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dreamwritesimagines · 3 days ago

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Sunshine [9] - Tranquility

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your patience! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Simple days can be calming.

Word Count: 2853

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was very fun.

“I mean to repeat, I do have a hammer at home,” you said, leaning your elbows on the cart as you pushed it slowly and Logan raised his brows.

“Just a hammer?”

“Yeah, I wanted to put up that framed picture of me and Theo so Jamie brought it and then forgot it.”

“Exactly why we’re here.”

Home Depot wasn’t really your favorite place to shop in, you couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been there was. Needless to say, you felt a bit overwhelmed as you looked at the aisles with many tools and construction products, but Logan seemed right at home there, and the simple act of going shopping together -whether it was at a store you were familiar with or not- made you feel all warm inside.

Who knew the aftermath of breaking your bed would be fun as well?

Logan grabbed a pack of what seemed like tiny pieces of metal to put it in the cart, and you looked around, then gasped.

“Let’s get these, they look prettier!”

“Screw anchors?”

You tilted your head.

“Well if you feel that strongly about them…”

“No I mean— that’s what they’re called.”

“They’re yellow, I like yellow!” you said, grabbing the pack off the hook to hold it up and Logan chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we’re going to use them on your bed, they need to be metal. Your bed frame is metal.”

You looked down at the pack. “Oh, these look plastic.”

“Mm hm, they are plastic.”

“Well, where do people use these?”

“On drywall, mostly,” he said. “When you’re hanging—hold on, did Jamie just put a screw into the wall for those frames you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat and took the pack from you to put it into the cart as well.

“Yay!”

“Anything else you want from here?”

You looked over at the shelf, then shook your head and Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to himself as you both went into another aisle.

“So wait, you need to put stuff into the wall to put stuff into the wall?”

“Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Well, otherwise the screw can slip out of the wall when you hang something,” he said. “Anchors make sure whatever is on the wall doesn’t fall on anyone. It’s the same logic with anchoring furniture.”

“None of my furniture is anchored.”

“Babe, you have a mirror in your living room.”

“I just leaned it to the wall,” you pointed out and Logan heaved a sigh, then gently guided you into another aisle.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a drill?”

“Good guess—Logan, we’re not buying a drill!”

He went closer to one of the shelves to grab one to check it. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna use it.”

“I’m gonna use it, I don’t want that mirror to fall on you.”

“It’s on the other side of the room.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “That thing needs to be anchored along with God knows what. Every home needs a drill.”

You scrunched up your face, leaning back to the shelf.

“Debatable,” you said. “Every home needs a medicine cabinet. A drill is just something people in home makeover shows use.”

“What are makeover shows?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’ve never watched those? We’re so watching those, I need your commentary.”

Logan turned the drill in his hand and you bit inside your cheek, trying to fight the urge to jump on him in the aisle of Home Depot. Clearing your throat, you tried to focus and crossed your arms.

“Not that one,” you said and Logan turned his gaze to you.

“Why not?”

“We should get that one,” you pointed at the other drill on the shelf and Logan bit back a smile.

“Babe, that one is 12 volts. This one is 18.”

“Volt isn’t everything,” you said as if you knew what you were talking about and Logan pulled his brows together.

“It is kind of important in a drill—”

“Yeah but Logan, that’s orange,” you said and grabbed the pack of yellow plastic anchors out of the cart to hold it up. “See? They’ll match if we get this one!”

Logan stared at you as if he was trying to find the right words to disagree with you but you pulled your brows together before putting the pack next to the drill so that he could see it better.

“Same shade!” you insisted as you pressed your finger on the drill, looking up at him and the corners of his lips twitched, that fond light shining in his eyes before he nodded slowly, then put the drill in his hand into the shelf to grab the one you were pointing at.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get the matching drill then.”

At first you had been worried about being too much of a bother when Logan said he’d be fixing your bedframe but now, sitting on the couch eating the snacks you got on your way back home, you couldn’t help but notice Logan looked very comfortable and happy to be helping you out. Right after you got back home, he fixed your bedframe but apparently having a drill and a toolbox within his vicinity had awakened something in him that he was now working on what could be “fixed” in your living room.

You could’ve sworn his face had lit up like a Christmas tree when you mentioned you had shelves somewhere that you had been procrastinating on putting up.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” you asked as you popped a piece of chocolate in your mouth and he shook his head, holding the shelf against the wall to draw on where he’d put it up.

“No need princess.”

“I could help, I have some experience in it,” you pointed out. “Not very pleasant experience but experience nonetheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Um, when I was a child, whenever something broke in our house my dad would want to fix it himself,” you said. “And he’d ask me to hold the flashlight and but then scold me for pointing it at the wrong place.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

He looked at you over his shoulder before grabbing the drill and turned it on, making you grimace at the loud noise. He drilled two holes in the wall, then grabbed the plastic anchors and the hammer to nail them in.

You’d had a wet dream like this.

“How did you learn how to do all this?” you asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve been around for some time. You pick up hobbies.”

“And that’s your hobby?”

“I like fixing things,” he said. “And building stuff.”

You sat up straighter, your whole attention on him.

“Okay, so I can add it to the list of things I know about you,” you said with a bright smile. “I’m quite proud of myself you know, growing that list isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

Logan shot you a small grin. “Subtle.”

“Hey I’m just warning you beforehand,” you said, holding your hands up. “You won’t even see me coming and before you know, you’re opening up to me.”

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m too stubborn to quit.”

Logan’s smile was calm before he took a deep breath, then started working on the shelf again.

“It’s just…” he murmured. “A long story, you know? Too much to tell.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly. “I’ve got time. And until then, you can listen to me talk about absolute nonsense.”

“I like doing that, in case it escaped your notice.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“So yeah, I apparently held the flashlight wrong. And there was also that one time—I’m just not the best at fixing things, there was that one time Julie tried to teach me how to change a tire but I ended up convincing her to go get mimosas instead. She’s really good at all that, I swear she and IKEA manuals have something going on that the rest of us human kind cannot understand, she built my wardrobe and I honestly just provided her with cookies—oh my God, Logan!” you said with a gasp. “Do you want cookies?”

A fond smile curled his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“No seriously, I know you liked the chocolate chip ones but I’ve been dying to try this new recipe, it has mint chocolate—do you like mint chocolate? I hope you’re not one of those people who say mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste because I am a ride or die mint chocolate lover, but I think I can also make—”

You were cut off when he strode to you to lean down and kiss you, cutting you off before you let out a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back to look at you better. “I’d love some.”

You beamed up at him and stole another kiss from him.

“So yes to the mint chocolate cookies then?”

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, that loving look in his eye making your heart skip a happy beat.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he said. “Yes to the mint chocolate cookies.”

The more time you spent with Logan, the giddier you felt. You knew that you were supposed to keep yourself in check and play it cool considering everything between you two was very new, but it felt as if since you two had got together, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

Or it could’ve been just mind-blowing sex.

Either or.

“I’m not really much of a TV person.”

“And I respect that, but not having seen Titanic is simply just not acceptable,” you said as you poured the popcorn into the bowl and made your way to the couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you to his lap, making you let out a squeal as you straddled him with a giggle.

“You’re not distracting me this time,” you told him, pecking him on the lips before getting off his lap to sit beside him, still holding the popcorn bowl tight. You grabbed the remote to start the movie while Logan frowned at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“I mean I heard about it,” he said. “It’s romance, right?”

“The best romance in the history of humankind.”

Logan pulled his brows together.

“So low expectations, got it,” he said. “The title suggests it’s not gonna end well?”

“Listen, they may have only known each other for four days—”

“Four days?!”

“Yeah but it was true love,” you said in a solemn manner, nodding your head and Logan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”

“That’s totally how it works,” you said. “It’s like opposites attract wrapped in star-crossed lovers wrapped in a tragic love story. I watched it for like 50 times, it’s my comfort movie. I always cry at the end.”

“Your comfort movie is a movie that makes you cry?”

“Yeah,” you said and grabbed at his arm when turned to look at the screen. “Look, that’s Jack! That’s who Rose falls in love with—wait, Logan, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“So you were around when Titanic happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I remember the news of it, yeah,” he said. “Everyone was shocked by it.”

You took a deep breath to ask him another question but your doorbell rang. You turned your head and stood up but Logan was faster than you, so he walked to the door to open it and as soon as he did, Julie’s voice reached you.

“Holy shit you’re tall.��

“Julie?” you asked as you approached the door and Logan stepped aside. “Hi!”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t…” she motioned at Logan. “It’s just that I texted you and you didn’t answer, and I was on my way here anyway because who just got out of a terrible argument with her ex dickhead of a boyfriend and needed some distraction?”

“Jesus, that asshole again?” you asked and she nodded.

“Yep.”

“Come in!” you said and Julie shook her head.

“No no, I really don’t wanna interrupt your sexy time.”

Logan tilted his head while you shot her a lighthearted glare.

“Come in,” you insisted, pulling her by the arm before closing the door. “We’re watching Titanic. Logan, this is Julie, my best friend. Jules, this is Logan—” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Boyfriend was a big title and you hadn’t really talked about it before, and you actually didn’t know where Logan stood on this whole thing so you decided to play it safe.

“I told you about him,” you ended up saying and Logan extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie said, shaking his hand. “You really are a good looking dude, and I was so right about the lumberjack vibes.”

Logan blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t know how to answer. “…Thanks?”

“No problem.”

“I’m pouring you wine,” you said, making your way to the kitchen with Julie following you, and Logan lingered in the hallway for a moment before going back to the living room.

“Are you sure it’s cool I’m crashing your date?”

You took out a wine glass before pouring some wine in it.

“I’ll be offended if you ask me that again,” you told her and she hugged you, making you smile and press a kiss on her cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to like, buy a baseball bat and threaten him?”

“Nah I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back to take the glass from you. “It’s just fucking frustrating.”

“Screw him, he’s an idiot,” you told her as you held her other hand and you both went into the living room.

“Hey man, sorry about the interruption,” Julie told him, flinging herself on the armchair and Logan shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. No interruption other than me trying to figure out how these two people will have the ‘greatest love story’ in four days.”

“It is true love!” you said, smacking the back of your hand into your palm to emphasize each word and Logan chuckled.

“Yeah alright, sorry. True love.”

“Weren’t you around when this happened?” Julie asked, motioning at the screen and you grinned.

“We share one braincell,” you told her and Julie crossed her arms, looking at Logan.

“Did you meet Thomas Edison?”

Logan looked almost confused. “Uh, no?”

“Good, he was an asshole. Did you meet Victor Hugo?”

Logan paused for a moment, then turned to look at you. “Are you guys all secretly French?”

“No, we just watched Les Miserables one hundred times,” you answered while Julie sighed.

“A masterpiece, if you will.”

“Better than this whole true love in four days thing?” Logan asked, motioning at the screen and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Careful there buddy, you’re on thin ice.”

Logan shot you a grin, making you smile back before you turned to Julie.

“Seriously, what happened with that jerk?”

“Oh you know, the usual drill. He called me drunk, started with begging and then that whole thing turned into him listing every single bad thing about me.”

“He was the one who cheated on you.”

“Yeah and you’d think he’d remember that.”

Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“I can beat him up if you want,” he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made you look up at him in confusion. Julie let out a small laugh.

“You, I like you,” she said, pointing at him before she looked at you. “I approve.”

“Aw thank you.”

“That being said,” she said. “Logan, you seem like a really nice guy but make no mistake, if you upset her in any way, I’ll get the biggest magnet I can find and point it at you so that I can pull that metal skeleton of yours out of your body.”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and Logan’s smile widened as if he was merely amused. “Don’t listen to her. She’s nice to me and terrible to everyone else.”

Julie blew you a kiss and Logan nodded his head.

“Noted,” he told Julie and Julie grinned at him.

“See? You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You heaved a sigh, then grabbed the bowl to hold it out for Julie to take some popcorn. She grabbed a handful, then leaned back to watch the movie while you leaned your head on Logan’s chest, trying to pay attention to the movie. Logan nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your stomach do a happy flip and you felt a smile warm your face before you bit on your lip, then turned your gaze to the screen again.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett #logan xmen #wolverine logan

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mononijikayu · 1 day ago

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wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's younger sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY. You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world.

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties.

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside.

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential.

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste.

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore.

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions.

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things.

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair. Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum.

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!”

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them.

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students.

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice.

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement.

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

“Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice.

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet.

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them.

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply.

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar.

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did.

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.”

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him.

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion.

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught.

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface.

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust.

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.”

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled.

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it.

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync.

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity.

