#Mozart match up

[libraryofolive]

nanami with an alternative!reader

As a (wannabe) alternative girlie, I have some thoughts about everyone's favourite straight-laced sorcerer with an alternative!reader

featuring: Nanami Kento x gn!reader

genre: Fluff, headcanons/drabble

word count: 500

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you also have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner, who everyone thinks are mismatched at first. Nanami, in his sharp suits, perfectly polished shoes and not a hair our of place seems at odds with the person whose hand he is holding - someone who is covered in tattoos and piercings, unnaturally coloured hair and almost the exact opposite aesthetic to him.

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner who always leaves dark lipstick stains on his cheek, and sometimes even his collar. He started keeping make up wipes in his car, because as much as he loves having evidence of your love on his face, he would never live it down if he turned up to work with the imprint of your lips on his cheek, forehead, lips, or even the tip of his nose - your goodbye kiss is never just one kiss.

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner who share a music taste. Most people take one look at grown-up Nanami and expect his music taste to be solely Bach or Mozart. But those who know him well, and by that I mean knew him at high school, know that the 'emo' music that the two of you listen to is as much to his taste as it is yours.

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner, who he always helps you dye your hair. He dons one of his old band t-shirts, as to not accidentally dye one of his shirts whatever colour you wanted your hair to be. You sit on the bathroom floor, humming and singing gently along to the music filling the room. Kento is meticulous, being careful to not get any on your neck, forehead or ears, never missing a spot.

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner who convinced him to get his first ever - and only - tattoo. When you came home one day with his initials tattooed on your left ring finger, right underneath your wedding band, he knew he wanted to match you. So the next week he comes home with your initials tattooed on his chest, right over his heart to surprise you.

Nanami Kento and his alternative!partner, the person he loves the most in the entire world. He may have 'grown out of' his emo phase, but you make him feel like the love sick high schooler he used to be every time he looks at you. He admires that you don't 'conform' in the same way he does, and loves to have you on his arm, showing you, your beauty, and his love to you off for the world to see, even if they think you and ill-suited pair at first glance.

[rems-writing]

Daddy ribo

Pairing: basketballplayer!Jongho x musician!reader

Summary: Jongho likes your outfit. He just doesn't like it when you're ogled at so he punishes you. In a way.

Warning(s): Thigh riding, handjobs, slightly mean and possessive dom!Jongho

Genre: Smut with a bit of plot

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society

@yourfatherlucifer wanted this so here ya go. Maybe he can finally let me go from the basement lol jk jk. He doesn't have me hostage.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Everyone knew about the star athlete and famous basketball captain named Choi Jongho. Everyone also knew about the campus sweetheart and famous musician named Y/N L/N.

What everyone didn't know was that they were secretly dating.

There was a lot of talk about how athletes and musicians don't go well together. However, that didn't stop Jongho from nervously asking you out and smiling his precious gummy smile when you said yes to his dating proposal. From there, the rest was history.

Despite the scheduling conflicts due to his games and your orchestra concerts, they always found time to be in each other's arms and talk about their day. It usually ranges from the classes they both had to the practice sessions they both endured.

Sometimes, they would visit each other. Jongho would show up and sit in the empty auditorium and watch his lover practice and lead the entire orchestra while you would sit atop the bleachers in the campus gym and watch him practice free throws and go through rigorous drills.

Just like today.

You didn't have any classes nor after school orchestra practice today, so you decided to visit Jongho at basketball practice. This time, you sat at the bottom of the bleachers so they could get a close up look at him practicing.

As you were watching him, you stretched a bit so your limbs wouldn't grow stiff from sitting on the bleachers for too long. Some of the players usually don't notice them since you liked to be obscure and lowkey when watching but today, the entirety of the team noticed you.

Including Jongho, who for some reason didn't look too happy seeing you.

His serious, almost deadly, stare bore into his lover's eyes and when you finally looked up from your phone to wave at him excitedly, all he did was nod his head to the side, indicating that you should get your ass over to the other side of the gym and sit next to Jongho.

You happily, albeit naively, skipped over there and sat next to Jongho.

You threw your arms around Jongho and grew confused & sad when he shrugged them off.

Did you do something wrong?

While you were lost in thought, Jongho quickly draped his jacket over your legs and glared at his teammates. His peers got the message and stopped the lingering stares on his lover, pretending to do something else during the break from practice. Feeling satisfied in scaring his teammates, he turned to you and whispered lowly in your ear.

"Come with me."

Soon, the two of them were hidden in the locker room somewhere and Jongho took the opportunity to grab your hips and lightly slam you against the wall. Your sadness turned into fear when you saw the look in his eyes as he held you tightly, ocassionally drawing circles on your hips and squeezing them.

"Did I do something wrong, bear?"

His eyes softened a bit and he leaned in to kiss your forehead before shaking his head.

"Of course not, my little Mozart. But out of all the outfits you had, why did you decide to wear this?" He asked as he gestured to your outfit.

Oh.

So he had a problem with your outfit it seems.

It consisted of a cream-colored sweater crop top, a dark blue high-waisted skirt that only reached mid-thigh, and matching Vans. Your hair was down and you decided to put on a bit of makeup to cover your blemishes.

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt and looked away since your chin was held by Jongho.

"I'm sorry, bear. I just wanted to look cute today since I didn't have classes or orchestra practice today. I can change or wait for you at home - "

Jongho kissed you to shut your rambling up. He caressed your face and smirked lightly.

"Now now. Don't be like that. I love the outfit. What I don't love is my teammates ogling you. Did you notice that your skirt hiked up a bit when you crossed your legs? Or that this little top of yours raised up a bit when you threw your arms around me?"

Oh! He was just being possessive.

Wait a damn minute...

Oh...

You blushed out of embarrassment and Jongho chuckled lowly. He kissed you again but it was hungry and desperate. You tried your best to keep up with him since you were still new to all of this. However, you didn't mind taking that next step.

You just didn't expect it to be in the deepest part of the locker room.

He picked you up and led you to the benches near his locker before sitting down and having you sit down on his lap.

Specifically, right over one of his strong thighs.

Your blush worsened and Jongho grinned slightly, enjoying the way you squirmed around in this new position. His hand creeped up your skirt and hooked his finger into the hem of your panties.

"May I?"

Unable to form words, you nodded and Jongho's grin grew bigger before he yanked them down. You had to lift your hips a bit so he could pull them down easily. After he stuffed them in his pocket, he stuck his hand down his gym shorts and whipped out his cock.

His nice, girthy, and thick cock that made you more wet than before.

He guided your hand over to his cock and you saw little dribbles of precum leak from the tip. You gulped nervously as your hand wrapped around the shaft and you looked up at him with nervous eyes. Jongho almost came on the spot seeing his biggest wet dream coming to life.

You straddling his thigh, your exposed hole leaking over his gym shorts, and the innocent yet fiery look in your eyes as you stared him down with his dick in your hand.

You weren't innocent by all means. You just didn't think about those things often when you're around him. Today was an exception.

Perhaps you could live out that secret fantasy you always dreamed of when it came to this beefy man and his sturdy thighs.

