chuckled as he continued to watch her squirm. He reached out, gently lifting her chin with his finger so she looked directly at him."You know, you don't have to be so nervous around me," he said, his voice soft yet commanding. "I don't bite."

(Y/n)'s heart nearly exploded in her chest as his finger lifted her chin, making her look directly into his eyes. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to speak, but all she could manage was a choked "A-ah..."

Sephiroth's smirk widened at her continued nervousness. He found her adorable, and he began to wonder if this vacation wouldn't be so bad after all.

He let go of her chin, taking a step back to give her some space. "Are you free at the moment?" He asked.

(Y/n) finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief as he stepped back and gave her some space. Her heart rate slowly started to return to something resembling a normal pace. "U-um, yes." She said hesitantly, still trying to calm herself. "I don't have any plans at the moment."

Sephiroth nodded. "Good," he replied. "Walk with me. Please." He offered his arm to her, wanting her to take it.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, unsure if she could handle walking with him, considering how just a simple touch from him had nearly given her a heart attack. But there was something about him, something that drew her in, and with a deep breath, she slowly reached out and took his arm.

Sephiroth took her arm with a smirk, pulling her close to his side. He began to walk, his stride confident and sure. As they walked, he stole glances at her, finding her beautiful. "So tell me about yourself," He asked, curious to get to know this cute girl.

His question caught her off guard, and she struggled to collect her thoughts. "Me?" she managed to say. "I-I'm nothing special, really. Just a regular girl..."

Sephiroth chuckled at her response, finding her modesty endearing. "I doubt that," he said. "A girl as pretty as you is anything but regular." He looked down at her, a smirk on his face. "Try again."

Despite her embarrassment, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. His words, while flustering her, were also strangely comforting. She took a moment to respond, trying to find the right words.

"Well, I'm from Midgar, and I work as a nurse. Other than that, I enjoy reading books in my spare time." She said, her voice slightly more confident than before.

Sephiroth nodded as he listened to her. "A nurse, huh?" he said, his smirk lingering. "That's an admirable profession. It takes a special kind of person to care so much for others."

They continued walking, his arm still linked with hers, he found himself genuinely enjoying her company.

Suddenly (Y/n) visibly tensed, recognizing the familiar face of her ex-boyfriend John, glaring at her angrily from a distance. Panic began to rise in her chest, and she quickly pulled her hat down over her face.

Sephiroth noticed her sudden reaction. He followed her gaze and saw the man in the distance, looking at her with a glare. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, his voice low yet commanding.

"That man over there..." (Y/n) managed to whisper, keeping her voice low as to not draw his attention. "He... he's my ex-boyfriend."As she spoke, John continued to storm towards them, his face twisted in anger and jealousy.

Sephiroth's expression darkened as he observed the man approaching them. "I see..." He muttered, his hand subconsciously tightening into a fist. "Do you want me to handle him?"

(Y/n) bit her lip, torn between wanting to handle the situation herself and avoiding confrontation with John, who was now only a few feet away from them. But before she could make a decision, John's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Is this why you ran!?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes at (Y/n). "So you could run off to your new boy toy?!"

Sephiroth bristled at the man's words, his irritation growing by the second. He detested the man just by the way he spoke to her. "Boy toy?" Sephiroth repeated, his tone icy. "You'd be wise to watch your words." He took a step forward, positioning himself in front of (Y/n) to shield her from John.

John sneered, his gaze flicking between Sephiroth and (Y/n). "What, you think you're her knight in shining armor now?" he sneered. "You don't know her like I do. She's just playing hard to get."

(Y/n) opened her mouth to speak, John cut her off with a harsh glare. "Be quiet," he snapped, his voice laced with anger.

(Y/n) flinched at his tone, but remained silent, her eyes downcast.

Sephiroth's eyes flashed with anger as John continued to speak to her in that way. He took another step forward, standing directly in front of him now. "You will not talk to her that way," Sephiroth said, his tone cold and biting. He could feel his anger building, the urge to punch the man growing stronger with every word he said. But he knew he needed to stay cool.

John rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed by Sephiroth's intimidating stature. "Oh, please," he scoffed, looking at Sephiroth as if he was an annoyance. "What are you going to do about it, huh?" He tried to go around Sephiroth.

Sephiroth caught his wrist as he tried to go around, gripping it tightly. "I warned you once already," he said, his voice low and calm. "Don't go near her."

John yanked his arm back, trying to break free from Sephiroth's grip, but it was useless. He was no match for the other's strength. "You think you're so tough," he growled, his face turning red from anger. 

Sephiroth's smirk returned, his grip still tight on John's wrist. His calm demeanor was starting to slip, and his patience was wearing thin. "I don't think. I know," he said. "You'd be wise to remember that."