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

485 notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 2 days ago

Text

Sex Positive - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,470 Summary: Y/N goes on a podcast to talk about one thing and one thing only, sex. Note(s): NSFW just because this is just all sex talk, no actual sex, but it is the main topic of discussion. Part SMAU

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Y/N Y/L/N”

She smiles at the sound of her name, adjusting her headphones a bit until they finally seem to sit snug on her head.

“Welcome to the sex positive podcast.”

“Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming on!” Elaine says. “When I reached out, I had hoped you would come on, but was shocked when you said yes.”

“I had to come on. We’ve known each other now for like two years?” Elaine nods at her words. “And yet despite that and this podcast doing so well, which by the way congrats on the new milestone. 250k is insane, and your profession we’ve never once talked about sex.”

“We have not.” Elaine laughs. “Probably because we also run into each other at events and dinners. Not the best place for me to ask how you feel about sex.”

“Well, I should tell you, I am coming on here to actually talk about how much I hate sex.” She says, ending her sentence with an eye roll, as she adjusts how she’s sitting, not even noticing her cardigan slip.

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine nods. “You hate sex.” She then nods to her left shoulder and her eyes drop and she lets out a laugh, seeing the love bites now exposed from the cardigan slipping.

“Like I said, I hate it.” She laughs.

“How is your relationship with sex? I mean, what has your experience been with it?”

She considers for a moment, “I’d say I have a good relationship with sex. It was never a topic that was shied away from when I was younger. My parents both gave me the talk, they made sure that I felt safe and comfortable to talk to them about it. They also never shied away from talking about how they had sex before they were adults, so if I did, they understood. All they asked was that I was safe.”

“And you think that’s helped?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I mean, I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. Which was before all my friends and after that I was the one my girl friends came to for condoms and advice.”

“Was it good?”

She makes a face, “I mean, I think it was as good as two sixteen-year-olds having sex for the first time can be. A little awkward, some fumbling, finishing so quick.”

Elaine laughs, “Y’know that probably is as good as it can get.”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Were you like okay, I had sex this first time, I’ve experienced it, I’m good, or was it like me where you wanted to explore more.”

“Oh, I wanted to explore more. I didn’t have sex again for, I think like another two years. But I did so much self exploring. Just trying to see what I liked, what I was interested in, what I wasn’t interested in.”

“Porn?”

“Yes, there was quite a large amount of porn being watched. I read a lot of adult novels, guides, blogs, really just anything I could get my hands on.”

Elaine nods, tucking a leg underneath herself as she adjusts the microphone to be a little closer. “And this is something I’m curious about, how do you feel about porn? It’s something a lot of people are divided on, a lot of women especially.”

“I like porn. I enjoy it. Either just watching for pleasure or for research.” And she puts the last word in air quotes. “And please people listening or watching, if you see something you like in porn or are interested in, and this applies if you are reading something as well, look it up, read some guides and blog posts about it before doing it yourself. Just be safe.”

“Oh, please be safe. We have our own blog where we talk about different kinks, positions, various things and I urge you, along with everyone else who works on this podcast, to be safe with yourself and others.” Elaine says, addressing the camera before looking back at her. “So, you like porn.”

“Yes. Obviously not all porn is good, there are bad studios, there are overdone tropes, issues with the industry itself with it continuing to promote certain things because it earns them so much money. But I do enjoy it. It’s an industry that is always going to get criticized and hated and it deserves some of those criticisms without a doubt.”

“As a sex therapist, I do try to veer my clients away from porn, most of the time. And that’s mainly due to the acting of it. But it has its place in helping you learn and educate yourself. My issue is when people only look at porn and don’t look into things further.”

“Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s so important to not just take away things from porn but to take things away and expand on what you saw.” She nods.

“And of course I have to ask, what do you yourself like to watch in porn?”

“Hmm.” She thinks. “I think it depends on my mood. I think what I normally go for is something a little more rough. I’ve never really enjoyed watching people have like slow, gentle sex, not unless there’s something else there like overstimulation.”

“So, you like it rough?” Elaine asks.

She laughs, “Yes. It wasn’t something I had ever tried out before though until my current partner.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Really! I can admit that with my current partner, Charles, is where I’ve done a lot of exploring with someone else sexually. We’ve tried out many things.”

“Anything you guys didn’t like?”

“We don’t care for titles or honorifics.”

“You are crushing some dreams with that statement.”

“I know.” She laughs, well aware of the many tweets and things about wanting to call Charles daddy or sir. But it was just something that didn’t work for them in bed. The most was sometimes as a tease, she’d call him Mr. Leclerc and that was mainly to wind him up, not because the word itself was a turn on.

“What about things you’ve both enjoyed?”

“Oh, where to begin.” She teases, the both of them laughing. “Roleplay is one, bondage, edging, overstimulation. And I don’t consider this sex, but it is something we both enjoy a lot, cock warming.”

“That is quite the list.”

“Oh, just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Talk me through some of it. Bondage?”

“Yes. This was something we both had come into the relationship having never done before and wanting to do. We have the actual like rope you're supposed to use for when we do it, though sometimes we have used other things.”

Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “Of course you two have. I feel like if I see you two together, you’re always attached.”

“Pretty much. We both enjoy touch and Charles, despite all the interest in his personal life and how much already is exposed to the public, doesn't mind holding my hand or hugging or kissing me while in public.”

“Was that a worry of yours?” Elaine asks.

“Absolutely.” She nods, fingers interlacing. “I knew he’d at least, when I went to my first race, that he’d hold my hand, but I figured that might be it. And I didn’t want to bring it up since me going to Baku was so last minute for the both of us.”

“I’ve seen photos from that race and I would have never guessed that it was a last minute decision or that you two hadn’t talked about that yet.”

“Yeah, I got on a plane and was there by 11pm on Wednesday night, and the plane tickets had gotten bought maybe six hours before the plane took off. Charles had to send a photo of my ID to the front desk and had a spare key for me waiting since he had to be asleep already.”

“And then the next day, I mean you guys were very loved up.”

She grins, “we very much were. I think Charles knew I was nervous. We hadn’t officially been spotted together and he’s such a comforting person, very calming, so it was easy to not feel anxious with him holding me and pressing a kiss to my cheek every few minutes as y’know a bunch of people were taking photos of me and I’m being introduced to about a hundred people.”

“Which is overwhelming to say the least.”

“So overwhelming.” She nods.

“Though you might’ve liked that, since you’ve brought up overstimulation a few times.”

Her hands come up to hide her face, laughing into them, before they fall back into her lap. “I’d apologize, but I like what I like.”

“So it’s you being overstimulated.”

“Oh, absolutely. I find it very enjoyable.”

“I’ve never actually really talked about overstimulation, what is that you like about it? That you find to be enjoyable?”

“It’s the near constant feeling of too much, it’s so much pleasure just back to back, and everything depending on how you're doing it, can feel just like raw? And exposed? And you don’t think you can orgasm one more time, you just can’t again, but then you can and it feels at least in my experience just so good and then you do it again and again, and every time the pleasure of it just washing over you is even more and more and it’s the only thing you can focus on, everything else just fades away.”

“You make me want to try it.” Elaine laughs.

—

Charles’ head immediately perks up when he hears the hotel door open. “Chérie! How was the podcast?”

She smiles, setting her bag down, before moving over to the couch where Charles is sitting and happily sitting in his lap before Charles can pull her down. “It was good.” She finally says after kissing him.

He hums, “How good?”

She thinks, playfully humming as her fingers run through his hair. “Very good. I think your fans will want to kill me and so will Ferrari.”

He frowns, arms tightening around her. “Ferrari knows that you are allowed to do as you’d like. It is not like with,” He stops himself.

“I know, Charles.” She soothes. “But, they will be upset with me considering me talking about my sex life is talking about your sex life.”

He huffs, obviously not liking it, but he hopes that the podcast will do well, be received well, so at least Ferrari will be forced to accept it because fans like it.

“Did you mention me?”

Her eyebrow raises, “No. I want on a podcast to talk about my sex life so you obviously didn’t come up.”

He pouts at the tease and she can’t resist pressing a kiss to his pouty lips.

“Yes, I mentioned you. Multiple times and by name.”

He hums, moving his hands under her cardigan and top. “What did you say?”

“That we’ve done a lot of things together. That we like certain things.”

When she had accepted the invite it was only after a long talk with Charles, one she had to force, to go over what she could and couldn’t mention. Charles had been fine with her mentioning whatever she wanted. Uncaring that it would be out for the world to see, his colleagues, friends, and even family if for some reason they decided to click on it. He had stuck by that after their talk, though had asked her to keep most of the details of their roleplay and their love of rough sex to a minimum.

And it had been easy to not talk about what kind of roleplay they did and while rough sex had been mentioned twice, they were brief, just establishing her love of it.

“It did make me want to roleplay our favorite thing again.”

His eyes light up at her words.

It wasn’t often something they did, their favorite roleplay scenario, not when it required her to be in a certain headspace to really work, but she wants and craves it so much.

“You want to be my innocent little girl?” His voice has a bit of rasp, his fingers resting on her back, stretching out.

“Yes.” She breathes.

He leans forward, giving her a hungry kiss, his and her last chance to lose control, before pulling away. “Go get ready for me, bébé. I’ll find a place to have dinner.”

---

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula x reader #sins fics

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ivy-elle · 2 days ago

Text

Kissing him out of nowhere

Feat. Scaramouche, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

Notes: gn!reader, established relationship

Scaramouche

Oh, he is fuming. Raging, even, as he storms into his office with a look far more infuriated than when he usually returns from a Fatui Meeting.

You glance up from the couch, where you’ve been immersed in some mission reports. “Good evening to you, too,” you greet him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten you into this sparkling mood today?”

For that, you immediately receive a glare so lethal, an average Fatuus would’ve dispersed on the spot. Your other eyebrow follows.

“Do you know,” he inhales sharply, the air around him crackling up with barely container fury, “what it feels like to be stuck with people whose IQ competes with the temperature in Snezhnaya?”

Scaramouche carelessly throws his coat over the chair, followed by his hat. Every word is laced with venom. “If I have… to endure even one more second with this moronic excuse of a Harbinger-”

Seeing the gravity of his utter misery, you snap your folders shut, watching him pace across the room. He stops and leans back against his desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always my burden to be the only intelligent being in the room?”

“Hey,” you protest. You rise up, slowly making your way toward him.

He doesn’t look up. “Save it. You know precisely who I mean.”

“I might have an idea or two.” You are now standing right in front of him, noting the tense line of his shoulders and his agitated stance.

Scaramouche shakes his head in annoyance, ready to continue his tirade. Yet, the moment he looks up and opens his mouth you seize the opportunity and lean in, swallowing his next words in a quick kiss.

His eyes snap up, but you’re already drawing back again.

The words wither on his lips and his eyes flicker over your face, down to your mouth, and back to your eyes.

He doesn't take it exactly as an unwelcome gesture - simply a not calculated one. He should’ve known better by now.

You hide a satisfied smirk upon his silence and turn to head back to the couch.

But his hand immediately reaches out, grasping your wrist to stop your movement.

“Now,” he warns in a low voice, “where do you think you’re going?”

Scaramouche pulls you back in, and you stifle a laugh.

“We’re not done here.”

Childe

It is your very own kitchen, with your very own kitchen cabinets. With your very own utensils that you make sure to place in such an order you can always reach them comfortably.

So why, you wonder now, are your teacups suddenly on the highest level?

And why, you also wonder, is Childe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that shit-eating smug grin plastered on his face, while he watches you.

“That is not funny,” you snarl, hands pressed against the counter as you turn your head to him.

“Oh, agree to disagree, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, stepping forward to grab your favourite mug. With a satisfied wink, he lowers his arm and holds it out to you. The almighty saviour.

But just as your fingers are about to brush the handle, he pulls back, lifting it way up over your head.

Silence.

You slowly drag your gaze from where your teacup has just been dangling in the air, up to meet his eyes.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“You know I’m always up for that challenge.” He winks a second time. Your eyebrow twitches.

Despite his expectation of you lashing out or cursing him away, you remain perfectly calm.

And yet, it’s precisely this calmness – and the look you give him – that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He swallows.

You take yet another step closer, now close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from your skin.

Childe’s face shifts into a grin. “Oho?”

But it is when your lips brush against his own, that he succumbs to the very nature he is bound to and folds. He immediately leans in.

“You’re playing dirty,” he whispers lowly against your lips.

Your fingers trace up his arm, pulling it down along with your cup. “Is it working?”

Childe swallows again. His other hand wraps around your waist as his eyes darken. “That depends on what you’re trying to achieve exactly.”

Albedo

Your legs dangle down from the counter as you quietly study Albedo while he’s studying some of his research. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration while he reads through a stack of his research paper, checking over his hypotheses. He has one of those certain expressions on– the kind that makes your heart tingle in a very nice way.