"I want you to take it nice and slow. I want to savour every moment of this as much as possible. You cannot cum without my permission. If you do, I will fuck you into the walls of the locker room showers. Got it?"

There was a sharp edge in his voice and shivers went down your spine upon hearing that voice. Nodding obediently, you began to rock your hips back and forth, careful not to emit any moans or whimpers as the fabric of his gym shorts rubbed against you with a strange yet satisfying friction.

While you were riding his thigh, you were jerking him off at the same time. Jongho threw his head back and let out quiet sighs of satisfaction every time. When he adjusted himself to look at you, his eyes became hooded and a lazy smirk was on his face. Whenever he felt you go faster, he grabbed your hips and made you sit still.

"I said take it slow. Don't disobey me."

You nodded vigorously and you tried to ride his thigh as slowly as possible, causing him to nod in approval. Several minutes later, he signaled for you to pick up the pace and you did. He even lifted the leg of his gym shorts a bit so you could feel closer than before. You let out a slight whimper as your wet hole made contact with the bare skin of his thigh. Jongho let out a quiet moan as well and wrapped his arm around your waist while he buried his head in the crook of your neck and placed feverish kisses along the side of it.

"That's it, baby. Pick up the pace a bit more. Fuck I'm so close."

When he lifted his head to look you in the eyes, he brought you in for one last feverish kiss. His hands settled on your hips once more and he helped you rock back and forth on his thigh since you were distracted due to the two of you kissing each other. Once he pulled away, he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"You've been so good for me. So obedient, small, and perfect. You can cum."

Feeling relieved, you rode his thigh faster than before and you found yourself cumming all over his thigh. You stopped and let your high ride out and you felt yourself shake a little due to how intense your orgasm was. Jongho felt himself cum as well since he let out his release at the same time as you. Once the both of you came down from your highs, you got up from his thigh and cringed at how wet it was.

"I'm so sorry, bear -"

"Don't be. We both got to live out our fantasies." Jongho reassured you as he stood up and opened his locker before changing into a different pair of gym shorts. He took out your panties from the pocket of his previous pair before throwing them at you so you could put them on.

"Next time, let me know if you'll wear such a delectable outfit like this again. God you look so beautiful like this."

All you could do was giggle and nod before the two of you left the locker room.

[xxsycamore]

❝ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬? ❞

╰┈➤ ⁉️ Everyone is acting so strange today, and Sebastian seems to be the only one noticing it.

Sebastian, Comte, Napoleon, Theodorus, Vincent, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Isaac, Leonardo, Dazai • rating: G • tags: April Fools' Day; Pranks and Practical Jokes; poor sebas; Humor; Crack • wordcount: 1,682 • masterlist

a/n: HAPPY APRIL FOOLS! After Dazai pranking everyone and then everyone pranking Dazai, it seems like this year's target is Sebas…

It's not every day that Sebastian allows himself the indulgence of enjoying a drink with his masters, even when they so generously invite him to the table in the game room. The events of last night are but a blur in his memory now, as he's not the best at holding his liquor and neither has their immunity to hangovers. But a butler must be prim and proper at all times! While he's on duty, that's it. So that's why he allowed himself the fun of last night, but is readily up and out of his bed early in the morning today.

He enters the kitchen, humming the tune to Mozart's Turkish March in this tranquil moment of being the only soul awake in the whole mansion, on his way to begin preparing breakfast-

"Oh, good morning Sebas. I'm already done with some things here, figured I might help you."

"My! What a nice surprise Monsieur Napoleon, thank you."

Huh.

"M-M-M-Monsieur Napoleon what are you doing here????"

"Helping you with breakfast."

"No, gods, I was wondering why are you awake at such an early hour-"

Napoleon looks at him dumbfounded. And so does Sebas, mirroring him. Granted, there are dark circles under his eyes but that hardly does anything about the vigor with which he moves the frying pan and multitasks with the preparation of another ingredient at the same time.

"Is it that strange that I felt like waking up earlier today?"

Well, yes it is! That's what Sebastian wants to shout at the top of his lungs, but he can only blink mesmerized instead. Fearing that he might offend him in some way if he keeps this up, he saves his confusion to himself and gets back on track with his task.

The breakfast preparation goes on swimmingly with Napoleon's help, even if he strangely seems to have forgotten how to cook all of a sudden so he needs some serious memory refreshment... Sebastian blames it on his lack of sleep, of course that would be the reason.

Soon the dining room begins filling with the real early-bird residents that pose no surprises for Sebastian, and the plates are already waiting in front of them like clockwork.

"Pancakes again? I'm starting to get tired of this. You got something else for me, Sebastian?"

The sound of pots and pans falling to the floor greatly concerns the van Gogh brothers at the table after the younger one's question, but soon after the butler emerges from the kitchen with a haphazardly pieced-together English breakfast. He places it in front of Theodorus who asked for the change, waiting. Waiting to see if he's going to eat it at all.

"Here you go, master Theodorus. Do you need extra jam, or-"

"No need, looks more than enough to me. Why are you staring at me like that? Is it poisonous?"

"Gods, no, how could it be! I'm merely...surprised is all."

Vincent chuckles a little at the exchange, preparing to dig in on his portion of...pancakes, fortunately. But he pauses.

"Theo, would you hand me the syrup? I feel like eating something sweeter today!"

"Stand up and take it yourself."

Sebastian's eyes are about to pop out of his eye sockets.

"Messieurs, is everything alright with-"

The door opens with a bang that belongs to no gentlemen living in this household.

And certainly not to Le Comte de Saint-Germain.

"'morning."

"M-monsieur le Comte, what are you wearing?"

Comte's casual walk to his place at the head of the table with hands in his pockets is rivaled only by the even more casual look he sports today, with a halfway-open shirt and a pair of checkered trousers that don't really match. To finish off the look, his hair is a mess. He lands with a thud on his chair, raising his feet to rest crossed on the table.

"What am I wearing? Since when did you start asking so many questions?"

"I'm terribly sorry."

Comte sighs and snaps his fingers repeatedly in the air. "Coffee. Now."

"I already brew a pot of your preferred morning tea-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, butler."

"I got it."

On his way to the kitchen, Sebastian overhears Comte slamming his fist on the table telling everyone that from now on, they'll be paying rent.

Sebastian must be sleeping. This has to be some kind of nightmare. There's no other logical explanation.

When he returns to the dining room the door opens to welcome another couple of residents - Jean and Mozart.

"Good morning Herr Mozart. Good morning to you too, Monsieur Jean, what a surprise!"

Mozart and Jean both turn to Sebastian...and they give him their brightest smiles. Imaginary flowers bloom in the air around them. They greet in a cheerful voice together as one, and it's the most beautiful melody. "Good morning, Sebastian!"

"We decided to grab a bite before our trip to town today."

"Your... your what?"

"That's right, I'll be taking Jean in town with me. The carriage is already waiting at the gate."

Mozart going to...town?? With a carriage?? With Jean??

"Aha! The trace of this bloody delicious smell seems to have led me to this dining room!"

Now what? Sebastian turns in the direction of Arthur's voice albeit it sounds a little different than usual, as if he's playing a role... and there he is, having just entered the dining room... with a looking glass in his hand and a pipe in his mouth.