John's face twisted into an expression of pure anger at being talked to that way, and he struggled even harder to break free. "Let go of me, you bastard!" he growled.

(Y/n) watched the exchange with concern and worry. A part of her felt guilty for dragging Sephiroth into this, but another part of her was grateful for his protection.

Sephiroth's grip on John's wrist loosened, and as soon as he let go, John stumbled back, landing hard on his ass. John let out a pained grunt as he hit the ground, looking up at Sephiroth with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "You son of a bitch!" he sputtered, scrambling to his feet. Raising his fist, and aiming for Sephiroth, his eyes narrowing. "She's mine. The slut belongs to me!"

With a sickening crunch, Sephiroth's fist connected with John's face. John's head snapped back as he stumbled backwards.

 (Y/n)'s eyes widened as Sephiroth's fist connected with John's face. She gasped, surprised by the unexpected turn of events.

John slumped to the floor, unconscious, and (Y/n) couldn't believe what had just happened. She stared at Sephiroth with a hint of admiration in her gaze.

Sephiroth exhaled, his anger slowly fading and realization setting in. He looked down at his clenched fist, before taking a deep breath to compose himself.

He turned his gaze to (Y/n), who was staring at him wide-eyed. "I.. I'm sorry.. I don't know what came over me." he whispered.

(Y/n)'s heart was beating wildly, and she took a step forward, gently placing a hand on his arm. "You don't have to apologize," she said, her voice soft. "You... you stood up for me. Thank you."

Sephiroth felt her touch on his arm, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. He couldn't believe that he had let his emotions get the best of him like that, but he couldn't ignore the deep sense of satisfaction he felt, knowing that he had protected her.

"It was nothing," he said gruffly, trying to downplay his actions. "I just couldn't stand the way he was speaking to you."

(Y/n) smiled gently, her eyes bright with gratitude. "It wasn't nothing," she insisted quietly. "You stood up for me when no one else would, and I'm truly grateful."

A small blush formed on her cheeks as she continued speaking. "I... I've never had anyone do that for me before..."

Sephiroth's gaze softened even more, his expression becoming almost tender. Her words were tugging at something deep within him, something he didn't quite understand.

"You deserve better than him." He paused for a moment, his thoughts turning inward. "How about I take you out to dinner? To make up for punching your ex's face in.." he chuckled, his tone gentle and sheepish.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected him to ask her out, but the idea of it sent a flutter through her chest. She nodded, a smile forming on her lips.

"Yes, I'd love that," she said, barely above a whisper. She looked down shyly for a moment before adding, "Though, I hope you don't get into a fight every time we go out."

Sephiroth chuckled at her comment, his earlier anger starting to crumble away. "I make no promises." he said with a smirk. He looked at John laying on the floor, and with a grunt he dragged the unconscious John across the cruise ship's deck, before he dumped the man onto a lounge chair. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork.

Satisfied, he picked up John's sunglasses, and carefully placed the them on the man's face, to hide his closed eyes from view.

Anyone glancing over would simply assume the man was lost in a peaceful slumber, soaking up the warm sunlight.

Sephiroth allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk as he turned back to (Y/n), and took her hand, gently guiding her away from the unconscious body of her ex-boyfriend. "Come, let's go somewhere more pleasant."

"Okay..." (Y/n) allowed him to guide her, feeling her heart still racing in her chest from the events and from being so close to him.

The feeling of his hand holding hers was sending sparks of electricity through her body, and she couldn't help but steal glances at him.

She was going to marry this man someday.

(Requested by: Kimi)

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I Can Show You Lies

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 11

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.6k words

Warnings: Language, angst and pining, Vigilante Shit & Roy's very understandable reaction, mentions of an almost-hookup, Roy is still an idiot

A/N: I hope you enjoy the angst! I can't believe I'm almost done with this series... Thank you for being so wonderful as always ❤️

“Uncle Roy, did you get all these bracelets last night?”

Roy glanced over his shoulder from our spot in the kitchen to the living room, where Phoebe was. “Yeah,” he called to his niece before turning to face me again. “Thanks,” he continued, grinning down at the tickets on the counter. “She’s going to lose her shit.”

My own smile grew as I looked over at Phoebe, sitting crisscross on the living room floor and sorting through the friendship bracelets Roy had been sporting the night before. “I’m a little offended you felt like you had to ask,” I teased as I took a bite of one of the cookies I’d brought over with a pair of concert tickets. “I thought you bringing her would be a given.”

Before Roy could answer, Phoebe’s little voice cut though our conversation. “Uncle Roy, why does this one say ‘Daddy’?”

Cookie crumbs sprayed onto the counter as I tried and failed to hold back a laugh. Roy shot me a dirty look, his face furiously red as he stammered out a couple syllables of nonsense.