Meanwhile, his other hand is resting on your knee, occasionally tracing soothing, invisible patterns that make your skin tingle in a very nice way.

You can’t help the smile blossoming on your lips.

“Just to recap once more- the material is reacting in the way I have predicted, and it also aligns with the experiences and sighting you come across in Sumeru, love. And yet-,” he lowers the paper sheets, looking up with a slight tilt of his head. “I believe I need to gather some more samples to ensure the data’s reliability.”

Albedo withdraws his hand from your knee and places it on his chin with a pensive expression. You could practically see the invisible math equations swirling around his head.

Following your immediate instinct, you lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you press a soft but heartfelt kiss on his lips.

He blinks. His gaze flicker over your face as his eyes soften.

The moment you redraw your hand, his immediately follows, gently wrapping around your wrist.

“Did I say something that fascinating that it earned me this honour?”

Fingers intertwining with his, you smile in a sheepish way. “Nope, just in a particular mood.”

“A good mood, I would hope.”

“Sure.”

Xiao

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that actually something different than Almond Tofu I am detecting in your hands.”

Xiao doesn’t blink, most definitely having sensed you approaching him long before you spoke. His eyes meet yours from the branch of tree he is settled in.

“It was an offer from the chef,” he explains, his tone gruff. Then he adds, a bit quieter. “I am not dependent on some tofu.”

Your lips twitch with amusement. “Are you sure? Could’ve fooled me.”

His time among people and other mortal beings must have really influenced him enormously, because you could swear, Xiao just rolled his eyes on you.

Despite his coarse demeanour, he shifts slightly to make space for you next to him on the branch. You place a foot on a lower branch, using it as a step to pull yourself up right beside him. There you eye the bowl in his hand. “Walnut soup?”

Xiao simply hums, taking another sip.

“It smells delicious. Can I try?”

His face turns to you, eyes flickering from your face to his soup. “Be my guest.”

He offers you the bowl, and just as he’s about to lift the spoon, you lean in, gently placing your lips against his.

Before he could properly register your movement – too distracted by your sudden closeness – you draw back, hiding a smile while he freezes up. “I get it now. It tastes even better.”

Heat rises up Xiao’s neck and climbs up to the very tip of his pointy ears.

As you lean back to savour the masterpiece of an absolute flustered Xiao, the adeptus quickly turns his head back to his food, carefully schooling his expression.

“Audacity of mortals…,” you hear him grumble under his breath. And yet, the rapid beat of his heart and the faint hue of red still lingering on his cheeks tell an entirely different story.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #x reader

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faithshouseofchaos · 3 days ago

Note

So you're looking for franquito requests? I have too many ideas, like it's insane. The things this man does to me I swear 🥰🥰🥰

Well, maybe you could do something like Argentinian non famous reader (not necessarily Argentinian but u know) dating him and nobody knows about her, till one day they both went tired of people assuming he's single n PUM, hard launch. I don't know if I explained this correctly, English isn't my first language so I'm sorry bby 🥺

💛🇦🇷

Hard launch — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Faceclaim — none I left it pretty inclusive for everyone Warnings— none

Fluff

Word count—

Summary— no one knew Franco was dating anyone until he was photographed at a party kissing his girlfriend.

Franco posted to his instagram

Caption— Fue un fin de semana difícil que terminó en abandono, pero tengo ganas de correr en Las Vegas (it was a tough a weekend that ended in a dnf but i'm looking forward to racing in Vegas)

Liked by — Lewishamilton, Lando_Norriss yourusername, and 292 others

Comments

User1– not Franco making goggly eyes at Lando during the drivers parade

User2– you’ll get them next weekend Franco

User3– Franco try not to flirt with everyone challenge failed

User4– I’m surprised that Franco is still single man’s flirts with everyone

Your username— I think you did well today Franco

Liked by Franco

User5– we all saw that right?

User6– oh we saw alright

Y/n posted to her story (private instagram)

Caption— chico somnoliento 💤😴 (sleepy boy)

Comments off

Seen by … Franco_colapinto43 and yourBFF

Yourprivinstagram

Caption— adivina de quién es la casa (guess who’s home)

Liked by Franco_colapinto43, yourBFF

Comments limited—

yourBFF— who’s that funny looking man on my wife’s instagram account.

Franco_Colapinto43– last time I checked I was her boyfriend 🤨

yourBFF— for now 😁

Franco_Colapinto43– what’s that supposed to mean???

————————————————————————

The party was alive with chatter, music, and the occasional burst of laughter. People milled about, drink in hand, dancing in the dim light as the night carried on. Franco was standing by the bar, joking with a group of friends, when his eyes caught yours across the room. You were leaning against a wall, watching the crowd with a slight smile, your arms casually crossed. You always did prefer standing back and observing, letting the noise of others fade into the background.

Franco’s grin widened, and without a second thought, he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you. He didn’t care that people might be watching. He had long since stopped caring about the whispers, the questions, the rumors. It was just you two now, and that was enough.

“Hey,” he greeted, slipping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You having fun?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playful as ever. “You know me, I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Oh, trust me, it’s too late for that.” He pulled you a little closer, your bodies pressed together in the cozy little corner of the room. You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

The laughter around you seemed to fade, the chatter becoming a blur, and it was like the two of you were in your own world for a moment. Franco’s thumb traced the outline of your arm before he pulled back slightly, his mischievous smile never leaving his face.

“What if we stopped letting everyone assume I’m single?” he asked casually, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark.

You didn’t have to think about it—this had been brewing for weeks, maybe even months. You’d both gotten tired of the secrecy, of the constant guessing. You didn’t care about the opinions of strangers anymore, not when it came to him.

“I think it’s time,” you said, your voice light but resolute.

And then, with an ease that could only come from the comfort of being with someone who knew you better than anyone else, Franco leaned in, his lips catching yours in a quick, almost careless kiss.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The room fell silent, people frozen in place. But you didn’t care. You were too busy focusing on the way his lips lingered just long enough to make it clear.

As you pulled away, your hearts still beating in sync, the sound of murmurs around you slowly started up again. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but neither of you looked around. You didn’t need to.

Franco grinned and shrugged, pulling you close again. “Guess we’re not hiding anymore,” he said with a teasing smile, as if nothing had just happened. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess not.”

——————————————

F1.Gossip has posted

Caption— f1 driver Franco Colapinto caught kissing an unidentified woman while at a party.

Liked by— yourBFF, and 19289 others

Comments

User7– WAIT WHAT?!?!

User8– who is she?

User9– con—😭😭—grad—😭😭—ulations—😭😭

User10– I new there was no way he was single

Franco_Colapinto43–has posted

Caption— Bueno, gatos fuera de la balsa, feliz Segundo aniversario, mi amor. (well cats out of the bag happy 2 year anniversary my love)

liked by — lando_norris, Yourusername, yourBFF and 1028 others

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x oc #faiths inboxes📥📨#f1 smau #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #Franco Colapinto x fem!reader #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto social media au #franco colapinto smau

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reasonreblogs · 3 days ago

Text

Same for both. The thing with explaining the reasons with an apology for me is part of the “I recognize how this action was wrong and how I ended up doing this thing that hurt you. I will be making an effort to stop this behavior. I hope you feel okay calling me out on it going forward. I want to assure you that I am aware of what I did, why I did it, that I am going to be working on it, that this hurt you, and that I’m sorry I did this.”

To me the reasons and why it happened shows that they understand and how likely they are to keep doing the same things or if thy ran it, that kind of thing. I’ve had someone who was basically overdosing on Xanax day spent the most horrible shit to me, hitting every insecurity I had about our friendship and after the fact *not* apologize and just said something like “I didn’t reply mean it, I just said crazy shit because I was prescribed a higher dose of Xanax than a person should be.”

Like… okay, I get that… and… it would mean something if you said “I’m sorry, I know it hurt you and I said a lot of things I knew would hurt most. I didn’t know I was prescribed higher dose than I should’ve been until recently and it really fucked with my head in a way that I wasn’t myself.” Instead, I wasn’t sure if she actually meant what she said looking back or if she’d do it again only without her mind being fucked up.

She gave the reason without the apology which made it an excuse and a “so you can’t be upset with anything I said” when she could scroll back and see exactly the things she said to me even if she didn’t quite remember. However, with an apology, I would be able to believe she didn’t mean it and was in a state of mind where she was actively looking to be as hurtful as possible rather than actually believing hat she said. It’s kind of like how some people go turn out to be suicidal try to make everyone around them hate them before going through with it under the notion it’d “hurt less” when it happens. I think of one or two popular youtubers who did exactly that, posting outrageous bigoted shit before disappearing and after hearing they killed themselves, it clicked that’s what they were doing.

As for the telling a story for how thy relate (as I did above actually lol) it’s like… “listen here’s a thing I went through… to me it sounds like what you’re going through, so I hope what I did to get through it helps or if talking to someone who might understand better makes you feel okay talking about this.”

It’s like… it adds some weight or legitimacy to what the person you’re talking to is saying for me. I’d be more likely to take their advice or reflect on how I handle or perceive it vs how they might have. When someone isn’t grasping at all what you’re saying, it turns into defending why you’re feeling and going through rather than being able to just… talk about it.

Idk, been thinking on the nuance of this for a while. I like reasons, I like getting an idea on if this will happen again or not. There’s just a lot of ��depends on the person/situation” tho.

#apologies explanations and reasons #interesting stuff #it doesn’t even have to be lengthy #at work I’ve apologized for shit #and as a follow up to days ago conversations #just saying ‘I’ve thought about it had something explained to me I completely forgot this thing we don’t normally do you were right”#and they do say “eh you don ave to apologize”#but I still want to own that i was wrong rather than have them think I’ll never consider why they say seriously

23K notes · View notes

dadvans · 2 days ago

Text

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

#bucktommy #911 abc #tommy kinard 🤝 me 🤝 loving a good say anything moment #fix it fic #delaney writes

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g1rlken · 3 days ago

Note

I'm so excited you're taking requests for Rupert Campbell-Black!!

Do you think you could maybe fo #15 from your prompt list about him showing up for the reader bc they don't have anyone else?

Idk if just love that trope and I think it works with him.

If you don't feel inspired by that one no worries!

Someone in the crowd

prompt15 Rupert Campbell Black x fem!reader

word count: 5.3k+

warnings: parental neglect, mild swearing, hurt comfort, FLUFF

AN: Ahhhhhhh ANON I love you this is my fav prompt I was initially planning on the same one anyways thanks for platform ing my Rupert obsession you’re the first one

The chronicles of the country side for a veterinary sciences PhD student included more than just animals, main reason she selected a university so far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peculiar animals in their natural state, she came across more than just peculiar animals.

Trespassing loses its meaning for the engrossed researcher, she didn’t realise when she passed the forest to a private estate land whilst following the slow worm. The most advanced high end camera, that Rupert had only seen with those media folks and proper film production. However he assumed the girl in a camouflage jungle vest to be an intern in a tabloid firm, trying to prove herself to be ever so efficient to her superiors by sneaking in to his property for a few pictures. Too naive to realise he could sue her for all her fortune perhaps. Rather an amateur at her job perhaps, she was there to snap him yet her attention didn’t avert to him on his horse before he approached her himself, “Young lady” he cleared his throat sternly “You do realise you’re trespassing here?”

“Oh?” She looked out of her camera lens to the voice that called out her and in an instant she lost sight of the slow worm she was following. “Fuck!”

“And if you don’t delete the pictures and get off of this land right this second I will be suing you for all the jobs you don’t already have.” Rupert threatened, he truly misliked this breach of his privacy to no end. But because the girl seemed unskilled and gullible to her supposedly first job he felt he could let her get off easily.

“I’m not deleting any pictures I barely got two” she said with a heavy sigh, her eyes frantically searching for her subject within the grass again not too bothered by his threat. “And I don’t have any job as it is”

“Oh” he amused, getting off of the saddle of his horse to level with her, “are you one of those fans then? How many times do I have to tell you people-“

“What?” Her attention broke from her subjected reptile to the man this time, “a fan? I don’t even know you…”

“Oh right” he scoffed placing his hands by his hips, “surely you don’t.”

“I truly don’t. I was following my subject for today from the forest lands and I ended up here it was an honest mistake” she explained herself as she opened her camera to show him the pictures, they were all reptiles and not…him.

“You were following a snake?” He asked rather confused and somewhat intrigued as to what would bring her to this.

“It’s not a snake, it’s a is a legless lizard. Anguis Fragilis” she corrected the man, ever so casually as if it were the most common of knowledges to attain.