"Good morning, Master Arthur. Your observation skills are on point as always. What's with the curious accessories?"

Sebastian doesn't know why he asks anymore.

"Why, I'll be going on a Sherlock Homles book fair later today! You know it's all the hype these days, I figured it's the best place to learn something about my beloved character that I don't know. You know my methods, Watson. Haha!"

Thank god, Sebastian is not the only one about to faint right now. Given how normal everything else was taken by his housemates. Theo says the one thing Sebastian couldn't bring himself to say.

"This idiot has reached rock bottom in his search for skirts he hasn't yet fooled around with."

Arthur looks...grossed out. As if he's been made fun of by Dazai, or something similar. Actually, there haven't been a great deal of chances to see Arthur sporting this expression. It's definitely strange.

"Theo, could you not be so foul-mounted, please? You know I hold no interest in the fair sex."

"A-Are you feeling well, Master Arthur? Maybe when you drink your coffee-"

"Ah no please, tea it is for me!"

"Are you feeling well, Master Arthur?????"

"Sebastian seems really uptight today. Are YOU feeling well, Sebastian? Why don't you sit with us for a while?" Jean smiles at him again. It's a smile Sebastian wants to protect. It should be automatically making him feel better but it only serves to increase his confusion. He even sat next to Comte. Comte doesn't deserve this! At least not with his current behavior. Oh how strange of a thought that is.

"I appreciate your concern, but, I just need to know what is happening with all of you today. I can't be calm until I ensure that you, my masters, are alright, and I demand you tell me what is happening this instant!"

A near dozen pairs of eyes blink at Sebastian as if he's indeed the crazy one. He sits down on the offered chair, then quickly stands up again. "No, please tell me what is-"

The door opens yet again and this time it's Leonardo and Isaac who enter. Sebastian paces left and right, trying to spot empty plates to take to the kitchen before he can witness anything weird again-

"Isaac, mio amico, can you please not smoke in here? You know I can't stand the smell..."

"AAAAAAAGH!" Sebastian yells, breaking his professional image and running straight towards the door. He can't do this. It doesn't matter if he escapes now. It's just a nightmare. Just a nightmare-

He nearly crashes into the person entering at the same time.

"Hello Sebas-kun~"

Through the DOOR?

Sebastian breaks. Like a stone statue slammed by the pressure of a cataclysm despite the decades of stoicism, even if he thought he'd seen everything...

He falls to his knees in defeat.

...

...

"APRIL FOOLS'!"

Before he has a chance to remove his hands from his eyes where he tried to block the world, a wave of residents quite literally falls over him, each embracing him and laughing.

Okay, NOW he's confused.

"April fools? But- But my calendar said it's-"

"Someone had a little too much to drink last night and had to be carried to his room... let's say we meddled a little with it. Sorry, Sebas." Napoleon pats his shoulder. "Okay, can I go to sleep now?"

Sebastian laughs, and despite what he predicted for himself just a minute ago, it's not out of descending to madness. It's a genuine laughter, one he hasn't had in a while.

"I would never guess you could be capable of doing such a thing! Every one of you! My god, you got me quite well."

"Heh, guess you don't know us well enough then, eh? Remember this well, some of those guys are going to remember it for the rest of their second lives." Leonardo says, finally lighting that cigarillo. Good thing they didn't have to put on the act for longer than that.

"Indeed. I hope we weren't too harsh on you, Sebastian. My residents are always such naughty boys." Comte consoles, suspiciously looking as if it was his idea all along.

Sebastian chuckles some more, then he stands to his feet, dusting off his uniform and letting out a small cough behind his fist.

"My masters, that was indeed too naughty of you! I appreciate seeing you have fun, and I have to admit, you got me well. But that doesn't mean I won't find it fitting to flick some foreheads."

"Sebaaas, can we please have our usual breakfast now?"

"Why yes, coming right away!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[fushitoru]

aashi can i hear some more about bridgerton geto 😛

- zaynesbathrobe anon

he really, really likes music. he goes to lots of mozart concerts. he likes to go to them with bridgerton geto!reader because once, you said you've never been because your family has never let you go to societal events in the ton, being a bastard daugther.

he met you at a masked ball. geto has courted a lot of ladies for the sake of pursuing someone, but he hasn't met anyone worth marrying. he's spent his time well, and he's broken a lot of hearts. however, he's looking for something...more. someone who's willing to think more about the societal standards, why they're there. ladies don't usually do that or think like that, lol. after a conversation with a masked stranger, you, he can't get you out of his mind.

he also stopped visiting brothels after you came into the picture.

he is a firm believer in a lot of societal beliefs. he thinks classism is an issue that needs to be solved, just like how in canon he originally believed that sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers.

gojo doesn't really listen to anyone, but in the rare case he's looking to appeal to reason, geto will probably be the person he's hearing out.

like i said before, he loves to gossip, and he's not above meddling. he's convinced men to drop certain people and pursue someone else. basically, he's interfered in matches before, and they've been particularly successful. he's just really convincing, almost like a cult leader

he loves reading whistledowns. he wakes up and loves to do that first thing in the morning (alongside drinking tea).

he's very calculative, and he hates that you are the one that he can't calculate, predict, and manipulate. the both of you are in this dance, one where you both step onto each other's toes, never being able to predict what the other's next steps are.

[yanderepuck]

We are thanking @aquagirl1978 for this.

At the Bronx zoo, they are letting you name a cockroach after someone and you get a little certificate for doing so.

So let's imagine MC doing this for the guys. She prints out the little certificate and gives it to them all cute like.

Napoleon

"You...did what?" Looking at the certificate wondering if he's reading it wrong.

"I named a cockroach after you"

He just looks at you. Very confused. Not sure if it's meant to be endearing or semi threatening.

"...You still love me, right?"

"of course!"

Mozart

"....."

"Do you like it~"

"That..is.. DISGUSTING!"

You laugh as he throws a small tantrum.

"COCKROACHES ARE DISGUSTING. WHY WOULD YOU NAME ONE AFTER ME?"

"Because cockroaches are forever like our love~"

"....."

"I got the matching socks too"

"get those away from me"

Leonardo

"..a cockroach?"

"a hissing cockroach!"

Leonardo is just looking at the certificate. "I've been called worse things" shrugs and hangs it up in his wall

Vincent

"aww. Thanks" he smiles at it and you even got him the cockroach plushie to go with it. You knew he would like it. He's going to go paint the two of you as cockroaches now, and going on a date

Theo

Mildly offended. "Why a cockroach?"

"Why not. It hisses and so do you. It seems fitting"

Still offended and is convinced you could have chosen a different animal/insect but decided on the cockroach for who knows what reason

Arthur

You know he goes all out for Valentine's Day as it is. So when you just hand him the certificate he's a little confused.

"I named a cockroach after you!"

"..is...is that a normal thing in your country?"

"nope!"

He's wondering if this is a warning.

"I got us matching roach socks too!"

Isaac

Boy probably shrieked a little when seeing a cockroach on the paper. "WHY???"

"I thought it was cute"

"WHATS CUTE ABOUT A COCKROACH?"

"They hiss!"