“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe ran into the kitchen, clutching the bracelet in question. “Are you two having a baby?!”

My face was probably as red as Roy’s now. I eyed the manager, wondering how the hell he wanted to navigate this one.

“No one’s having a baby,” he growled, hastily taking the bracelet from his niece and stuffing it into his pocket.

Her smile faded into a small pout. “Oh,” she sighed. “I would’ve liked having a baby cousin.”

At least this time I didn’t have a cookie in my mouth to spit out. Roy paused for a moment, eyes flickering briefly to me, before snatching the pair of tickets from the kitchen counter.

“Here,” he said simply as he handed them to Phoebe.

There were a few seconds of silence in the kitchen as she scrunched her nose and cocked her head, studying the tickets she clutched. That silence was pierced by a high-pitched shriek as Phoebe threw her arms around her uncle, who now wore that smile he only ever had for her. He laughed and hugged her back, planting a little kiss to the top of her blonde hair.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she was gushing, sounding like she was about to border on hyperventilating at any moment.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled, releasing her slightly; he was probably hoping she’d take a breath or two, I realized. When we locked eyes over the top of her head, his smile softened. “D’you think there’s someone else you’d better thank?”

In an instant, Phoebe’s arms were around my waist as the little girl beamed up at me. “Thank you,” she repeated. “Thank you so much. This is going to be the best night of my life!”

Unable to help myself, I hugged her back tightly. “You’re so welcome, Pheebs. I hope you have a good time tonight.” I glanced back at her uncle, who was watching us with that familiar fondness on his face. “Both of you,” I added with a grin.

~

“Wembley, you are looking beautiful tonight!”

The crowd cheered boisterously for the popstar, who smiled as she took in the sold-out arena. Roy was impressed; her energy was just as strong as the previous night, her awe and amazement genuine, as though this was her first time performing for a full stadium as opposed to her second night in the row.

When Roy managed to tear his eyes away, he looked down at his niece. The look on her little face was magical. She was completely entranced with the show- the lights, the dancers, the music, her- that she barely even looked at Roy. He smiled to himself, remembering his own catatonic state the previous night; this must have been what it was like for Keeley and Jamie. This concert really was impressive, he told himself. That was why he’d been so enraptured, of course.

Onstage, the singer strummed her guitar casually, beaming at her screaming fans. “You know,” she was saying, “I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors lately. And, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to clarify something.” The song she began to play was familiar, bouncy and fun, sending the entire stadium into an uproar.

I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey But something happened, I heard him laughing I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent They say home is where the heart is But that's not where mine lives

When Roy glanced down, his niece was positively gleeful, singing along to every word of the pop hit from the singer’s previous album. He felt a strange surge of pride at how familiar he was now with her discography. A smile on his own face, he turned back to the stage just in time for the first chorus, her pretty voice almost drowned out by the fans who sang along.

You know I love a London boy I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon He likes my American smile Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates So I guess all the rumors are true You know I love a London boy Boy, I fancy you

Roy bopped his head along, almost tempted himself to sing along; maybe, just maybe, by the end of this tour he would be, he pondered. That would be fucking something. Surely their publicists would be thrilled at that image, of Roy Kent singing along to these silly love songs that weren’t as silly as he’d initially believed them to be.

And now I love high tea, stories from Chelsea, and from Richmond You can find me in the pub, we are watching football with his teammates

The stadium practically shook with excitement at the lyric changes. Roy’s cheeks were red-hot from the sight of all the eyes- and camera phones- that turned his way immediately. His face burned hotter when he caught that cheeky grin onstage, clearly smug over the reaction her surprise had garnered from her fans. Roy laughed and shook his head when their eyes met; he could admit when he’d been bowled over.

But God, I love the English- And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much

Fucking hell, Roy thought, tearing his eyes away from the singer to marvel at the crowd. Has Wemley ever been this loud in its entire history?

He vaguely knew the song she’d switched over to; it was by another singer, another American popstar, he recalled. It was a cute song, one that Phoebe really liked, based on the way she bounced and sang along. He’d heard that this was a common thing at her concerts, covering songs by friends or singers she really admired, as well as mashups. And, if the crowd’s reactions were anything to go by, this would end up being a fan favorite.

I'd go anywhere he goes And he says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him If he keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

Her eyes were on his, sparkling and joyful. Fuck, she was perfect up there, singing and smiling. Something in Roy’s chest ached as he watched her, that weird ache he’d begun to feel back at the lake, the one that popped up in her kitchen and at the quinceañera. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, or what he should do about it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he liked it.

But damn, he couldn’t help but admit to himself as she basked in the audience’s deafening applause. He sure as hell liked watching her.