The man just burst into laughter letting go of the horse chain to contain it, his hand on his chest he could find the joke in the name and the scenario extremely comical. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Y/n felt a bit embarrassed as if she’d said the wrong name so she went through it in her head again and she wasn’t, wrong. It was perhaps like college again, info dumping on the wrong set of people who poke fun at peculiar passions. But the man seemed to be too old to be like those immature college kids who mock others so she was left rather confused “what is so funny?” She asked hesitantly, “it’s rather rare and native to this area we don’t come across them in the city…” she trailed off trying to fill in his boastful laughter with something to feel less uncomfortable.

“Oh is it now?” Rupert asked as his laughter subsided and he realised the girl was an enthusiast in a true fashion. He just found the name of the godforsaken reptile to have a double meaning to it, he thought she made it up but when she got awkward and explained further he realised she wasn’t joking. “My apologies, are you new here?”

“Yes Ive actually moved here for research, I’m studying veterinary sciences for PhD… ” she said still feeling a bit self conscious after he’d laughed like that.

“Anus Fragilis huh?” He repeated trying his best to suppress another set of laughter but he failed at it ever so evidently.

“Anguis…er-slow worm.” She cringed as she picked up on the joke that had him loosing his composure like that. Perhaps she judged him to act his age which he looked so fast. “It’s also called slow worm. I lost him regardless, so I’ll get going. Sorry to bother you.”

“No, no hang on a second darling” he said gripping her elbow as she attempted to leave but as she returned to face him again he left it just instantly. “Since you’re already here, allow me to indulge you in a coffee or so? It would be very disappointing if I don’t get to learn more about…” he wanted to say it, the joke. But the awkwardly offended look on her face of feeling small wasn’t worth it so he kept it to himself “slow worms and legless lizards”

“They’re the same.” She briefed him feeling his ignorance, the PhD aspirant did not seem to have time to entertain his indulgence. “Forgive me but I have to go, I’ve walked too far from my car.”

“Well then allow me to drop you?” Rupert offered with his usual charm which didn’t leave to phase a lot.

Not her perhaps, “It’s not that far” she said curtly. Packing her camera equipment in a hurry. “Thanks. And sorry for trespassing.”

Rupert watched as she hastily packed her lenses and the rolls. Just when he thought he could work on himself to not offend people on first impressions, he generally didn’t do so with ladies so perhaps this was a first. “I’m Rupert Campbell Black” He put his hand forward for a handshake, “Sports Minister.” He introduced himself.

She had both her hands full with her books and camera, which she could rearrange back in the bag to accept his handshake but she’d rather not so she just nodded shortly. “Yes, Mr. Rupert, so nice to meet you.” She said with half a smile, then paced away not even waiting for his reply.

“I suppose I’ll see you around?” He said with his usual grin but she was already pacing away back to the path she’d come from.

That is how the two first met. Not her most memorable nor pleasant interaction but surely intriguing for the minister. The next time he met her, late early evening at a cafe. It took a second to recognise her with her head down in a book but there was enough lighting cast on her against the window where she sat. “Slow worm!” He exclaimed as he approached her causing her to avert her attention from the book to him.

“You…” she trailed off however her tone didn’t match the same enthusiasm as his. “Hi.” She said as he gestured to the chair across her on her table, asking if someone was there but she shrugged and nodded “Please, go ahead” she said being polite, internally bracing herself for another awful interaction.

“I was hoping I’d run into you” he told her leaning forward on the table crossing his arms, “turns out, your little bugger is a frequent visitor of the stable sheds back at the estate.”

“That explains yeah” she nodded closing her book, the size of it gigantic and hardcover it made a small thud, “it eats slugs and snails, spiders too…”

“Wonderful aspect” Rupert complimented, under informed on the subject he didn’t know what to say. “Did you get proper observations for your research?”

“Superficially yes” she nodded, “I’ll run into more of those one of these days.”

“You can always just visit my place again…I would be honoured to help out a bright mind.” Rupert offered leaning back in the chair, unbuttoning his blazer.

“That is so kind of you, I’m very sorry for trespassing that day” she said it again, obviously not friendly enough with him to take him up on that offer.

“Well you could make up for it by telling me your name.” He shrugged as his lips formulated a smile.

“Y/n.” She told him. As the conversation progressed, learning more of him, telling him more about her research and the subjects she’d come across so far. For someone in a vastly different field he was such an attentive listener. She’d told him a lot, about the animals, her thesis, her lectures and sessions, being a TA, moving here.

“And what of your friends?” He asked her over his second cup of coffee in the same conversation because he wanted to keep it going.

“I don’t live on campus so I don’t have roommates to be friends with, then I’m a TA but everyone else is a bachelors and third year student. Had I done college here I’d have those friends…I do have friends from college back home but as of now it’s only my professors.” She informed him, very casual with it but as she formulated the picture in his head it seemed to be a rather isolating experience.

“And what do you do for fun around here?” He asked her to see if it was as isolating as he realised.

“Trespass estates.” She joked with a small giggle, but in truth she did absolutely nothing for fun because there wasn’t anything.

“Greatest hobby ever” he joked back. But as she didn’t follow up with another activity he realised that if he pried about it he’d just force her to admit she led a boring and somewhat lonely life. He wasn’t judging her, she was fresh out of college and had to move a whole place and seemed to have no friends here. Well except for him if she’ll have him. “Are you struggling?”

“Of course not. I love my work, I can easily afford rent too it’s not a problem.” She replied honestly, if only financial was all of her struggles.

“Don’t you think you’d save more if you lived on campus?” He questioned unsure of her choice to stay in a boutique flat in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods.

“My father wouldn’t allow it. He’s a bit of a tone deaf classist that way.” She admitted, rather casually.

“Allow?” He repeated, surprised. He didn’t know her precise age but by her educational status and the looks of it someone in their early twenties didn’t need their father’s permission on how to live.

“It’s just a bit complicated, he wants all of his children to take the right step that is work in our family business, his company. I tried, it’s soul draining and very unlike me” she sighed “So I just extended education.”

“To get far from him?” He perceived, perhaps not the way she saw it.

“—To explore my options. I don’t want to disappoint him when I can avoid it.”

“And is this the way to be?” He asked, his tone guarded and expression curious.

“Perhaps.” She replied, but on the inside she was so hyper aware that anywhere farther from the family business as all the way to be. She didn’t want to distanced from her father nor her family, she may not be the golden child but she wanted him to be ever so proud of her even though she didn’t walk on the road he chose for her.

“Your spirit likes the fight doesn’t it?” It was more of an observation than a question.

“I don’t indulge in self awareness that well” She replied with a bemused shrug and he just let out a low laugh that. And that was her first friendship in Rutshire. To Rupert’s likeness the cafe was another one of basil’s side quests but he visited there less frequently given the bar was his primary. Regardless, Rupert got him too. The prime customer and his newest friend, studied there most of the time because she lived close by and Rupert felt drawn to her company.

She had no other and he found her growing to be his favourite one. He fancied the conversations with her so much, in her absence basil teased him about it. This one afternoon, Rupert visited as his usual time, or perhaps y/n’s usual time which he picked up on but she wasn’t there. “The coffee can’t be that good.” Basil said with a small scoff, as he found Rupert with a disappointed expression in the girl’s absence.

“I’m just trying to reduce the alcohol intake” Rupert said nonchalantly, well aware he didn’t the caffeine he’d been consuming just for the conversations with her.

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee” Basil added with a devious grin hinting at the double meaning joke he was referring for.

“Piss off” Rupert rolled his eyes at the man with a heavy sigh of irritation sitting down at the table, rolling up his sleeves and facepalming. “This is her usual time to come and study here” he mentioned.

“Which you don’t let her do.” Basil said, the entire time indulging the poor girl in conversations and spontaneous outing plans. “She’d have to be extraordinarily brilliant to keep up with her courseworks with all the detours you put her up to.”

“She is extraordinarily brilliant.” Rupert briefed him.

“I suppose you’d know.” Basil shrugged leaning against the table where he was sat, “Does she have a boyfriend?”

Seemingly offended at the mere thought of that Rupert’s expression disgusted, “Of course not!”

“Of course not?” Basil repeated surprised with his affirm expression. “So you are sleeping with her.”

“I’m not sleeping with her.” Rupert emphasised on the word ‘not’ and it was probably the tenth time that Bas had asked him that this moment.

“Of course not” Basil humoured him mimicking his tone when he said that.

“I’m not, it isn’t like that with her.” Rupert tried to explain that to his friend who found that to be such a foreign concept. It was a very strangely unknown and unspecific feeling for Rupert himself too.

“You don’t want to sleep with her?” Bas questioned not believing nor understanding the prospect “she’s rather pretty.” besides he’d sleep with anything.

“She isn’t just pretty Bas, she’s beautiful, a bit too much even on the inside.” He paused “She is precious.” Rupert spoke with such genuine passion that basil had to lay off of the joke he was brewing.

“And what of you?” Basil asked, it was something Rupert hadn’t even questioned himself for well not yet anyways.

“What of me?” He answered the question with a question feigning innocence. Before basil could further explain himself, even though well aware that Rupert understood him. The bells of the door jingled announcing upcoming presence in the nearly empty cafe causing the men to turn at the voice.

“Hello-Hello, Gentlemen!” Y/n exclaimed in the most enthusiastic Sunday morning tone possible but it was a cloudy afternoon on a Tuesday. To Rupert she always sounded like a Sunday morning with her little giggles and all the mannerisms but today she seemed way more lifted with spirits.

“Want to bet a tenner she ran into a coyote.” Basil said as she made her way to their table sitting across Rupert whilst basil was still leaning against the table.

“I bet you a twenty its a pine marten.” Rupert said, he picked up on everything from their conversation. This week she was in search of that specific animal from her list or so, he kept track somewhat subconsciously.

“It’s neither” She said with a smile still plastered on her face as she sat her bag down to the side placing her hands on the table. “I’ve got great news, well not great but perhaps good, great to me.” She went in an adjective discourse and shook her head coming back on track “My professor submitted my thesis to this government honorary publications department and I’m getting an in-kind research grant!”

“The government is giving you money?!” Basil matched her enthusiastic tone leaning forward on the table.

“No, no it’s an in kind grant…as in-they present me with an award but the big thing is that I get policy access, lab space, government authorised datasets…” she explained further with her eyes so lit up Rupert wanted to bottle this warmth of emotions he felt in just seeing her happy like this and drink it like water.

“You are getting an award?!” Rupert said with loud earnest passion for her excelling. “Y/n! That is marvellous news!”

“You fucking genius!” Basil added further, giving her a side hug and kissing the top of her head, giving her hair a ruffle as he walked across the cafe, “this calls for a celebration!”

“Thank you” She replied with a toothy smile. Feeling very heart warmed. Then Rupert took both her hands in his, he looked just as lit up as if it was his award.

“My darling, you absolute mastermind. Your mind is a wonder, y/n I am so so proud of you!” He said, he didn’t have to reaffirm or reassure more so because out of everyone she’d come across, Rupert had been so supportive, a subject and felt so unfamiliar yet he’d reassured and let her know it so constantly that she’d always have him to be cheering so hard for her. “You deserved this!”

“Rupert, that is so kind! Thank you, seriously” she replied with a glint in her eyes he could feel coloured by. Just about on time, basil blasted the confetti cracker he happened to have lying around. He turned the open sign to closed at the door of the cafe and returned to the table, slowly she let her hands out of Rupert’s.

“Didn’t have champagne in the cafe but this should do” Basil said as he presented their table with a small cake.

“You didn’t have to close the place” y/n said with a small giggle as she saw the cake, a sign in red jam crossing out the name ‘Einstein’ and Y/n in its place. Classic Bas.

“Oh please love, I deserve this celebration.” Bas said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, any reason to not work was reason enough.

“Right of course since he worked so hard.” Rupert joked clearly forgetting he owed the man in staying the cafe for him to keep it open just in case y/n might come in. They kept congratulating her over and over again as the trio dug into the cake.

“So when exactly is the award function?” Rupert asked, it was going to be event of the week for him more than it was for y/n.

“It’s on this Friday, I get one visitor pass and my father is flying out to attend it!” She said, ebullient. It did irk him somewhat because he’d wanted to see her receive the award but he knew how much her father’s approval meant to her so he was happy in her happiness regardless.

“That is great news, what did he say?” Rupert asked keeping his disappointment for not being able to see her at bay.

“His assistant put me through in the very second call so he must really be impressed, he asked me about the function and he sounded very positive of it.” She told them about the seemingly brief phone call.

“You have to talk to an assistant to get to your fath-“ basil was quickly interjected with a small shove on the leg from Rupert to take a turn in that observation. Rupert didn’t want it to rain her parade, “It’s so nice he’s coming all this way.”

“He’d probably stay a day or two after that you should meet him!” She added, it seemed as if she was somewhat more joyous with the fact that her father was pleased than the actual award to her name. It was a grey line.