He screams again. But then you made him sit through the virtual encounter and he screams a little when it hisses

Jean

Handles it better than you expected honestly. For a split second you thought he would be confused "so this is how people celebrate Valentine's Day? They name bugs after each other"

"not exactly. I thought it would be a funny gift."

You got him the plush and he's holding it like a baby and he carries it around all day and tells people it's name is also Jean

Dazai

"Aww. I got you the same thing"

You were SHOOK

Dazai also handed you a certificate. Needless to say he enjoyed being named after a cockroach. You're the one a little upset by it

Shakespeare

He's telling you about how he is taking you to this nice restaurant. He even got you a new dress to go out in. And then you hand him a box with the certificate and the plush inside.

"a... cockroach? You named a cockroach after me.."

He's wondering if he's done anything wrong and you did this because you're mad at him.

Comte

He has no clue how to react. He bought you fancy chocolates and nice wine. Probably a new gold necklace. And he got matching roach socks and a certificate. He's probably a little concerned on how you were able to do this and why you wanted to. But he's putting on the socks right now

Sebastian

Probably sees the humor in it and thinks it's funny. He's oddly excited about the virtual encounter. Meanwhile he probably found a site where you can name a worm after your loved one because of the meme "would you still love me if I was a worm"

Vlad

He thought you would pick something more elegant than a cockroach. Maybe something fluffy. Not a cockroach.

"Roaches are forever, like our love, and you"

Vlad now thinking roaches are immortal and is curious about them. This isn't what you planned. But he is very touched by this

Faust

"....you got me a cockroach?"

"no..I named one after you"

"why would you-" so very confused. He definitely hangs it up in his lab. It keeps his ego down tbh. You start calling him your little cockroach since he calls you a guinea pig

Charles

Slightly disturbed at first but is definitely here for the matching socks.

"didn't have to be a cockroach? I think I'm cuter than a cockroach"

"you're the cutest cockroach"

But then you watch the virtual encounter and he screams a little when it hisses. He wasn't expecting that

Drake

"aww you got me a gift?" Sees the certificate. "...a roach."

"because our love will never die~"

This is his first Valentine's with you and you named him after a roach.

"Is this a modern thing people do?"

"not really. Just a funny thing"

He's thinking you are trying to offend him but he's actually enthusiastic about it

Galileo

Didn't even want to do anything for Valentine's but you hand him an envelope and he sees the certificate and he gets very confused.

"happy valentine's day~"

"... I think I'm a little above a roach"

"you both seem to hiss when touched so I see no difference"

That shot his ego down

[cheezeybread]

Anon McGee is back to wreck the ol inbox :)

Not an Alice related thought this time [I'm ashamed to admit I've never actually played the game myself, I just remember my sister playing it when I was younger. That being said, supposed to get my hands on it this weekend, so we'll see if that sparks new thoughts 🙏], but I've been listening to a lot of Ghost lately and bring you something related to that instead. Just some short headcanons for the housewardens with an s/o who's, regardless of their aesthetic, an unexpectedly avid listener of things like Ghost [which is predominantly nu[?] metal with other genres in some of their other songs]. Like it just doesn't match up at all and it's just kind of jarring.

It's funny to me to imagine it as a sort of scenario where maybe the pair is busy doing something and one of them suggest they share a pair of earbuds to use as background noise and the mistake is made to give the reader control over what they're listening to and that's how the [to at least some of the housewardens, but likely not all of them] appalling reveal of reader's music taste is made. It's definitely not THAT bad, but it's like a punch in the gut when the last thing you're expecting is THIS.

[Also, just a side note, but if you've never listened to Ghost before, I recommend at least listening to "Darkness at the Heart of my Love" and "Mummy Dust" so you can get an idea of the range of their music. Maybe "Cirice" too. It's been kind of a hit or miss on talking to people about them lately, but with the movie having come out recently, I think they're getting around a bit more?]

YOU'VE NEVER ACTUALLY PLAYED THE GAME?? YOU TRAITOR! But at least you're getting the game now, atoning for your sins and whatnot- any new thoughts come around, feel free to wreck my inbox with them! XD

I've never heard of Ghost before, honestly- my music taste is absolutely an abomination! All I listen to is Fall Out Boy, musical songs and cheesy songs that have a veeeery clear storyline to them (I gotta picture a scenario to every song, it's easier that way, don't question it!), but honestly, those Ghost's songs are kind of a bop? I might add them to my Hype up playlist idk!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Poor buddy didn't get to listen to any music with words in it as a kid! He was only allowed to listen to classical orchestra music...so when he got to NRC, Riddle was absolutely overwhelmed by the fact that there were so MANY different genres!

His taste is still pretty old-timey, though.

He's the sort to put on a "Wolfgang Mozart's BOPS" playlist (if their world has a Mozart...) and bust it down to some sick piano notes if he's alone lmao

So when the two of you are studying in the courtyard, you get on the topic of music and how it might help with studies. Riddle explains his tastes, and you try to explain yours with a mumbled "it's complicated..."

In the end, he goads you into playing some of your music so he can understand how you think

He nearly passes away when you first hit play

DRUMS??? GUITARS THAT ARE ELECTRIC MAYBE??? BEATS THAT AREN'T KEPT IN TIME BY A METRONOME IN THE BACKGROUND???

He's convinced you were one of those rebel-teens like Deuce was for a moment, before dismissing the idea.

Riddle just...can't come to terms with the difference of vibes between what YOU give off and the music you listen to.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"Huh."

That's literally all he has to say on the matter for a few hours, as you blast your music on a speaker while you join the Savanaclaw dorm for their morning workout (whether you were actually working out, or just providing encouragement)

The other dorm members are vibing to it, for sure! Ruggie especially is busting down a move every time he gets a break

But Leona? He just says "huh" and...that's it. He doesn't seem too interested in it while he's practicing and working out.

At the end of practice, he comes up and sits with you in the shade, gnawing on a piece of jerky. After a little while, he mentions how he didn't expect a herbivore to have decent music tastes.

"Oh, so you liked it?" You question

"I didn't say that." he responds.

So does he like it?? Does he hate it???

You may never know???

Jk, Ruggie tells you in secret later that Leona was listening to Ghost in his room that afternoon.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Lounging around the Mostro Lounge after closing time, waiting for Azul to finish his "managerial" duties, Floyd convinces you to put on some "Human Vibes"...in other words, music. So you pull out your phone and set it in a glass cup to make the sound louder, and put on one of your main playlists.

Floyd is absolutely crushing it with the dance moves to the songs (literally "crushing it", he's about to crush several plates as he tries to dance while washing dishes)

Jade is silent throughout the ordeal, probably not even hearing it over the vaccuum he's running all over the lounge.

A few songs go through before Azul bursts out of his VIP room, looking absolutely furious.

He yells at Floyd to turn off the music, but the eel just shrugs and points at you without explaining

Azul turns to you, absolutely confused. You turn down the music to a reasonable level, apologizing if it disturbed his work

"What....do you listen to in your spare time?" Is his main question. You can't tell if he's disgusted or simply confused. Flabbergasted might be the best word for it, honestly.