~

The Liverpool crowd was deafening, just as loud as the fans at Wembley had been. The first three shows in London had streamed all over TikTok; it was fun to see people so excited to share their experiences, but I had worried about it taking some of the surprise away for other fans. If the Anfield Stadium audience felt any disappointment, they sure as hell weren’t showing it. They screamed and cheered and cried just as much as that first night at Wembley did.

One of my stagehands, one who’d been touring with me for years now, handed me my guitar with a smile and a wink, the way he always did. I slid the strap over my shoulder and smiled into the microphone, letting the sound of the stadium sink into my heart. I didn’t care how many times I did this or how “used to it” I was supposed to be; every little moment made me wonder when I was going to wake up from this fantasy.

“Liverpool,” I started, the simple few syllables sending the stadium into pandemonium. I laughed and shook my head. “Being here is so unreal. I mean, you’re only the home of the biggest band in history!” The mention of the city’s musical history garnered more shouts and cheers. “And I would be completely remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to pay tribute to them and share one of my favorite songs with you.”

I closed my eyes and gave a little strum, smiling at the light, easy sound, one I’d played countless times in my bedroom as a teenager.

Here, making each day of the year Changing my life with a wave of his hand Nobody can deny that there′s something there There, running my hands through his hair Both of us thinking how good it can be Someone is speaking But he doesn't know she′s there

Through the lights and blur of faces I managed to find Roy’s eyes, a familiar anchor now that made my smile grow instinctively. I shook my head at him as I sang, hoping he’d recognize the look in my eyes, the one I always wore when he was around. His own grin widened as the song went on, and I swore I saw him mouthing along to the words. Somehow, in a stadium of thousands of people, it felt like it was just the two of us, the way it had been by the lake, where the rest of the world didn’t matter as long as we were together.

Knowing that love is to share Each one believing that love never dies Watching their eyes And hoping I′m always there I will be there, and everywhere Here, there and everywhere Mmm-mmm Here, there and everywhere

As the stadium burst into cheers and applause, I kept my eyes on Roy, who wore that stupidly bashful and adorable grin that made my insides scramble. Unable to help myself, I blew a kiss in his direction and mouthed the three words I couldn’t help but think every time I saw him-

“I love you.”

~

Roy should be used to the knowing smiles at this point, he realized. For months now, the Greyhounds had smirked and winked at him whenever her name, her music, her pretty face appeared. So, he really should have known they’d spend half her concert with their eyes on him rather than the stage.

She’d generously offered to host the Greyhounds at any show they wanted to attend, probably assuming they would want to see her at Wembley. Instead, Richard had joked about everyone coming to France for the Paris show, Jamie had said something about wanting to take April to see the Eiffel Tower, Colin commented that he and Michael were planning on something special for their next holiday, and the next thing Roy knew, about half the team was booking flights and hotels to see her opening night in Paris.

Roy wasn’t sure how many of her shows he was supposed to travel to- especially with pre-season training looming on the horizon- but he was keen to fit in as many as he could. Initially, he’d grimaced at the thought of seeing the same show over and over, convinced that it would eventually grow tiresome to keep rewatching it. But, not for the first time, the pop star proved Roy wrong. Between the energy of the crowds, her adlibs and surprise song performances, and, honestly, her magnetic showmanship, Roy found himself just as enthralled as he’d been that first night at Wembley.

And he had to admit, seeing his team so mesmerized was pretty fucking fun.

“Roy, you must really love those costumes of hers, no?” Richard chuckled, elbowing Roy in the side. “Does she ever bring them back after a show?”

All Roy could do was roll his eyes and blush, hoping that was a believable enough response for his player. As he watched her strut in the dark blue bodysuit she’d suddenly appeared in- this one’s new, Roy mused with a quirked eyebrow- Roy couldn’t help pondering that last bit of Richard’s teasing. Those bodysuits were flattering, he admitted. Each and every one was custom-made, after all, designed to show off both her fluid dance moves and her gorgeous figure. He’d stumbled upon some photos and videos online of people- men and women alike- gushing over how good she looked and calling Roy a lucky man.

Yeah, he admitted with a dry chuckle as he watched the lights change for the next song. If this was real, I’d probably insist on seeing those fucking outfits at home.

But he didn’t have time to scold himself for his admittedly dirty thoughts, or to linger on what those thoughts could mean. Not when the music started and the dancers appeared back onstage with- chairs?

On Roy’s other side, Jamie leaned close. “Don’t remember this part,” he said, echoing Roy’s own thoughts.

Before Roy could confirm the striker’s comment, his mouth went completely dry.

Shrieks and screams filled the stadium, along with the sultry music, but Roy honestly couldn’t hear any of it. Not over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out every noise in the packed stadium- except for her voice.

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Once again, he knew the eyes of his teammates- and probably a lot of other people- were on him. But, fucking fucking fuck, he could only gaze at the vision onstage.