“I would be delighted to.” Rupert said, he would be. At least for her sake despite having his internal doubts towards the man.

The award function was an extremely formal event, you could barely tell apart the professors from the bureaucrats. Rupert could tell the difference easily though, he simply knew the later group, almost all of them. But he wasn’t there for any of those people. Taking his seat at the round table, next to the faces he knew very well but he was way too focused on the happenings of the stage to indulge in small talk. And then there it was.

The lady of the evening. At least for him, her research dissertation was called out and he recognised it was her turn before they presented her name as well. White shirt with several pins of animal welfare and her educational institution. Simplicity and grace, ever so precious. As she received the medal and the award plate Rupert clapped perhaps the loudest, standing up even. The stage wasn’t so far but she didn’t spot him because her eyes were searching another direction and the procession was short lived before she could avert her gaze.

Finally after all the names were done, she was free from the stage back to the softly mingling crowd. “There she is!” The enthusiastic exclamation caught her attention from her lost trance.

Adhering the man in suit with flowers in his hand, surprised and radiated expression, “Rupert?!” She was baffled and so relieved she didn’t understand the later feeling. She rushed to him, their distance getting closer as he opened his arms for her.

“Congratulations, darling” he said bringing her into a tight embrace both of them so joyous, hers was rather infectious. He easily lifted her from the ground out of glee, kissing the side of her face. “You were wonderful out there!”

“When did you get here?” She asked once he put him down and she pulled away yet kept her arms entangled with him. Enough to just see his face, “also how?”

“I’m an MP you thought I wouldn’t be able to get into a government function?” He amused, surprised she did not see it coming, perhaps she wasn’t expecting him but her reaction seemed as if she would rather prefer him. “I got here an hour before yours was announced.”

“I am so glad you made it!” She told him, the effort was so heartwarming to her. He’d came to an event which wasn’t initially his, making more arrangements to even get in for her. She didn’t want to voice it because he’d always reply with such a strange concern as if being loved more than to be sustained wasn’t optional, she wasn’t used to this concern nor sentimental support.

Rupert could tell her kind, wide eyes in a sort of turmoil of something she couldn’t figure out by even herself but he didn’t pry on it, “where is your father?” He asked looking around shortly.

“Oh he…he isn’t here. He could not make it.” She said with a small shrug, that is how casual his absence was to him.

“—How come?”

“Probably his flight, I forgot to notify him about our time zones or so. If he were skipping he would’ve called prior” there was a small hope tugging at her heartstrings trying to believe this wasn’t like the other times. “He would be here anyways, would just be missing the event.”

“I suppose” he replied curtly, being presented with two choices of either being truthful with her of her father’s harsh and uncaring constitution or hold the hope she held out for the man with her. None of the two seemed befitting to him. As the event progressed she introduced him to some of her professors and people that she worked with, he did the same with the other officials that he knew of. She grew tired of the socialising and asked him if they could leave the event, she wasn’t as tired as she was growing disappointed of a man who wasn’t even in the room.

Even though Rupert and her came to the event from a different place and were going back in difference directions it was a given that they leave together. At least to him it was, she’d just informed him she felt like leaving and he stood up in an instant. He was dropping her back to her place because she didn’t driver herself to the function. The two were walking, to his car in the chilly night with his suit blazer draped over her shoulders, flowers and his hand in her hand, he carried her award with her bag for her and a light hearted conversation. Serenity which ran away once they came across a pay phone call booth. “Do you mind if I go make a call?” She asked him, he nodded but he was well aware who that call was intended for.

Rupert leant against the phone stand with the small door of it open, close to her as she pressed the numbers inserting coins. Anxiously awaiting the other line to answer she replied when a voice answered “Hello, this is me, y/n. Did dad leave yet?” She asked, he hated to see her in such distress and was afraid the conversation ought to make it worse. “What? What do you mean—the event, my award he was going to be here for…like he promised.” Rupert could only hear y/n’s side of the conversation but he could pan out the other side, which wasn’t even her father just some office assistant. “Just let me talk to him…please…two minutes perhaps?” It was difficult to watch, begging for the scraps of her father to an assistant. After a few moments the call ended and she couldn’t even stomach the courtesy of a goodbye.

As she walked out of the booth he searched for her to meet his eyes, narrate to him the happenings of the call. “His plans changed” she said but nothing further. He could tell she didn’t feel like talking so he stopped walking and also held her back from the track, pulled her into his arms. Resting his chin on top of her head as he held her, enlacing his arms around her tightly. He could definitely stay like this for rest of the night. Even life? A small voice suggested and he quickly dismissed it as he was pulled back to her, she didn’t feel relaxed in his arms even though she hugged him back and her face so steady, he felt his shirt getting sprinkled with dampness, as if in smallest portions.

“Y/n…” he trailed off pulling away to confirm if she was crying, “are you crying?” He asked as she lowered her face so he couldn’t see it but he leant in her direction to see. “Hey..hey, it’s alright” he pulled her back to him letting her weep onto his chest as he ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand why I feel so bad” she said through her tears, holding onto him like she would fall apart even more if he let go. Perhaps she would.

“It is alright darling just let it out” Rupert said as he continued to sooth her in his arms, trying to provide a present, grounding support.

“He promised me…” she trailed off crying harder, all those events where her father should’ve been present but wasn’t came back to her. Fancy dress competitions at school where the chauffeur that dropped her off would have to attend the show out of pity for the child, birthdays where he would have to be bothered a multiple times to come attend cake-cutting, evidently sad over a test but he simply couldn’t be bothered to ask his daughter if she was alright. So much life spent in I-promise-you-I’ll-be-there. So much disappointment and you’d think one would learn. “I just feel stupid-I thought this time would be different.”

Rupert held her face in his hands “look at me” he said forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are not stupid for what you feel, you are not at fault for someone so detached and irresponsible towards their own child.” He spoke whilst wiping her tears, “he will forever be an incomplete, deficient man for the kind of father that he is. But you my love are beyond him and how he treats you, you’re brilliant and kind and funny and you have a heart big enough to hold a planet. You are going to go so far, your suffrage of his conditional love and inflicted anguish will heal for the better. I promise you that.”

This was a better hope than the one she was always latched onto, hoping that he would change, come around for once. But letting go and a promise for a softer tomorrow seemed so much more beautiful. “But I am so tired”

“You have been so gentle through so much…you must have been tired too. But persevering is constant and you, you always do. There is so much life within you, those around you are infected with it, I know I am.” He confessed, he hadn’t voiced it out especially not like this even to himself but she was more than a lively feeling, more than a chase or a rush for attraction. No. She was life.

Such admission made her heart flutter, she felt the drumming in her ears and it wasn’t the anxious kind. This felt like a sunrise after a good dream, but she had no words for it because her eyes spoke enough and so did his that wandered down to her lips and back to his. Reciprocating the course of gaze when he leant forward, face so close she didn’t move even by the slightest tired of awaiting him to inch to the closest extent she caught a soft grip of his shirt, lowering her gaze right when he crashed his lips onto hers. She kissed him back and it felt heavenly, as the kiss deepened he felt like he had reached there.

Smiles glued to their faces once they pulled away to catch a breath, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear he said “you are not the only one who’s won something tonight.”

“That means I’ve won twice” she said with a small giggle adding to his exaggeration that kissing her felt like a win.

“That isn’t the same.” Rupert corrected her, going in to kiss her again with a slower passion, taking his time letting the sweetness of it linger “for me this is centuries worth of wins.”

—

IVE SO MUCH MORE OF HIS STUFF COMING SOMEBODY SEDATE ME…next his enemies to lovers let me know if you want to be tagged

PLEASE comments are my fuel I am HUNGRY for validation please if you like this please please let me know

#rupert campbell black #rupert campbell black x reader #Rupert Campbell black x you #rupert Campbell black x fem!reader #rivals disney+#rivals #rupert Campbell black fanfiction #rupert Campbell x reader #rupert x taggie #taggie x rupert #declan o’hara x reader #declan o’hara #tony baddingham

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solxamber · 2 days ago

Text

Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia

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bulletsandbracelets · 3 days ago

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Feels like it’s actually more about insecurity, which is maybe more understandable but also really not good?

I’ve never seen a lesbian take issue with someone having a fling with a dude. Maybe those people exist, but it isn’t a purity thing. It’s a control thing. They are afraid that someone who is bisexual is going to lose interest in them, and I think it really fucks them up that the person they are with might leave them for a man.

Still misogyny! The idea that you can’t trust your partner, that they are automatically going to find men attractive and prefer that, it’s all reductive stereotypes. It just comes from a completely different place. Lesbians who date lesbians know their partner is only attracted to women, so they can make sure they only have male friends. They can control for the insecurity in their relationship and the competition they feel.

I might be wrong, but this is more of what I see. Pretty sure it’s the same with bi men and dating. If you struggle to date anyone bi, I’d really examine why. And if it comes down to trust, ask yourself if it is your fault or theirs that you refuse to trust a partner might be honest with you and respect the relationship the same way you will. That isn’t a failing on their part. That’s you putting that assumption on them, and I’m betting your other relationships have been impacted at least a bit by the same behavior.

The funniest thing about biphobia is that when it's directed towards men it's just homophobia and when it's directed towards women it's just misogyny. But the woke kind so it's actually okay

#unasked for advice #but this really does always signal insecurity to me more than anything else #these people have trust issues #and while it’s still biphobia #it is the kind I see way more often

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luvergirl-866 · 1 day ago

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something like love

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, small amount of angst, some hurt/comfort. also kinda problematic paige but i get her

a/n - guess who’s endo cramps are killing her!! that’s right, me! fml. as usual this is unedited but i’ll come back to edit later! also, i changed paige’s step-dad’s name from tim to dean because i remembered that azzi’s dad is named tim and i felt like that would be confusing lol. also, thank you so much for all the fic recs i got! i’m so excited to start working on them :3

They’re ten minutes into the thirty-minute car ride and nobody has said a word. Country music is playing quietly over the radio, and Dean and Amy keep glancing at each other. But the awkward silence is deadly.

Nobody spoke earlier, either. After Paige dropped the bomb. It was silent for a good minute before Dean had coughed loudly and turned back to the car, getting wordlessly into the driver’s seat. Amy stared at them for another minute or so, giving them no clue as to what was going on in her head other than her ears, which rapidly turned bright red. Finally, she’d shook her head and said, “We will talk about this when we get home,” before following her husband into the car.

As soon as they were both out of hearing range, Paige had sagged, and Azzi’d looked over at her, concerned. Usually, she’d lay a hand on her arm but she wasn’t sure if Paige wanted to be touched, especially by her, so instead she’d said, “Remember, we can leave anytime.”

Paige had nodded stiffly. And then, without looking at Azzi, she’d gotten into the car as well, leaving the door open for Azzi to follow suit.

And now they’re on the road, Paige and Azzi sitting in the back seat like two little kids in trouble. Azzi wants to go on her phone to avoid the awkwardness but her parents raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances, so here she sits, stiff and awkward while she rides in this car that smells new and fancy and she hates it.

Chancing a glance over, Azzi sees that Paige is still staring out the window, the same thing she’s been doing the whole car ride, and Azzi hates that, too, because Paige only ever gets quiet when she’s bone-tired or truly upset. And Paige got a pretty good nap on the plane.

Based off the way she acted to Azzi’s words before they got on the road, Azzi’s pretty sure she’s doing that thing where she shuts people out because she’s mad or on the verge of tears or thinking too hard. And when she does this she can get mean, because she’s trying to protect herself, and it comes out all wrong.

She’s always done this, been reluctant to open up about the hard stuff, shut out the people who care about her. She and Azzi have talked about it a lot. She once admitted that Azzi was the first person to get her to actually talk about her feelings. But despite Azzi’s way with Paige, and despite the fact that they just get each other in a way no one else ever has, they still have their flaws. Azzi still doesn’t always know the right thing to say. And Paige still gets mean.

This fact keeps Azzi glued to her seat, thinking sidling closer and trying to comfort her best friend would only end badly. Azzi acts like she has a tough skin but often, the things Paige says when she gets like this cut deep, and it ends with both of them hurt. She’s scared to add a fight between the two of them onto whatever will surely go on with Paige and her parents later. So she stays put, even though every bone in her body is telling her to make Paige better.

Azzi has only managed this for maybe five minutes when she glances over again and notices that this time, Paige’s hand is splayed over the middle seat, fingers tapping anxiously, almost like she’s subconsciously reaching over. And that sight alone is enough to get Azzi sliding over, moving Paige’s hand so she doesn’t sit on it. Dean looks at her through the rearview, but Azzi pretends not to notice.

Paige doesn’t look over when Azzi settles in beside her. But she does reach blindly for her hand before taking it and placing it in her own lap, playing with the fingers nervously. Azzi breathes in relief. Paige hasn’t rejected her outright—she can’t be too upset. At least not yet.