After you explained to him that, yes, this was your music taste, Azul takes your hand in his and gets on his knees, pursing his lips

"We'll get you fixed, don't worry, you'll be fine." :'(

Don't worry, though, he's just kidding, for sure!

He won't even pretend to understand why you listen to it, but he's not going to be completely opposed if you were to play that sort of music every now and then!

KALIM AL-ASIM

Dude!! He loves it fr fr!!

He tries his best to like everything that life has to offer, appreciating it however he can, but he genuinely likes this! Even though he can safely say that he didn't expect you to like this sort of things.

But fully expect him to go down a rabbit-hole for Ghost. He's going to go through a hyper-fixation with it for a few weeks, adding in their songs to the playlists that he puts on a speaker during the dorm's parties and casual hangouts

For some strange reason, though, he wants you to know that he likes the music as much as you do, so Kalim might randomly burst out into one of their songs and insist that you dance with him to his own singing??

He's so silly, but isn't that why you started dating him in the first place?

VIL SCHOENHEIT

"Oh, love, this most definitely isn't the right music for you, are you sure?"

He's so concerned when you play it during a "spa night" in the Pomefiore dorm. He genuinely thinks that you're possessed by a ghost or something. With the way you acted half the time, this was...not the sort of song he was expecting.

It's okay, though, he'll come around, you just have to gentle-parent him with your music taste for a while.

"Aww, come on, how do you know that you hate it if you don't try it~?" (Speaking as if you're trying to get him to eat vegetables LOL)

But after a while, maybe, hopefully, he'll tolerate it just a little bit more...maybe

IDIA SHROUD

I'm ngl, Idia strikes me as the type to listen to this group (and music in general) on occasion, mainly when he's intently engaged on projects and needs to focus, and when he's doing reading in the library- although he rarely goes to the library to to his projects since it's in a public space, he's rather not have his music accidentally blast out while some pop music is playing...he'd much rather have it be Ghost.

So when you're over at the Ignihyde dorm to assist him with some new gidget, he asks you to put on some music to alleviate the silence (not that he particularly minds silent moments when it's around you, but music helps him focus). You don't even think twice before putting on one of Ghost's songs.

His shoulders IMMEDIATELY tense up because Idia's thinking "oh my gosh they got onto one of MY playlists, they're going to see everything I have, they're going to judge me omg omg"

But then you apologize for your music, and poor Idia relaxes straight away when he realizes that it's your music you're playing instead of his!

He definitely didn't think you'd listen to that kind of stuff, but who is he to complain when there's a common music-vibe between you two??

MALLEUS DRACONIA

"Hey, Mal, you want to listen to some of my music?" You ask, holding out an earbud as the two of you sit together in the library.

Of course he's going to jump on the opportunity to hear some human music! Now, Malleus has mostly heard classical music, but he's heard bits and pieces of other pop songs here and there!

But as soon as he pops in the earbuds (after you painstakingly explain to him how to wear it), he goes silent and stock-still.

His eyes dilate and he's...just totally frozen (have you seen those memes of people listening to hardcore metal and putting their headphones on little hyperactive kids, who then go still? Yeah, that's how he is)

"This is superb music, my darling, did you make this yourself?" He's so excited, finally speaking once you turn off the music. You have to explain to Malleus that no, you didn't make any of this music, it's all stuff from other people.

Nonetheless, despite whatever vibe you give off, Malleus thinks that it's wonderful, and now will continue to associate this type of music with you forever and all eternity. Expect it to be playing every time you visit the Diasomnia dorm.

And everyone else in the dorm is going to be subjected to listening to it, as well. They all need to be well-versed in different genres of music, Malleus claims, and this kind especially is important (because it's your music!)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[crazyforbarbatos]

Obey Me! Brothers take care of their baby while you’re away

Warning: possible heart attack from cuteness

Y/C/N = Your Child’s Name

you know, his baby was pretty well behaved

but was pretty restless after you left

a day without you was lonely

not just for your baby but him as well

you just always knew what to say and do

“I know you’re not going to want to sit with me at my desk for hours, so let’s go find something that you’ll like.”

honestly he would try different things to see what your baby seemed to enjoy

cats? anime? reading? sleeping? different foods? money? shopping?

he was a bit prideful when his baby seemed to relax when he put on some music on his record player

“A fellow Mozart enthusiast? Excellent taste.”

he also realized that his darling child also really adored Cerberus

and Cerberus really was fond of Y/C/N, even lifting them up when they stumbled over

it was never a fun time when you had to go somewhere

it wasn’t that your baby didn’t like him, it wasn’t that

just why do you have to go? can’t you take them?

they miss you, come back

like father like baby

but the credit card teether seemed to calm them down fine

honestly Mammon would try to find something to keep them busy for the day

“Why don’t we make something for mama/papa?”

and just like that, the two would spend the day finger painting or coloring with crayons

Luckily he was prepared for this

not to mention he’s played lots of games where you had to take care of a baby

not to mention your whole theme for this baby was them being your player 3

he would have a box of toys in his room for his baby

he always made sure that his prized collectables were no way in reach or had the possibilities of falling

He would pull up a nice game like mario or sonic and set them on his lap

he would give them their tiny baby controller and he’d have his

“You’re the expert, Y/C/N, ready?”

he’d be watching their tiny fingers hit buttons and would play accordingly to his baby’s playstyle so they’d think they were really playing

but he’d also help them win

“Woah, Y/C/N! You’ve beaten my highest score!”

honestly you going out gave him the opportunity to take his baby out of a father-baby day

he would have his baby carrier strapped to his front and he’d be carrying a diaper bag full of everything that was surely needed

he even had a guide to babies for dummies daddies

he knew what he was doing, but just in case

he would take his baby to a cat café and then to a local library where he could a picture book about cats softly

“Which kitty do you like best Y/C/N?”

he might even been conned into getting a kitten for your child

as if he could resist the hopeful eyes and charming smile

“Y/C/N, do you wanna go prank Lucifer after this?”

he would only get a devilish giggle from his child, but he knew that it was a yes

SHOPPING TRIP!!!

his child was in need of the latest fashion

and frankly so was he

“You’re the best dressed in the whole world, Y/C/N-besides me of course.”

he would even ask his child what shade of certain makeup he would think fit him for the day

honestly this trip would be a great way for people to see him

and lord does he love the attention

and luckily for him, his child did too

Beel would be on a mission to make sure that his little one was entertained while you were gone

breakfast together and then it was off to say hello to the other uncles

he got a baby book from Satan who he’d asked to get for Y/C/N

he asked Levi to sew Y/C/N’s favorite teddy back up after being used as a teether

a brief nap with Uncle Bels was needed as they had a long day yet

he would take them to the park so they could play on the swing or go down the slide

he would be grateful to Mammon when he agreed to come along

“Y/C/N? Want some ice cream?”

heh

he would feed his baby and change them if need be

he’d change them into their little cow onesie & wear a matching one himself

and then it was off to have a bit of a rock in the comfy rocking chair

if they were lucky, they’d sleep right there and wait for you to get home

if his baby was as restless as you, he would sing to them softly and cuddle them in your shared bed in the attic

when you’d get home, you’d find both of them snuggling together on your pillow

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Love Booth Challenge

Love Booth for underrated characters.