She stood center stage in that shimmering bodysuit- with so many damn cutouts he wondered if she was sewn into the thing- looking like sin itself with that red smirk of hers. One boot stomped onto the seat of the chair in sync with the music, showing off those thick, powerful thighs that Roy couldn’t help remembering feeling wrapped around him. Her movements, while smooth and confident as ever, were methodical now, copied by dancers Roy’s fuzzy brain barely registered.

I don't dress for women I don't dress for men Lately I've been dressing for revenge

Her hand traveled down her front slowly, tantalizingly, bringing Roy’s wide eyes down its seductive path that ended before it could land anywhere truly scandalous. The smile she flashed was sinful and teasing- and aimed right at him.

Without missing a beat, she turned and plopped herself into the chair with practiced ease, bouncing enticingly with her legs spread, the way Roy suddenly wished she would bounce on-

Whoa, he warned himself, swallowing hard and forcing himself to blink. Don’t fucking go there, Kent. He wasn’t sure what he was more worried about: crossing lines that had already been violated, or his… arousal becoming obvious to anyone who glanced at his jeans. More than ever, Roy Kent needed to get his imagination under control- and fast.

But it was as if she was trying to thwart his attempts to keep his cool. She stood and strutted as she sang in that sultry voice, the sequins on her costume shimmering as if they were trying to keep his attention on her suggestive movements. Hips that dipped just so, coquettish winks over her shoulder, open-mouth smirks; Roy couldn’t stop watching her even if he wanted to.

And she looks so pretty Driving in your Benz Lately she's been dressing for revenge

Oh fuck, she was doing that hand thing again. An involuntary gulp travelled down Roy’s throat as he once again forced himself to blink, briefly wondering what kind of dazed expression he wore; he’d be seeing it soon enough on social media, he thought wryly. There was no fucking way his every reaction wasn’t going to end up all over the internet.

She hovered over the chair, her back to the crowd, and slowly lowered herself back over it. Lower, lower, lower… and down with a satisfying bounce, her ass perfectly curved as she arched her back.

Don’t get mad, get even

Roy’s face- hell, his entire body- was white-hot as his jaw slacked, watching her turn over her shoulder to sing directly at him, adding a shameless wink as she continued to sing. She held his eye firmly for a moment, as if this were a private show, just for Roy, rather than a stadium filled with screaming fans who only grew louder with every erotic little movement.

So on the weekends She don't dress for friends Lately she's been dressing for revenge

She rose from her seated position, her movements slow and enticing, keeping Roy’s eyes glued firmly on her backside. He marveled at how truly sexy she was up there. Thinking back to the previous concerts, to the events where she was all dolled up, to the sleepovers where she wore pyjamas and sweatshirts, even to that night that he kept trying to push out of his mind, Roy had known all along that she was beautiful and attractive. But fuck. She was glowing up there, confident, moving flawlessly. She looked like any man’s fantasy come true.

Fuck it, he thought, shaking his head and grinning at her. She kind of looked like Roy’s fantasy come true.

~

April giggled as she scrolled past another video. “Holy shit, look at this one.”

I rolled my eyes and attempted to take her phone. “Stop,” I whined as she pulled out of my reach. My cheeks warmed as I glimpsed yet another video of me dropping onto the chair during “Vigilante Shit”, a sight that was apparently trending online.

“You look great,” my assistant insisted as she perched her phone on my nightstand and out of my reach. “Believe me.” She offered me a wicked smirk. “Roy Kent seemed to think so too.”

My face was warm as I laid back on my bed. “Oh hush,” I scolded, trying to hide a growing smile.

Her smirk widened. “Jamie said Roy looked absolutely wrecked when he saw you up there doing that chair dance,” she went on, as though I hadn’t just shushed her. “He barely blinked the entire song, just kept watching you do that little chair dance.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Dating Jamie Tartt had made April bold, I realized. She had never teased me this much during my other relationships. But for some reason, here she was, sitting in my hotel room after a night out with the Greyhounds following the show, giggling like a schoolgirl over my fake boyfriend.

She went on. “And you’ve seen the videos of him during the concert, right?” She fanned herself. “I think Mister Roy Kent might have lost his damn mind watching you, babe.”

“Sure,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Kent, interested in me. That’s a laugh.”

April studied me carefully for a moment, as if she was considering her next words. “What if he was? Interested in you, I mean.”

The words caught in my throat. Sure, I’d spent months with this man on my arm, kissing and fawning over him for the world to see. And for a few weeks now I’d been singing songs about him, teasing an album about him. But I had yet to tell a single living soul how I felt about him. How could I? Nearly everyone in my life thought we were in a serious relationship, clearly blissful and in love. The only people who knew the truth about me and Roy were Lanie, April, and Keeley Jones. Lanie was out of the question; she’d kill me for complicating the plan and mumble something about shitting where I ate. And Keeley Jones? The thought of telling Roy’s gorgeous model girlfriend- the one who got away- that I had feelings for Roy made me feel like my head was going to fall off.