They sit like that for the remainder of the ride.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige gives Azzi’s hand a squeeze before subtly shaking herself out and exiting the car. Azzi follows, afraid to be alone with Paige’s parents for even a second.

Before Paige can close the door, Amy calls, “Bring your bags into your room, Paige. And when you’re done come down and talk to us in the kitchen.” There’s a weighted pause. “Alone.”

Paige doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut. Azzi winces.

Azzi doesn’t say anything while Paige opens the trunk, or when she starts aggressively pulling their things out, or even when she slams the trunk shut. No, Azzi keeps her mouth shut, wanting to allow her best friend to seethe in peace, but when Paige slams into her shoulder when she passes her, Azzi doesn’t want to let it slide. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?”

“Get your bags,” Paige responds gruffly.

Okay, so it’s gonna be one of those times. Perfect.

Despite not wanting to, Azzi does as she’s told, gathering her bags and following Paige to the front porch. She tries not to think about how usually Paige would’ve carried her things for her.

Paige opens the door without a word and they walk inside. The house is nice, open, smells of cedarwood. Paige doesn’t give Azzi a chance to look around, though, instead walking briskly to the staircase, lugging her shit upstairs with impressive strength, and Azzi thanks God she’s in such good shape because she’s practically jogging by the time they arrive at a room at the end of the hall.

“Paige—“ Azzi starts to stay, but Paige cuts her off by throwing her own backpack off her shoulder and dropping her suitcases, as if she’s trying her hardest to make as much a ruckus as possible.

Azzi places her things much more nicely on her usual side of the bed, eyeing Paige cautiously the entire time. It’s the only reason she’s able to catch her before she leaves, anticipating her movements just like she does on the court and darting between her best friend and the door, blocking her.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Paige looks her in the eye, and there’s fire there. “Move, Azzi.”

“No.”

“God,” Paige sighs, “seriously, don’t piss me off. Get outta my way.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi repeats, keeping her feet planted.

Paige stares at her and then shakes her head. “Why are you being so fuckin’ annoying?”

“Don’t,” Azzi says, trying to stop her before she gets too fired up, but it’s already started.

“No, Azzi, you don’t,” Paige snaps. “I knew you were gonna get like this, do your fuckin’ peace and love shit that you think will solve everyone’s fucking problems.”

Azzi swallows hard. It’s been years since Paige went on a rampage like this, and she opens her mouth to stop her, but is quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t solve anything, dawg. It actually makes shit worse, because it’s so motherfucking annoying having you acting like everything’s fine when you don’t even know.” Paige shakes her head, taking a step towards her. “And that’s the thing, is you really don’t know but you wanna pretend like you do. You don’t know what it’s like to have your mom fuckin’ leave you for some fuckass guy, for her to have new kids outta state and raise them to be hateful just like her. Just like him.”

At this point, Azzi has tears in her eyes, and she attempts desperately to swallow them down. “Did you forget that my dad fucking left me when I was a baby? I’ve never even fucking talked to him, Paige. He doesn’t want shit to do with me.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” Paige sends her a withering glare, so different from the way she usually looks at Azzi. “You have Tim. You have your mom and your brothers and they all love you so fucking much.”

“You have your dad!” Azzi responds, throwing her hands in the air. “You have Drew, you have Alora!” A tear escapes, against her will, and she wipes it furiously away. “You have me, Paige,” she says, more quietly now. “I love you so fucking much. So you don’t get to take this shit out on me and say mean things to hurt my feelings. That’s not—it’s not fair.”

As soon as she sees the tears welling in Azzi’s eyes, Paige softens, her shoulders slumping, eyes turning on her with guilt rather than venom. “Az, don’t cry.”

For some reason, this makes Azzi more mad, and she turns away to face the door, always having hated crying in front of others. “Well if you say mean shit to me, I’m gonna cry, Paige,” she mumbles, though there’s not much fire to her weak, shaky tone.

“Hey, no, you’re right,” Paige reaches for Azzi’s shoulder, trying to turn her around, but the tears have started now and they’re not going to stop anytime soon so Azzi stays turned firmly away. “Azzi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Paige cuts herself off on a sigh. Her hand falls off Azzi’s shoulder, and for a second Azzi thinks she’s going to walk away, but then a pair of arms wrap tenderly around her waist and Paige’s chin is wresting on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I was wrong for that, I shouldnt’ve said any of that shit.” When Azzi doesn’t respond, instead burying her face in her hands to try and hide what she’s sure is an ugly cry, Paige squeezes her tighter. “Azzi, please don’t cry, I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, for real. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so scared about my parents and I took it out on you, I fucked up.”

Azzi nods into her hands, taking a deep breath to try and stop the embarrassing flow of emotion. “I know, Paige,” she tries, but it comes out sort of as a whimper and this only makes Paige circle around to stand in front of her, full-on hugging her now, burying her face in her neck and rubbing her back soothingly.

They’re silent for another moment before Paige says, “I’m serious, Az. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Azzi knows this, fundamentally, but there’s still a part of her that sort of cracked at hearing her best friend tell her that she was annoying, that her efforts to help always fall flat. “You shouldn’t have said it, then,” she stutters, letting Paige hold her close even as her face doesn’t come out of its hiding spot.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. You’re the only person who can ever make me feel better and I—fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, I can’t believe—I never wanna hurt you.” Paige lifts her head out of her neck to nuzzle into Azzi’s hair, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “Never wanna make you cry.” She plants another kiss there, and Azzi’s breath hitches. From the crying or from something else, she doesn’t know.

Sighing shakily, Azzi finally pulls her head out of her hands to look up at Paige, placing her hands at her chest almost as if she’s about to push her away. She’s sure her mascara is ruined by now but she can’t bring herself to care too much. “It really hurt when you shoved me outside, too.”

A pained expression flits over Paige’s face, and she nods, looking almost sick. “Fuck. I’m—I’m sorry, Azzi. I’m so sorry. Is your arm okay? Does it still hurt?”

Azzi can’t take the guilty look on Paige’s face and shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem to relieve much of anything.

Breathing deeply, Paige closes her eyes and then leans her forehead against Azzi’s, bringing her hands up from her waist to stroke over her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, and Azzi’s knows that the nickname wasn’t a slip-up this time, wasn’t just a habit from their pretending. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

And with that, Azzi isn’t mad anymore. Her feelings are still hurt and the things Paige said are still going to replay in her head for quite some time, but at least for now, Azzi just can’t be mad. Because Paige is going through something she could never imagine going through.

“I’m sorry, too,” Azzi breathes, and Paige rears back, but before she can protest, Azzi says, “about your parents. About this whole…situation.” She looks down at her hands on Paige’s chest, and, deciding she won’t be needing to push her away anymore, she slides them up to her shoulders. “It’s shitty and you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position.” She shrugs, swallowing back the last couple tears that threaten to fall, trying to regain at least some of her composure. “I’m going to be here for you, okay? I always am.”

Paige nods. “I know you will.”

“And that means,” Azzi goes on, “you can’t do this again. You can’t take it out on me. You can’t push me away. Because that makes it really fucking hard for me to help you, and I want to help you.”

Paige nods again, more solemnly this time, moving her hands back to circle her waist. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m so sorry for—“

Azzi holds a hand up to Paige’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Okay, stop. I accept your apology, I promise. Just, show me you’re sorry and don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige says. “‘Course.”

“Good.” Breathing mostly even now, Azzi pulls Paige in for another hug.

With a heavy sigh, Paige hugs her back. “We’re in it together, hm? From now on, together.”

Azzi rests her cheek on Paige’s shoulder, the weight of her arms around her, the feeling of her skin and bones, so familiar. “Yeah. Together.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look at her, and when Azzi reciprocates, she’s uneasy to find that Paige is giving her that same new look. The perplexed, maybe enthralled?, almost worried look that has taken over her face more often than can be explained ever since the first time after their kiss. Azzi really wants to work out what it means.

But, as always, Paige corrects herself and it’s gone as fast as it arrived. “We’re good?”

Azzi nods, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah, P. We’re good.”

—————————————

Paige has been downstairs with her parents for nearly an hour.

From what Azzi can hear from her spot at the top of the stairs, it doesn’t sound to be going too well. The three of them keep going from yelling to whisper-yelling to yelling again, and Azzi swears Amy has cried like five times at this point.

When Azzi hears Dean say, “We just don’t allow sinners in this house, Paige,” and Paige snap back, “Do not use God against me right now!” Azzi figures it might be time to intervene.

Trying to come up with something quickly, she pulls out her phone and dials Paige’s number. She hears Paige’s phone ring downstairs, and the three of them go quiet before Paige says, “Just—one second,” and then there’s a click on the other line and she’s answering. “Um, hi?”

“Pretend I’m your dad,” Azzi says, hoping she’s not on speaker.

“What?”

“Just pretend I’m your dad, Paige. Seriously.”

“Uh, okay.” The line gets a little muffled and Paige says, “It’s dad.” Azzi can hear both Amy and Dean let out audible groans downstairs.

“Okay, now tell them that I—your dad—am offering to fly you home.”

“I…wha—“ Azzi can tell Paige wants to argue but can’t with her parents right in front of her, so instead she sighs and the line goes muffled again. “He’s, um, he’s offering to fly me home.”

Azzi only has a second to hope and pray that Amy shares Paige’s competitive nature before Amy is saying, “What? You told him about this?”

“No,” Paige answers, “he just knows how you’re like now. And he wants Azzi and I to have a good summer, not a shitty one with shitty people.”

“If you want to go back to your dad’s, go,” Dean says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. Maybe this won’t work.

But then, bless her evil, horrible soul, Amy is stepping in. “No. Absolutely not. I will never hear the end of it if we send you to your father after inviting you over. We just…” Amy sighs, and Azzi thinks she can hear her start crying again. “We want what’s best for you, Paige.”

It’s silent for a moment. And then, “Let me be happy, Mom. Let me see my siblings. Let me and my girlfriend have a good trip with y’all.”

Dean interjects. “We really don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

“I don’t care,” Paige replies viciously. “I love Azzi. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fuckin’ girl. I…” Paige pauses, quite abruptly, and Azzi wonders if something happened. But then she hears a heavy inhalation and a quiet, “I love her, Mom.”

Azzi knows it’s for the act, but she can’t help the way her stomach somersaults, hearing the words she’s always wished Paige would say.

“And it doesn’t matter what you think of it,” Paige continues. “I’m happy. My faith is strong. And what goes on between me and God isn’t your fucking business.”

“Language,” Amy says immediately. But then it’s silent for another weighted moment and Azzi can imagine Amy and Dean sharing that knowing, judgmental look of theirs. Her heart races while she waits for a consensus, and she’s sure it’s 100 times worse for Paige. But after a few moments, Amy says, “Tell your father that you’re staying here with us. Your siblings will be home tomorrow morning. The four of us adults have a reservation at a restaurant tonight, and we’re all going to go.”

“Mom—“

“We will try,” Amy sighs. “Azzi’s a nice girl. We will—we’ll try.” There’s something tired in her voice when she says, “Right, Dean?”

No answer. But Azzi can imagine him nodding gruffly, and a moment later, with no more words from any of them, Paige appears at the bottom of the stairs. She startles a little when she sees Azzi sitting there at the top.

“Hi,” Azzi says sheepishly, finally disconnecting their call. “I was eavesdropping.”

Paige stares at her, and then starts climbing the stairs, a small smile overtaking their face. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I told you I would,” Azzi replies, waiting for Paige at the top. “So. Dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Paige gets to the second-top step and stays there, so she’s just a little shorter than Azzi.

“Dinner as a fake lesbian couple with your homophobic parents,” Azzi clarifies, and Paige laughs nervously.

“Uh-huh,” she responds. “I think we needa nap before that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi agrees, pulling Paige up to stand with her. “That is an amazing idea.”

——————————————

Azzi is rudely awoken to none other than an old Tyler, The Creator song blasting through the tinny speakers of Paige’s phone. Azzi groans, and she blindly reaches out for Paige to turn the damn thing off, but her hands only find cold bedsheets. Annoyed, Azzi cracks her eyes open and tries desperately to find Paige’s phone, realizing in the process that Paige’s side of the bed is cold. Strange, considering they still have two hours until dinner.

Finally, after probably thirty seconds of this stupid song playing over and over again, Azzi finds the phone tangled up in the bedsheets and slams the off button. It’s sort of pointless, though, because now she’s very much awake and will not be going back to bed.

She sits up in Paige’s bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. The sun is shining through the curtains, reflecting off the mirror above the vanity and showcasing the off-white walls, the pink door to the adjoining bathroom—which Azzi now realizes is in use, the sound of the shower muffled through the door. She hadn’t noticed before because Paige isn’t awfully singing to some Mariah Carey song. Other than the water, it’s dead quiet in there. She must be nervous.