Ikemen version

Hello and welcome to my first challenge. I am proud to present to you the Love Booth challenge, a month long exploration of love for the underrated characters of the Ikemen games.

General Rules

Works and art of all forms are welcome! Fanarts, fanfics, headcanons, moodboards, playlists and everything you can manage to think of is included. 

Limited to Ikemen fandoms and to certain suitors, due to popularity of some characters more than others I have decided to host a challenge exclusively for the less appreciated.

I had this idea since forever what took me so long to post it was the creations of the prompts I created in association with my lovely friend MO @xxsycamore.

I did my best to include most of the less loved characters from the Ikemen games exclusively with an English version.

That said if you think about other less popular characters, belonging to one of these games or to other Ikemen games that are not out in English yet, You are allowed to use these prompts as inspiration.

The main focus is to show love to characters not so loved by the fandom/game all year around without limit for this reason I won't make a masterlist.

When posting your works, use the tag #love booth challenge - you can as well tag me @queengiuliettafirstlady in your posts! It will help find other creations for those interested to check them out.

Posting to other sites is allowed - as long as you mention the challenge and its creators.

Reblogs are appreciated!

Content Rules

This challenge features a list of prompts, and dialogue prompts which you can match to your liking, if you want to. You can create more than one work for the same prompt, too!

Under the cut, you will find the prompts linked to the characters included in the challenge, that can be mixed up with prompts from other challenges happening around the fandom in the same month.

Any additional rules are up to the artists. You are free to choose the rating (make sure to mark your NSFW works accordingly, and if you’re minor, make sure not to interact with such!), and also the genre (the challenge’s main focus is romantic love, but it is not obligatory for your work to be of such genre), all characters and ships included are up to you (OCs, character x MC, character x character, etc.)

You’re free to take requests from your audience using these prompt lists, again please make sure to mention the challenge and its creator.

You’re absolutely free to post your works for this challenge whenever you feel like.

The final and most important rule is to have fun and not pressure yourself about full completion of the challenge. Do only as many works as you wish! :)

Here is a free-to-use banner/header for the challenge!

If you have any additional questions, I’ll be happy to help. There is no such thing as a stupid question, so don’t hesitate to get in contact with us! I wish you happy creating!

THE LISTS

Ikemen Vampire

Dazai - Storyteller - A walk under the cherry trees.

Jean - Monster - "I am not worthy of love."

Mozart - Music - "You are my muse."

Sebastian - Secrets - "My composure is an act."

Shakespeare - Bard - A poem for my lover

Faust - Alchemy - "Behave for me."

Charles - Obsession - "I wish we could stay like this forever."

Isaac - Scholar - "I don't understand people at all ... yet I found myself quite curious to know everything about you."

Ikemen Prince

Keith - Duality - "Trust me."

Luke - Bear - "I will protect you."

Jin - Sweets - "All I need is our love."

Rio - Pet - "I will love you always and forever."

Sariel - Discipline - "It will do good to remember I am quite a strict tutor."

Nokto - Facade - "Were the truth lies ?"

Licht - Scar - "No matter what I do this scars will not heal, but your presence made me forget about them."

Yves - Fashion - "Would you like to get ready together ?"

Ikemen Revolution

Zero - Identity - "I am human because of you."

Harr - Magic - "I only want to keep you safe."

Loki - Abandonment - Seeking comfort on a rainy night.

Blanc - Gentleman - "Do you remember what I warned you about when you came in Cradle?"

Mousse - Dreams - "You are the subject of my dreams. I want to know even more about you."

Dean - Strict - Stern gaze softening upon an endearing sight.

Dalim - Flirt - "You shouldn't have trusted me."

Oliver - Creativity - "The best part about my creations is seeing you smile."

Ikemen Sengoku

Kennyo - Revenge - "You make me feel complete with your love."

Ranmaru - Loyalty - "I will always be there for you."

Sasuke - Companion - Fanning over the fanboy.

Mitsunari - Knowledge - "Let me take care of you."

Yoshimoto - Beauty - Admiring art together.

Kanetsugu - Strategy - "I found quite difficult to keep my composure when you are around."

Hideyoshi - Devotion - "You're my number one priority."

Ieyasu - Teacher - Collecting herbs together.

Once again Have fun and Happy Creating! I can't wait to see all your creations. 🧡💟💌🤗

[whimsimille]

VACANT ROOM

Lee Dong Wook x fem! reader

"My dear, could you perhaps verify it one more time?" You asked, mustering the most charming smile you could manage in the face of the disinterested and nonchalant receptionist, who seemed more interested in her nails than her job. "I find it incredibly hard to believe that a reputable company like Starship would commit such a glaring oversight."

At half past midnight, the hotel was teeming with actors, singers and idols. Positioned in the center of the lobby, the luxurious building housing the assistant's desk was where you were standing. The interior exuded an atmosphere of old-world elegance, with polished marble floors, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet drapes adorning the walls. Soft candlelight cast a warm glow over the dining room, illuminating tables adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware.

Guests, dressed in their finest designer attire, mingled and conversed in hushed tones in the grand ballroom. Their quiet laughter pierced the air, merging in perfectly with the sweet notes of a Mozart sonata that drifted from the grand piano in the corner, played by a virtuoso whose fingers moved like dancers across the keys.

"I regret to inform you, ma'am," she retorted, her eyes barely leaving the glossy pages of an article about the latest trends in Seoul's fashion week. "But your company specifically requested a grand suite with a panoramic view spanning across the sea, located on the 16th floor. One king-sized bed, presumably for you and Mr. Lee Dong Wook."

"But that can't be right! There must be some kind of mix-up." Instant panic set in, your pulse going haywire as images swarmed in your mind—you sharing close quarters with him—definitely not on your wish list.

With an exaggerated sigh, she ditched her magazine and leveled her gaze at you for the first time since this little chit-chat commenced. “I assure you, there is no mistake. Everything has been arranged as per the request we received. The company was very explicit about the arrangements."

"Explicit about throwing me into a room with my ex-husband? That doesn't seem like a professional request."

"That's not for me to comment on, ma'am," she replied curtly, picking up her magazine again. "My job is to ensure our guests have the best experience. If you have a problem with your arrangements, I suggest you take it up with your company."

"But that's... it's... preposterous!" you stammered, feeling the blood drain from your face. "There must be some way to rectify...”

"I'm afraid all other rooms are fully booked. Perhaps you could address your grievances with your company, ma'am.”

"Aish…"

You turned your head to the side, spotting Dong Wook standing in the doorway of the lobby, dressed in a new, crisp navy blue suit with trousers tailored to his frame, complete with a matching tie and polished leather shoes. God, he had become insufferable since he discovered fabrics imported from Milan. This was where all the money had been going before the divorce.

Crushing the last of his half-smoked cigarette under the heel of his polished Italian leather shoes, he looked down and saw the flickering neon sign from the hotel entrance reflected in the trail of smoke.

"What the fuck is going on?”

“You ought to watch the language you use, old man,” you retorted, your thumb and index finger nervously smoothing out creases from the Chanel dress handpicked for the company's decadent birthday celebration held at this isolated high-end dwelling. “Prayers should dominate your vocabulary rather than swear words at this stage in life.”