So that only left April.

I swallowed hard and turned my gaze to closed curtains, as though the greige material was the most interesting thing in the world rather than April’s implications. “If Roy Kent was interested in me,” I repeated slowly, knowing that I’d never get this cat back into its bag, “it would not be the worst thing in the world.”

April shot up faster than the fireworks my brothers set off in the streets after the Dodgers won the World Series. “Excuse me?” she squeaked, eyes wide. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” I scoffed, sitting up. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“Does that mean…?” She quirked an eyebrow at me expectantly.

For a moment, the two of us simply stared at each other, neither willing to break the silence. We’d engaged in countless staring contests just like this over the years, with victories shared pretty evenly between us. But this time, I was determined to take the win, desperate to prolong the way I kept my feelings for Roy to myself.

Sure enough, the corner of April’s mouth finally ticked upwards. “You finally gave in, huh? I wondered how long it would take.”

My friend’s smile was impossible to resist. “Guess I did,” I chuckled, running my fingers through my unruly hair.

Before I could get in another word, April grabbed me and pulled me in close for a hug. “I knew it!” she gushed, laughter in her voice. “I knew from that first match I went to with you that this would happen.” She let me go, choosing to simply take my hands in hers, reminding me of childhood sleepovers with friends, chattering about crushes and chisme. “When did it happen?” she demanded. “How’d you realize you liked him?”

Unable to help myself, I shifted on the mattress, straightening my shoulders and thinking back. “When I met his niece,” I finally murmured, feeling my entire body soften as I remembered that night. “He was so soft and gentle with her.” I sighed dreamily. “And… and we ended up sharing his bed that night- Not like that!” I quickly added when I saw her eyes light up wickedly. “But I did wake up with his arms around me,” I admitted. “And I realized… I think I could love him.”

“Love?” April’s smile widened. “All of those songs were for him, weren’t they?” she whispered, eyes sparkling with suspicion and joy.

“Maybe,” I murmured with an eyeroll. It was pointless trying to play coy now- but it was kind of fun. “The man is kind of… inspiring.”

April shook her head. “I’ll bet,” she purred, waggling her eyebrows. She sobered a little, giving my hands a squeeze. “And Roy? How does he feel?”

My smile faltered. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “We, um, nearly had something happen in L.A., after the quince. But then he just kind of left.” I blinked rapidly, trying not to dwell on that night. “And then we came home, and after a while we went back to normal. Which is good.” I cleared my throat.  “We’re friends. And that’s good.”

“But you don’t want to be friends, do you?”

I shook my head. “It’s good enough for me,” I assured her. “I… I’d rather have Roy as my friend than not at all.”

April studied me for a moment, her head cocked thoughtfully. “But what if…” She pursed her lips. “What if he does feel the same way?” As I opened my mouth to refute her, she continued. “I mean, Jamie talks about Roy. A lot actually. It’s a bit concerning sometimes.” She let out a fond chuckle and went on, “And he cannot stop saying how in love Roy is. How he’s always got your music playing, how Jamie’s seen him just casually scrolling through Tweets and TikToks about the two of you, how he lights up when you’re around. How he hasn’t seen Roy like this in a long time.”

My voice came out so small I hardly recognized it, especially after singing in front of a sold-out stadium. “Should I tell him?”

“That’s up to you,” April said slowly. Leave it to April to choose now to stop trying to tell me what to do. “But,” she added, “I think either way, you can’t lose Roy Kent.” She squeezed my hand. “I think you’ve got that man for life.”

~

Some small part of Roy was almost dreading the second Paris show. Not that he was tired of seeing it; on the contrary, the show only seemed to get better with each performance. He found he not only had, well, fun, but he had a sense of pride watching her grow in confidence each night, looking more and more at home on that stage and the joy that radiated from that pretty face when she saw her fans’ passionate reactions to the new work she premiered. No, Roy could watch this show every damn night and never get bored.

What had Roy’s palms feeling clammy was knowing he’d be seeing that dance again. During the late dinner the Greyhounds had shared after the show, the guys had teased Roy nonstop, eliciting soft chuckles and eyerolls from him and the popstar who snuggled close to him at the table. Roy’s chest tightened with every joke about that little bodysuit, every wink shot their way, making his mind wander back to her bedroom in Los Angeles, to her arms around him and her mouth desperately on his, to all those things he was still trying to shove into a small corner of his brain and forget about.

But fucking hell she made it impossible, grinding on that chair again, putting on a damn burlesque show that made his skin go hot. At least this time he didn’t have to watch it in front of his entire team; no, tonight his only company was Keeley, who’d insisted on flying out after seeing all the clips of “Vigilante Shit” that Jamie kept sending her the night before.