Fiddling with the pink sheets, Azzi feels nervous, too. Usually, merely being in Paige’s space comforts her, but this room—it doesn’t feel like Paige. It doesn’t smell like her, and it’s too pink. There’s no purple at all, actually. And the vanity—Paige has never known how to do much else other than mascara. In high school, she needed Azzi to tell her what concealer was for, and to teach her how to curl her lashes. She certainly wouldn’t have use for an entire vanity dedicated to makeup. The walls are also decorated with cringy, sort of Bible-thumping quotes and paintings of flowers. There’s not a single basketball poster.

No, this room isn’t Paige at all and Azzi feels an ache in her heart, thinking about how out-of-place she must have felt whenever she came to visit as a kid. How out-of-place she must feel now.

Without Paige to talk to, and without her room to comfort her, Azzi settles for laying on Paige’s side of the bed, burying her face in the blankets, and there she is—vanilla, like her hair products, and lavender, like the lotion she wears and the linen spray she uses, because it calms her down.

Azzi thinks she just might fall back asleep, enveloped in Paige’s scent, but then the door to the bathroom opens and steam billows out just before Paige does, wrapped in a towel, hair wet down her shoulders. Azzi only has a second to ogle the water drops adorning Paige’s collarbones before she’s spotted, and Paige gives her a curious look. “You still sleep? I left my phone here so the alarm would wake you up.”

“Yeah, no, it did,” Azzi says, sitting up quickly, before she looks like a weirdo snuggling up in Paige’s spot. “Just tryin’ to hype myself up for dinner.”

Paige gives her a commiserating look. “Me too. I’m shitting my pants, for real.”

“That why you couldn’t sleep?” Azzi asks, stretching out her back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Paige hums, bending down to rifle around in her suitcase. “I’on even know what to wear. Apparently it’s some fancy restaurant but I’m not wearing a fucking dress.”

Azzi laughs at that, lifting her hands when Paige shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m serious, dawg! And it’s not like I brought a suit or nothing.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Azzi says, standing up. “Just wear jeans and tuck a t-shirt or something. You’ll look cute no matter what.”

Paige straights up and gives her a cocky grin. “You think all that?”

“Chill, P,” Azzi rolls her eyes, shoving Paige’s shoulder a little.

“What were you doing on my side of the bed, anyway?” Paige asks, and Azzi can’t help the way she freezes. She’d thought Paige hadn’t noticed.

Trying to cover her reaction, she shrugs casually. “I didn’t know you owned the right side of the bed.”

“Nah, we’ve always had our sides,” Paige shakes her head, taking a step closer. “Why was you all cuddled up in mine?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Azzi says, trying for sarcastic but she can’t even really make eye contact, “maybe I rolled over or something.”

“Please. You don’t move in your sleep.”

“Maybe I do. You don’t know.”

“I think I’ve slept with you more often than I’ve slept alone,” Paige scoffs, taking a step even closer so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. “I know damn well.”

“Okay, seriously,” Azzi says, taking a small step back and stumbling when her thighs hit the bed, “go get dressed, you weirdo.”

“Mm,” Paige says, pretending to think about it. But before Azzi can move away, she grabs her waist and they both fall onto the bed while Paige starts to tickle her like crazy.

“Paige!” Azzi screams, laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. “Get—off, oh my God!”

Paige is laughing right along with her, and it’s a miracle her towel hasn’t dropped yet. “Tell me the truth!”

“What the…” Azzi giggles and squeals when Paige goes for her armpit, “fuck!”

“I won’t stop ‘till you admit it!”

“Okay, fuck, okay!” Azzi pushes Paige off her, and Paige lets up just enough for her to gasp and say, “It smelled like you, okay? The sheets, they…” Paige has stopped completely now, staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her stupid face, “they smell like you.”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, “and you missed me so much while I was in the shower that you needed to smell my sheets?” She jabs her one more time in the ribs, making Azzi shriek, before rolling off her. “You lil creep.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Azzi insists, even though that’s exactly what it was like. “Now, seriously, go get dressed. You got me all wet.”

What Azzi means by that, of course, is that Paige’s damp towel and sopping hair had transferred to Azzi’s own clothes and hair. But Paige can’t be normal about anything, so she looks over and grins slyly.

“Don’t,” Azzi sighs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Paige says, sitting up in bed and pulling Azzi up with her. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. I know I make a lotta girls wet.”

“Stop being weird,” Azzi says, as Paige bends down once again to pull an outfit from her suitcase.

She begins walking back to the bathroom. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by tickling,” Paige calls over her shoulder. Just before she closes the bathroom door behind her, she says, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you after dinner, mama,” and winks at her.

Azzi’s shoe hits the door just as it clicks shut.

—————————————

They drive to the restaurant in silence.

It’s similar to their car ride from the airport, though it is a little less tense than before. Paige isn’t fidgeting too much beside her and her parents aren’t giving each other looks the entire time. That’s gotta be a good sign.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy and Dean start chatting idly, Paige and Azzi trailing behind when they walk inside the fancy building and give the hostess their reservation.

It’s only when they’re finally seated that they are addressed.

“So, girls,” Amy says, her voice all forced cheerfulness, “what looks good?”

“I dunno,” Paige mumbles, and Azzi kicks her under the table before saying, “Have you guys ever been here before?”

Amy looks a little startled at Azzi’s voice, but she recovers quickly, looking over at Dean with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah, we come here sometimes.”

Azzi smiles politely. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Um,” Amy says, and then she sort of jerks and Dean winces, and Azzi’s sure Amy has also just kicked him under the table.

Apparently well-trained, he speaks immediately. “We love the spinach ricotta.”

Azzi hums, then nudges Paige. “That sounds good, right?”

“Uh…” Paige looks like she wants to be difficult, but then she sees the warning stare Azzi is giving her and straightens up a little, “yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wanna share?”

Paige sighs, but luckily it’s barely audible. “Yeah, sure. Let’s share.”

Azzi leaves herself out of the conversation after that, letting Paige answer her parents’ conversation starters. When the waitress comes to take their orders, Paige gets a glass of wine for the both of them. Neither of them really like wine, but it seems classy enough and it might take the edge off just enough that they can actually get through the night unscathed.

It’s not until their dinner arrives that Azzi is addressed again.

“So, Azzi,” Dean says, out of nowhere, “How’s the knee?”

Azzi’s hand goes subconsciously to her surgery scars. “Doing better. PT’s been going good.”

“Good, good.” He leans back in his seat, and Azzi senses trouble. Something about the way Paige protectively rests her arm across the back of Azzi’s seat makes her think she senses it, too.

“You get injured a lot, huh?” He asks.

Azzi sort of hates the way her face gets hot, hoping it doesn’t show up on her brown skin. “I’ve torn my ACL twice, yeah.”

“And your meniscus, right?” he prods.

Without really noticing it, Azzi looks over to Paige, and that’s apparently all Paige needs to jump in. “Hey, let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, scoffing. Amy is looking between the three of them nervously. “It’s hard not to talk about. Azzi, you don’t even play basketball at this point.”

“Um,” Azzi replies, her instincts telling her to get hot-headed but with the way Paige is buzzing beside her, she’s gonna need to keep her cool.

“What the hell?” Paige says, her hand going from the chair to Azzi’s shoulder. She looks at Amy. “Mom, you said this wouldn’t happen.”

“Your father is just asking a few questions—“

“He’s not my fucking dad!” Paige exclaims, and Azzi jerks as she’s pulled into Paige’s side. “I already have a dad! He raised me, he loves me, Mom, and he’d never say this shit about Azzi.” Angrily, Paige stands up, tossing a few bills onto the counter and helping Azzi to stand beside her.

“Sweetheart,” Amy says, reaching limply for her daughter while Dean sits beside her looking far too smug. “Paige, where are you going? We’re your ride.”

“We’ll Uber,” Paige responds, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. “I’m not gonna make her sit through your bullshit because you don’t know how to act like a decent fucking human being.”

“He was just asking—,” Any starts, sounding exasperated, but Paige cuts her off.

“You know what he was doing.” She glares at Dean, who shakes his head, smirking. “We’ll go back to the house,” she sneers. “But if this doesn’t change by tomorrow we’re leaving.”

And with that, she takes Azzi hands and leads them both out into the night.

—————————————

Paige keeps it together until they get to the house.

As soon as they’re stepping through the door, she turns away from Azzi and leans down to untie her shoes. Azzi does the same, but she doesn’t miss the sniffling sounds coming from her best friend.

Paige refuses to look at her when they start heading upstairs, and she tries to make a beeline for the bathroom once they close her bedroom door shut behind them. But Azzi stops her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “P?”

Another sniffle. And then a quick wipe at her face before she’s turning around, trying to look nonchalant but her eyes are red and her lip is trembling. “Yeah?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, and Paige crumbles, hands coming up to her face as she starts crying.

Azzi steps forward to hug her, pulling her down to hide in her chest. “I’m sorry, P. I’m so sorry, this—this sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige replies, voice all small and muffled in a way that makes Azzi’s heart hurt. “I thought they were gonna try…I wouldn’t have taken you out with them if I knew…”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Azzi responds, running a hand through Paige’s hair. “I didn’t mind, really. I’ve heard worse.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Paige just cries harder. “Fuck, Az, you shouldn’t have to do this.” She lifts her head up to look at her, and Azzi absently wipes her face. “This sucks. It’s the first week of summer and I—I was shitty to you and now my parents, and I—“

“Paige,” Azzi says sternly. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t handle it. I can handle it. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

Paige nods, sniffling again. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, P,” Azzi says, and Paige winces, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m okay,” Paige insists. “Really. As long as we do this together, I’m okay.”

She straightens up like she’s steeling herself, and Azzi thinks maybe she should do the same.

This is only the first day of their two-week stay.

It’s going to be a long trip.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #fake dating #paige buckets #the people's princess

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housecow · 3 days ago

Note

Have your family or friends made any comments about you gaining so much weight? I mean, your weight gain is crazy. Also, I would like to ask, how has your life changed since you started gaining weight?

no comments—my family and friends are all wonderful, amazing people and would never comment on that sort of thing, lol!!!

it hasn’t changed too much…? i mean. i don’t fit into any of my old clothes and certain things are harder now, but i haven’t reached a tipping point yet 🤭

#i think it does shock some ppl that i’ve never gotten comments #but like. the only people who would say shit either don’t respect you or are generally not good people #i wouldn’t keep people in my life that said smthn backhanded #also this is like a weird thing to say but if ppl know you’re smarter than them they won’t say anything #at least that’s my experience LOL #like if they wanna get really mean talk about my crippling indecision and inability to commit to a single life path or career #i’m sure i’ll get some concerned comments once i reach 400 tbh #but they’ll be very nice about it god bless #and i hope to have mh feeder here so he can tease me abt it later #talk #ask

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livbedum · 2 days ago

Text

the greatest chapter four

it girl!reader x drew starkey smau

summary what are the odds?

previous chapter

DREW STARKEY SENT YOU A MESSAGE

block delete accept

sorry about everyone ‘spawning’ in your comments

ahhhhhhahaha no it’s fine! ahaha

but it is because we’re all fans of you. if that helps!

ahh that’s so insane! thank you so much<3 me and

my friends LOVE outer banks:)

that means a lot. we love knowing people love

it as much as we do!

i swear me and kaylor talked about it all

the time if we could😭

maddie was the same way with love island😂

she got a bunch of us to watch it with her

good thing she did

hahaha! i luvvv her

how’s it being home now? you were there awhile

i missed my bed!

but i’m really surprised at how much support i have rn

yeah it definitely seemed like you felt alone in there

despite having leah, ree, and jana? yeah. i did lol

well you’re home now… what are you planning to do?

i have to be in nyc in two days to film😖

so that first, and then focus on my content

the reunion?

yeah we’re filming on the 14th soooo excited

jana has reciepts we been saving JUST for this

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

who are you ladies coming for?

haha yes i’ll be there for the whole week

jana got me and i got leah

so i’m coming for ethan’s funk ass

jana is going to call out andrea

pretty sure liv said she’s got my back on that too

yeah… that ethan guy sucks

i’ll be watching to see how you go about that one

oh! well let it be known i’m usually much more

graceful than i’m going to seem during the reunion

i’m sure you’ll handle yourself just fine

clocking ethan will actually possess my body…

u should be worried just a little bit

haha if somebody has to it should be you

maddie always loved when you got into it with him

he did my girl SO wrong how could i not😭

so did you watch it all back?

nay and i did whenever we got back!

we stayed at my house for the weekend and

binged it all, writing down the important

shit to bring up at the reunion

how was that process?

i can’t even watch myself act, so i can’t

imagine watching me go through what you did.

uhhhh ahaha yeah… it was rough

that’s why it took the whole weekend tbh

i bet it was difficult reliving everything

that on top of seeing my best friend’s from

a different pov definitely sucked ass

at least you’re home now! you can move on

that’s the plan. the show didn’t work for me, but it

turns out friendship island is much much better

yeah you seem to have found a good group

the best haha!

now it’s on to bigger n better

that’s the only way to go about it i think

read Sunday

yourusername posted a photo!

liked by korde1ll , madelyncline , drewstarkey and others

yourusername back in nyc with my best friend<3

tagged yourbestfriend

view all comments

username ahhhhh im so excited for the reunion!