His sharp gaze turned to you, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath his usually calm exterior.

Unmoved or maybe portraying so, you played along, “Just stating the obvious.”

A dismissive snort escaped him as he ran his hand irritatedly through otherwise meticulously groomed locks. “And if I don’t?”

You rolled your eyes, masking the unease creeping into your voice. "Then you'll just be an old man with a foul mouth, won't you? A grumpy, divorced, aging actor with nothing but a string of B-list movies to his name?"

"Better than being a frustrated little girl who got pissed by losing an award to me,” he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm and a bitter bite. "A little girl who can't accept that she's not the best and that someone else could actually outshine her brilliant talent."

A sharp retort tipped the tip of your tongue as you hesitated, but you swallowed it down, heart palpitating. If only the hotel was closer to your home, you'd escape this uncomfortable situation. You'd rather risk wandering down a dark, unfamiliar alley at midnight than share a room with your ex. But you were stuck here, trapped in this ostentatious lobby, miles away from any familiar comfort, forced to face whatever the night would bring.

"Can't you sleep in the same bedroom as your best friend? You two are usually tied by the hip, practically inseparable at every social event," You taunted, eyes glinting under the harsh lobby lights.

“Gong Yoo has a wife and you know it. And I'm not about to impose on their space. What about you? Don't you have other friends that came other than scripts and books? Or did they all get scared off by your charming personality?”

“Oh, you better bet that I'm charming. Maybe that's why our daughter decided to stay with me.”

Before he could respond, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, the woman at the desk cleared her throat, extending a key towards the two of you with a look of forced patience. "I believe this is what you two are fighting over, correct? Perhaps you could decide who gets the bed and who gets the sofa without causing a scene in the lobby?"

You took the key from the receptionist's hand with an exaggerated sigh, turning it over in your fingers. The weight of it felt heavy in your palm, like a lead boulder pulling you down into the pit of despair.

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much; your help was really indispensable.”

Turning back to face Lee Dong Wook, you could barely contain your humiliation as he stood stoically by your side, staring out at the dark ocean beyond the hotel's glass walls. Along with the sound of the ice cubes in his drink and the scent of his expensive cologne, the lobby was filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the coast. You couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the cloying smell that reminded you too much of your past.

"I suppose we have no choice but to make do," you said finally, motioning for him to follow you towards the elevators.

As he settled into step beside you, the click-clack of your high heels on the marble floor created an odd harmony with his steady gait.

It was almost impossible not to gag at the stale, rich smell of warm metal and coffee that pervaded the elevator. Pressing the button for the sixteenth floor, you peered up at the metal ceiling.

A few seconds later, the doors opened with a soft hiss and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling Lee Dong Wook's hot breath on your neck. He seemed to be waiting for you to take the lead, as if this were some kind of game, a cat-and-mouse chase that you just couldn't seem to win.

Swallowing hard, you walked ahead to the suite number indicated by the keycard.

When you finally turned the handle and pushed open the door, you found yourself face-to-face with an opulent display of luxury: plush red and gold carpets underfoot; crisp white linen tablecloths adorning an ornate dining table; fluffy duvets piled high on a king-sized bed; and a decadent bathroom beyond.

It was too much like the honeymoon suite he'd gotten you when you were still married, and your heart skipped a beat as it registered.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you set your luggage down on one of the side tables.

You turned around to face Lee Dong Wook, who was standing in the doorway, watching your every move intently, reminding you of the way Yeosin would look at you when she was planning a prank. 

Well, she was his mini version after all.

You held your breath as he stepped inside, taking in his tall frame and perfect nose. 

He took a deep breath before reaching up to his necktie and loosening it ever so slightly. "It's going to be a long night," he muttered under his breath as he moved closer towards the window, pulling back one of the heavy curtains to let the cool sea air and the sound of waves splashing against the shore gently lap at his face.

"I'll take the couch. It's not like I haven't endured worse accommodations while filming on location.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, an all-too-familiar gesture. “You have had back pains all the time since giving birth to Yeosin.”

“I don’t," you snapped back immediately, an automatic response honed by years of bickering.

“Yes, you do," he insisted, his tone softening. "I may not have been around recently, but I do remember. You’d wince every time you thought I wasn’t looking. But if you want to play the stubborn card here, if it makes you feel stronger, be my guest. In the meantime, you can freshen up. I'll make a makeshift bed for you, kid.”

There you stood, in the silence that followed, absorbing the sight of him.

It wasn't fair, an inner voice protested, as you took in the jawline you had kissed and nibbled countless times, the tantalizing constellations formed by the moles adorning his neck, each one a landmark you could identify even with your eyes closed, like a child eager to please and win a candy.

In the end, it wasn't fair that he could still find his way into your heart, the way a worshiper finds their way into a long-abandoned cathedral, kneeling in reverence among the dust and the decay, and still find it holy, still find it beautiful that there’s a vacant room waiting for him to lay his head.

He was the prodigal son returning to the home he once renounced, and you? You were the father left to wonder if welcoming him back was a show of futility or a sign of welcomeness.

"You always were stubborn," you retaliated, folding your arms across your chest. "Always thinking you knew best. Well, I'm not that same naive 23 year old girl you married. I can take care of myself.”

“Stop it. I have a headache right now.”

"You were always quick to jump in and play the hero, weren't you? But this isn't a drama, Dong Wook. There's no director yelling cut, no script to guide us. This is real life. And in real life, I don't need you to save me."

"I never asked to be your hero," he retorted, the quietness of his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "And I never wanted to be one. I just wanted to be there for you. But you always made it so damn hard." 

Frustration bubbled inside you, "You think I made it hard? You were the one who walked away. You were the one who gave up on us." 

“She’s only six,” he countered weakly. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening.” 

“You’d be surprised, Lee. Kids are smart. They pick up on more than we give them credit for. She knows something’s wrong. She misses her father. She misses us being a family.”

As the words left your mouth, you could see a flicker of pain cross his eyes. But you didn't care. You were too angry, too hurt to care about his feelings. 

With a huff, you turned on your heel, leaving him alone in the bedroom. As you slammed the door shut, the metal clanged loudly against the wall, echoing through the otherwise silent room. You hear the latch click into place, sealing you inside the small, enclosed space.

The bathroom was spacious and modern, with a luxurious glass-enclosed shower stall and his-and-hers sinks. 

Before you was the daunting task of turning on the water to run a hot bath. The faucet gave a small shudder, like a beast waking from slumber, as it sputtered to life, filling the room with the biting smell of chlorine and the comforting warmth of hot steam. A bottle of expensive shampoo, perhaps a gift from one of his many sponsors, sat on the vanity counter. You uncapped it, and its scent—a tantalizing blend of jasmine and sandalwood—tickled your nose as you sniffed it slightly.

The room began to mist up as your fingers fumbled at the buttons on your dress as if they had a mind of their own, desperate to get out of this suffocating fabric that reminded you too much of happier times when he'd slide them down your spine slowly and carefully, making you gasp under the cover of darkness.

Heat flooded your cheeks, remembering how those fingers had once traced your entire body—the pulse point at your wrist, where his wedding ring used to be, now replaced by a thin silver band around your third finger.