Keeley’d said it was because she needed to see the sultry performance in person, something every single Greyhound understood. But, if the blonde was being honest, she wanted to see Roy. She’d had her suspicions for a while now, but she needed to see up close and in person how her ex reacted to seeing that gorgeous woman moving around in ways that made even Keeley’s mouth go dry.

And oh, Roy did not disappoint either. Keeley caught the way his jaw slacked and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he watched her plop onto that chair. If nothing else, Keeley mused with a smirk, her friend was clearly attracted to the beautiful singer. That much was obvious.

Roy managed to get his heart rate back down in time for the surprise song. He couldn’t help smiling as he watched her strum her guitar, reminding him of those afternoons by the lake, of that late morning in her backyard, moments he realized he held close to his heart.

Moments that might be more special to him than he’d even let himself believe.

“I want to share a really important song with you,” she told the already screaming audience. “You know, when you meet someone, it’s the scariest and most exciting thing in the world. You’re so thrilled to find someone so amazing and wonderful, but there’s that gnawing feeling of… ‘they’ll never like me back’. And living in that limbo is the most wonderfully hellish thing.” She laughed and shook her head. “And everything just feels so… Delicate.”

Roy’s ears were bombarded with screams as the crowd recognized the title, one of the songs from the new album. He allowed himself to add his own clapping and shouts, thrilled to get to hear yet another song that she’d kept hidden from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keeley, her mouth wide with glee and her phone ready to record; but, not for the first time, he ignored the sight of his ex-girlfriend in favor of focusing his attentions on the popstar who began playing the new tune.

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

She swayed to the music she played, looking bashful in front of the thousands of people screaming and cheering for her. Her voice was tender and vulnerable, as sweet as Roy remembered it being those afternoons at the lake, in their own little world of laughter and music. Some of the happiest afternoons of his life, he realized. Just the two of them, the cat, and her pretty voice.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

Roy stopped fighting his usual statuesque instincts and let his body rock back and forth to the music, the way he had in her kitchen while cookies baked in the oven and a Selena song filled the house and her fingers intertwined with his.

Another memory locked in his heart.

Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, you're a mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share

Something in her voice changed, carrying an almost desperation, something strangled, something that made the muscles Roy’s throat freeze up, making it impossible for him to swallow all the feelings that refused to stay squashed anymore. All he could think of was the image of her in her bed, the smell of alcohol floating in the space between their mouths, the shots he’d taken all night whispering doubts in his ear, telling him that the desire in her eyes was drunkenness and months of pretending, nothing more.

But when her eyes found his in the crowded stadium, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, those doubts were wrong. Because she was singing, right at him, eyes sparkling with something Roy knew his held, too.

Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine all the damn time

Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. Roy’s heart pounded in his chest so hard he pondered if he should call a medic.

What the fuck was he doing? This woman- this beautiful, talented, intelligent, fun, sexy as all hell woman- was serenading him in front of thousands of people. The past few months with her had been some of the best he’d ever had- months of laughter and joy and affection.

He loved her. Fucking hell, he loved her. Of course he did. He’d been in love with her for a while now, if he was being honest. How could he not be?

Isn’t it delicate?

Yeah, he realized as he added his clapping to the cheering crowd. It was delicate. Really fucking delicate. He couldn’t just dive in; he needed to get this off his chest and talk to someone, get some advice.

“Keeley,” he huffed in the model’s ear. “After the show, can we talk?”

~

See you at dinner!

I reread the text from Roy and fought the silly grin that grew at the sight of his contact name on my phone. After the show he’d suggested we grab some dinner, saying I should take my time getting ready because he needed to talk to Keeley first. (“Some stupid PR shit,” he’d grumbled with light eyeroll.)

A late-night dinner in some cozy Parisian restaurant after performing one of the most vulnerable songs I’d ever written? Seemed like just romantic enough to be the perfect opportunity to tell Roy how I felt about him.

I took a deep breath as I entered the restaurant, thankful that neither of our publicists had insisted on tipping off our location to photographers. No one paid any mind to me and my racing heart as I scanned the tables looking for-

Roy sat with his back to me, with Keeley perched on the chair next to him. Neither seemed to notice me, too engrossed in whatever somber conversation they were in the middle of.

I pondered what was the least obvious way to get Keeley to leave so I could be alone with Roy. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, she’d actually grown on me quite a bit, but I couldn't handle having to fake my way through a casual dinner. Not when I had my feelings for Roy weighing in my chest.

“Keeley,” Roy was saying as I got closer, “I just don’t know how to fucking do this anymore.” His growling sigh had me stopping in my tracks. “All this fucking pretending, I… fuck.”