↳ username PLEASEEEEE I NEED IT NOW

username so glad y/b/f was in charge of ur ig when you were in the villa she kept us feddddd

username my favorite og villa girlie

yourbestfriend and ur never leaving me again

↳ yourusername maybe if u came to boston more u wouldn’t hate it as much

username hate knowing that u n leah live on opposite sides of the country

drewstarkey hmmm

username city girl winninggg

username i can’t remember a time i wasn’t thinking about you 24/7 if i’m being honest

madelyncline 😍 prettiest girl ever

↳ yourusername actually crazy coming from u

username okay when did obx get here?

username i just knowwwwww u and jana are coming to the reunion with AMMO

↳ yourusername baby, we’re coming in correct i promiseee

username ok so r u like going to post a yt video now that ur home? been missing ur vlogs like crazy

↳ yourusername LMAO u clocked me🙂‍↕️ yes videos are coming soon i swear

username just a girl wishing to meet y/n

leahkateb c u tmrw bb

↳ yourusername crying from excitement tbh

oliviaa_walker okay so we’re getting dinner tn

↳ yourusername yes pls n thx

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

↳ this is actually so sus after ur lil comment

hello again

haha! that was my way of saying i’m

also going to be in new york i get there

tomorrow actually!

oh! ahahaha what are the odds lol

seems like i would have some free time too

haha i will too since i’m making a whole

weekend out of it with my best friend

let me know what you’re up to?

yeah for sure ha!

ISLAND GIRLS🥥🌴

kaylor baby🍰

okay but what r u guys wearing?

liv🖤

real question is:

is y/n bringing a date

y/n🪩

idt it’s that kind of event babe

oh nvm gtg

naynay🤍

LMAO pls tell me y’all kept talking w eo

kaylor🍰

ohhhhhh so you guys have been talking

leah boo🐴

and she left him on read!

naynay🤍

y/n no u didn’t

ree💓

be so fr bitch

liv🖤

WHAT

y/n🪩

😶😶😶😶 hehe no…

leah boo🐴

lyin ass

kaylor🍰

wait what! noooo why would u do that??

y/n🪩

anyways i’m wear a black floor length

dress and evening gloves gtg!

an my giggly girl just geeked drew dms her

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @willowpains @percysley @rrosiitas @nellyboosworld @ethanthequeefqueen

#it girl!reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey #love island usa #social media

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hoe4hotchner · 3 days ago

Note

Hey can you do more of Aaron x non bau rich fem!reader. Like maybe with jack

ANON!!!! I’m just out here living my rich stepmom life now, okay? Jack is so cute!!!! I swear I’m weak for domestic Hotch | WC: 423

Inside the living room, you sat on the floor, surrounded by colorful art supplies, while Jack busily worked on his latest school project. The grand space, often reserved for elegant soirées and refined gatherings, had been transformed into a cozy art studio for the day, with large sheets of paper spread out, and markers and paint scattered everywhere.

Jack, his little face scrunched in concentration, held up his creation for you to see. “What do you think?” he asked eagerly, showing off a drawing of what appeared to be a dragon, flying over a castle that looked suspiciously like your home.

You smiled warmly, leaning closer to inspect the details. “It’s perfect, Jack! I love how fierce the dragon looks. You’re getting really good at this. I'm sure your teacher will be impressed with your skills and give you a gold star for the fairy tale topic!” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

Jack beamed at your words. “I think Dad’s going to like it, too,” he said, glancing toward the doorway where Hotch had been watching the two of you quietly, his expression soft.

Aaron’s voice cut through the gentle ambiance. “I’m sure I will,” he said, walking into the room and joining you on the floor. His suit jacket was off, and his tie loosened for the first time all day, but he looked relaxed.

“Dad, look! I made the dragon like the one from the book you read to me last night,” Jack explained, already diving into another story about his creation.

You exchanged a fond look with Aaron, who smiled at the scene. This — these simple moments — they were everything to him. “I think we have a true artist on our hands,” Aaron said, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he sat down beside you, his eyes were full of affection for the both of you.

You grinned, pulling Jack into a little side hug. “I’d say so. I think we'll need more wall space for all of his masterpieces though,” you teased, already scouting which painting you'd have to take down. It made Jack giggle.

Aaron chuckled softly too, his arm slipping around your waist as he looked between the two people he cared for most. It wasn’t the opulence of the mansion or the high-profile life that mattered to him — it was the warmth of the family you had created, the quiet joy of being together, and the love that effortlessly filled the room every time you were together.

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meazalykov · 2 days ago

Text

that's a wrap

alex popp x actress!reader

summary: you decide that it is time to become a full-time wife

in the golden glow of the los angeles twilight, you gaze out of your sleek penthouse window, the city sprawling beneath you like a living canvas painted with vibrant hues of orange and deepening blue.

you have lived in this city for so long, your life woven into the cinematic fabric. from the moment you left germany as a child, your heart yearned for a stage—the bright lights of hollywood, the echo of applause, and the thrill of storytelling.

you have become one of the most recognized actresses of your generation in the horror genre. an oscar at nineteen, an emmy at twenty-three, and countless nominations and awards have been attached to your name.

with each role you’ve played, your name becomes tied to brilliance, embodying strength and vulnerability.

yet, as your career flourishes, an unsettling feeling begins to simmer beneath the surface—a whisper of change, a longing for something different.

at thirty-one, you find a different kind of love is beckoning from across the ocean.

alex, your wife and the fierce striker for wolfsburg, has always been your anchor. mutual friends introduced you to her back in 2014, and due to your career you couldn’t take things seriously at first. however, alex always tried with you. you’ve been married to her now for four years, and its been the best four years of your life.

one day, when you came back to germany for a couple of months, alex wanted to talk to you..

“i’m thinking of retiring from international football,” alex says one evening, her voice steady but laced with a hint of uncertainty. you are nestled together on your plush couch, surrounded by the cozy warmth of your shared home. you sense the gravity of the declaration.

football has been everything for her—the highs of goals scored, the heartache of losses, the euro wins (and losses), alex loved football more than anything (besides you of course).

“are you sure?” you ask, searching alex’s emerald-green eyes, which are reflective with both spark and sadness. you remember the times you’ve spent watching matches together, the way she lights up at every goal and every tackle, the intensity that comes alive within her.

“you’ve worked so hard for this.”

a small smile curls on alex’s lips, her fingers intertwining with yours.

“i have, and it’s been an incredible journey. but i think it’s time for a change. i want to focus on the club, on my next steps, and… on us.” she pauses, laying her head on your shoulder.

“the idea of retiring feels freeing, like opening a door to something new. but it’s a big step, especially with how much i’ve given to the national team.”

your heart flutters at her words. there it is—the dream of shared life, the possibility of focusing on each other more than your respective careers. but you feel a twinge of your own aspirations weaving into the conversation.

in recent months, you have found yourself more and more drained by the demands of acting. each press tour and red carpet event feels like a weight; the personas you crafted for the cameras sometimes feel far removed from who you want to be.

your love for acting left years ago, but you’ve never talked about it. millions of people would do anything to have the success that you had, which is why you remained humble when it came to your career.

you bite your lip, contemplating your own path.

“and what about you?”

you finally speak, your voice soft and contemplative.

“i mean, i’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time for me to step back, too.”

alex turns her head sharply, a mixture of surprise and concern twisting her features.

“what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, your heart racing.

“i’ve loved acting my whole life. since i was ten years old.. but lately… i don’t know. it feels like there’s something more out there for me. something besides just the next film or the next award. maybe i want to stay here, with you, in germany. support you full-time as you transition.”

“you love what you do,” alex reminds you, concern etched into her expression.

“i do.. i think,” you acknowledge, “but I don’t know if it’s what I want anymore. it’s all so noisy, and sometimes I crave the quiet—the kind I can have with you.” it’s a realization you’ve been wrestling with, the weight of your own dreams now intertwined with the desire to nurture the softness of your domestic life.

at the age of ten, you left germany to be on a famous 2000s sitcom in the united states. not much was known about you, since you were a child playing in a child’s role at the time. you were on the sitcom from the age of ten to seventeen. afterwards, you moved onto movies– which is where you started getting your name plastered with the huge box office hits.

the following days with alex blur into a blend of introspection and exhilaration.

you left germany, again, a month after the conversation you had with your wife.

you are scheduled to appear on a popular late-night show in new york city—a platform that demands your presence but feels like yet another bolt of pressure in the timeline of your life. you look forward to it; yet, somewhere deep down, you wonder how your announcement will change things.

the thought of standing in front of an audience—centering their gaze on you, waiting for your words—fills you with both excitement and anxiety. it always had.

as the lights of new york glimmer outside the studio windows, you sit backstage, your heart echoing loudly against your ribcage. the host, a charming figure with a knack for drawing out emotion, greets you with warmth that feels strangely nourishing amidst the crowd’s overwhelming enthusiasm.

once seated beneath the bright lights, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, but this time it’s laced with purpose.

“y/n y/n y/n,” the host smiles,

“the first time you’ve sat in this chair, you were 13 years old with the cast of that 70s show– you’ve dazzled ussince you were just a child. your transformative performances have captivated audiences worldwide.”

the host stops talking as the audience claps, you smile, your hands held together in your lap as you sit in a nice black blazer outfit.

“but tonight, we hear you have some news that may surprise your fans.” the host says after the clapping died down.

you clear your throat, feeling the electrifying rush in your veins as you lean forward.

“thank you so much for having me,” you begin, the words flowing as if infused with years of pent-up emotion.

“ it has been a privilege to do what I love for all these years, but tonight I want to share something personal. after woman of the hour premieres, it will be my last movie you will see me in.” the studio falls silent, the audience holding its breath in disbelief.

“after the film premieres, I will be retiring from acting for good.”

the reactions erupt—gasps, applause, disbelief—as you feel the host’s eyes wide with surprise. you smile gently, eyes twinkling with both sadness and liberation.

“life changes, and so do we. for me, it’s about stepping back to embrace the next chapter—to support my wife, to explore new passions, to discover who I am outside the roles I’ve played.”

the host nods, admiration shining in his eyes.

“that’s incredibly brave of you, y/n. how does it feel to step away from something that has defined you for so long?”

“it feels... freeing. and a little scary.” you let out a soft laugh, your heart now racing with vulnerability.

“but I realized that life is about growing, about finding joy in unexpected places. for me, it’s about my family. we’re at the point where it feels right to re-prioritize what matters.”

your words resonate through the studio, and as your announcement settles, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. the claps and cheers from the audience feel like an embrace.

this is your decision, not just for you, but for your love, for a future you envision filled with laughter, and quiet evenings.

as soon as the segment concludes and the applause fades, you are flooded with emotion. walking off the stage, you can already envision the life ahead of you in germany, around the comforts of home and the brilliant sun-kissed laughter alongside alex. no more LA, just wolfsburg where your heart belongs.

you can finally imagine taking long morning walks, exploring new projects, starting fresh hobbies together—whatever you both like at that moment in time.

when you return home to germany that night, alex is waiting for you, a mixture of pride and adoration in her eyes.

“i saw you,” she whispers as you embrace, her voice tinged with warmth that melts away the lingering uncertainty.

“you were amazing, love.”

together, you sink into your beloved couch, the world outside shuttered in the nighttime calm.

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” alex says, a playful rise in her voice.

“you dropped the bomb.”

you laugh, the warmth blooming in your chest.

“felt like the right moment.”

“yes,” alex smiles. you feel the flutter of excitement at the thought of so many uncharted territories waiting for you both.

“imagine how lovely it will be,” alex continues, taking your hand between her own.

“to wake up every day without the rush of schedules, just life… our life.”

“with lots of dogs and the daughter we hope to bring in the next few years,” you tease, knowing the next steps you’ve discussed with your wife.

“how about we start with a little getaway to the mountains next weekend?”

“that sounds perfect,” you declare, her fondness illuminating as you share a kiss, both of you feeling free from the burdens that once held you captive.

masterlist

#alex popp #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #gerwnt #vfl wolfsburg women

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