The model patted Roy’s arm sympathetically. “You’ve gotta tell her,” she said softly. “You really have to just tell her.”

Roy shook his head. “Fuck am I supposed to say?” he hissed. “I mean, I only did this in the first place because I was trying to win you back, Keels. Because I never fucking got over you.”

My hands began to shake as I took a step backwards, turned, and briskly walked out of the restaurant. I tried to get my breathing under control as I flagged down a taxi and climbed in, mumbling the address for my hotel.

I was trying to win you back. I never got over you.

Stupid, stupid me.

I stumbled into my hotel room, finally allowing the tears to fall as I slammed the door behind me. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was all too familiar as I flopped onto the bed, not caring about the mascara stains I’d leave behind on the pillowcase.

I was trying to win you back. I never got over you.

How dumb could I be? I really thought Roy felt something more than friendship for me. Really? After that night in L.A., how could I be so damn foolish? A few smiles, a couple of compliments, some tipsy encouragement from April, and I really tricked myself into believing that Roy could love me too.

As I turned onto my back and let the silent tears stream down my cheeks and onto the pillow, I made a decision.

Friends with Roy Kent was no longer enough.

~

“You’ve gotta tell her,” Keeley had told him. “You really have to just tell her.”

 “Fuck am I supposed to say?” he had argued. “I mean, I only did this in the first place because I was trying to win you back, Keels. Because I never fucking got over you.”

After a moment, Keeley gave a twinkling little giggle. “But you did,” she pointed out. “Just like I knew you would.”

She admitted it: this had been her plan all along. She knew from the moment she met the pop star that she was something special, and that she and Roy could be something special together. All Keleey had to do was give a few little pushes- sleepovers, a vacation, an album full of love songs- and watch the obvious attraction take its course.

As Keeley explained the plan she’d deviously masterminded, Roy glimpsed his phone; a text, saying the popstar was really tired after her show and would be staying in.

“Go get her,” Keeley had laughed, seeing Roy’s disappointed face. “Hurry up now, or I’ll steal her from you.” She fanned herself playfully. “I mean, after that chair dance, Roy-o…”

So now, Roy strode down the hotel hallway, clutching the sunflowers he’d nicked from a closed flower stand on the corner; he figured the fistful of euros he’d left behind would more than cover his theft. Maybe it was a little cheesy, bringing sunflowers for the woman he called Sunshine, but to hell with it. He’d listened to enough of her music to know she liked cheesy and romantic and all the other silly things Roy suddenly wanted to be.

It felt like an eternity before he was finally in front of her door. Scrounging up every ounce of bravery he had, Roy knocked, two quick, hard raps, praying she was still awake and that he wouldn’t have to pound on her door like a werido-

The door opened quickly, revealing the popstar, in those familiar cozy pyjamas Roy found so damn endearing. His entire body softened at the sight of her, his excitement fizzling slightly when he caught sight of the streaks running down her cheeks. But dammit, he was a man on a mission and he just needed to fucking say it.

“Sunshine,” he breathed, his entire body trembling. “Listen, I-”

“Go away, Kent.” Her tiny, sharp voice stabbed at Roy’s heart.

His face fell, but he took a miniscule step towards her. “No, see, I’ve gotta tell you-”

“Just leave,” she said harshly. “Like, back to London.” She shifted, leaning in the doorway, her body blocking Roy from entering the room. Her eyes refused to meet his. “We’re done with this. We did our jobs, I got the press off my back about Everett, so congratulations. We can be done with this whole charade. So just… go home.”

Roy couldn’t believe a single thing she was saying. “But Lanie and- and Keeley-”

Something in her face darkened. “Yeah, I think Keeley will be just fine,” she all but spat. “So, why don’t you go so ask her to book you a seat next to her on the next flight out to London, hmm?”

What the fuck?

“We have that preseason match coming up,” he tried again, growing more desperate with each word out of her mouth. “You’re still coming, right? Even just as my friend- we’re friends, right, sunshine? Real friends?”

The dry laugh that came out of her mouth lodged a pit in Roy’s already turning stomach. “Friends?” she repeated. “Roy Kent, let’s be fucking honest about one thing, nothing about any of this has ever been real.” She shook her head, gripping the door so tight her knuckles turned white. “I fucking heard you, man.”

Roy winced at her words, at her tone, at her stony expression, and could do nothing but blink at the furious popstar.

She went on, “I was going to that restaurant to tell you how I felt about you, maybe turn dinner into a real date.” He now realized the streaks on her face were from crying- because her tears were flowing like a pair of rivers. “And I got to hear you tell Keeley Jones all about how you only did all of this to win her back. Well, congrats. You’re officially single again, so go fucking get her.”

With a finality that stole the breath from Roy’s lungs, she shut the door, leaving him with a bouquet of sunflowers and maybe a broken heart.

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