Stepping into the tub, the water was scalding hot—almost too hot to touch—but you reveled in it nonetheless.

As you slipped into the tub until it was almost full, feeling it lap at your neck and shoulders, you let out a long sigh of relief.

Closing your eyes, you breathed heavily as you began to scrub the last few days off yourself. 

Memories flooded back—years' worth of memories that had led up to this moment: the late-night movie marathons where you both would cuddle on the couch, the way he would laugh at your comical impersonations of movie characters, the way he would always keep the last slice of pizza for you, the way he would read bedtime stories to your daughter, his voice imitating various characters, making her giggle. You remembered his bright smile when your daughter took her first step, his eyes filled with tears of joy, the proud look on his face when she called him 'Daddy' for the first time.

But alongside the sweet memories, the bitter ones also found their way: the arguments that lasted till dawn, the slamming of doors, the sound of shattering glass, and the cold silence that followed. You remembered the canceled family trips due to his sudden shooting schedules, the forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, the vacant spot beside you in bed getting colder each day, late-night calls from agents about last-minute script changes, and sleepless nights spent worrying about Yeosin while he was off filming some romantic comedy filled with clichés and air kisses towards irrelevant starlets.

You scrubbed until your skin began to redden and sting from the heat, until all that was left was residual anger and resentment. Then you climbed out carefully, reaching for the plush white towel hanging on a stainless steel rack.

After drying off, you slipped into your silk pajamas and brushed your teeth with Totoro’s brush, the one Yeosin insisted on bringing so that you could remember her while she stayed with her Nana.

Stepping back into the suite, you expected to see Dong Wook, but he was nowhere in sight. The room was empty, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of voices from the television.

You walked towards the window, peering out into the darkness. The moon was a thin crescent in the night sky, casting a faint glow over the sea. Lee was probably out there, taking one of his late-night walks along the beach, letting the cool sea breeze clear his mind.

Turning around, you noticed the makeshift bed he had prepared on the couch. The cushions were arranged neatly, with a soft blanket folded at one end and a pillow with a fresh case. Beside it, there was a small side table with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers—for your bruised ankles and sore legs, no doubt. Despite everything, Dong Wook was still considerate.

You walked over to the couch, running your fingers over the soft fabric. It wasn't a king-sized bed, but it would do. 

Lowering yourself onto the couch, you winced slightly, feeling the day's exertion catch up with you.

You slowly stretched out your legs, trying to find a comfortable position. As you did so, you could feel the soreness in your muscles easing slightly. 

Curling up on the couch, you wrapped the blanket around yourself, pulling it up to your chin.

Lying there, you found yourself mimicking Yeosin's favorite position—curled up like a small ball, waiting for her father to come home and pick her up. It was a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of the simpler times, when the lines between work and personal life hadn't blurred, when the word 'divorce' hadn't been a part of your vocabulary.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the day replayed in your mind: the party where he'd been eyed by other women, the looks he gave you when you seemed more interested in your Champaign than his speech, the receptionist's words, the look on his face, the tense silence in the elevator. But despite the turmoil, you felt a strange sense of calmness. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the realization that you could handle whatever life threw at you.

With that thought, you slowly drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the sea lulling you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

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

As the first rays of dawn creeped in through the slats of the blinds, you stirred from your sleep.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you adjusted to the soft morning light, feeling something different.

Under you was not the stiff fabric of the couch, but something softer, more yielding. You didn't know when or why, but here you are, in the king sized bed that was supposed to be Dong Wook’s.

Confusion clouded your sleep-laden mind as you tried to piece together the puzzle and heat hushed to your cheeks as you felt something nuzzling your neck, the soft sensation making you bite back a groan.

Suddenly, you felt a warm presence between your legs, a muscular thigh that was solid yet comforting. It took a moment for you to register the protective arm draped securely around your waist, pulling you closer against a firm, muscled chest.

"Wha--?" you started, your voice cracking as surprise jolted you fully awake.

Before you could react, a chill coursed through you as your shirt was ridden up, an audacious hand slipping underneath to splay across your bare skin.

"Shh, it's just me, baby," a deep voice whispered in your exposed left breast before sucking it into his mouth softly, tugging at the pink flesh with his teeth while rolling the other hardened nub between his fingers.

As he slid down even further, his tongue softly licking the valley between before finding its way into your cleavage, your mind reeled from the situation. You gasped at the feeling of his cool tongue tracing circles around the right nipple, tickling it lightly as it hardened even more under his touch.

Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair. It was familiar—too familiar. The scent of sandalwood and sea salt filled your senses—a scent you had known for years, a scent that brought back a flood of memories, reminding you of all the times he had made love to you on a beach house's balcony after one of his late-night strolls along the shore.

"Dong Wook…” you breathed out, the sound more like a plea than anything else. The name felt foreign on your tongue after so long, tasting bitter and sweet at the same time.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, his voice a soothing hum in the quiet room. "I missed you."

"I--I don't know what to say," you stammered, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

"Just relax. All you have to do is open up those pretty legs and let me fuck this pussy once again.”

His tongue found its way into your mouth; you tasted the remnants of the Merlot from last night. You sucked on it eagerly, feeling him groan softly as he pushed deeper into your throat.

Hungry. You were hungry for him, starved for this intimacy that had been denied to you for too long. 

You couldn't believe it—this was Lee Dong Wook, the man who had once claimed not to know how to please a woman properly, who had once slept with dozens of nameless starlets and models just to forget your name.

Letting go of your lips, his head found its way into your neck and his hand slid further up, pressing against the mound hidden by your silk pajamas.

You didn't trust yourself enough to speak, fearing your voice would betray the growing need twisting inside you. Instead, you responded by parting your legs slightly, granting him access to your cunt.

Expertly unbuttoning your pajamas with his other hand, Dong Wook spread the fabric apart, revealing all of you to his hungry gaze. 

Your pussy glistened in the dim light, a testament to the tangible evidence of your arousal. He swept away your slit with one broad thumb, gathering slick and marveling at how wet and ready you were for him.

"That's my good girl.”

Unable to resist any longer, he dipped two fingers into your slick folds while his thumb continued its sensual assault on your swollen nub. Pleasure started to unfold in waves of white heat, and the combination made you utter moans.

With a devilish smirk, he withdrew his hand and brought it up to his mouth, sucking on one finger. 

"Fuck, you're so wet and sweet for me, honey. Tell me, didn't any of your flings with those little boys in the set make you cum like I used to? Or were they so young that the only things they observed were these lovely curves and a treat for their hands?

His words stung, but the ache between your legs pulsed with need, completely drowning out any traces of regret.

In the haze of his touch, you were lost. It was obvious that you ought to halt him, shoo him away, and remind him of what he had done to you—severing all ties, abandoning you while he toured the globe filming and failed to remember you existed.

But the truth was that you missed him, missed the sensations his mouth could create in your mouth, and missed the way his hands could change from being rough to being gentle in an instant.

“Shut up, Lee.”

There it was, the opening salvo of a fight, but he ignored it, knowing that once you got past this hurdle, you would be his again.

He rewarded your honesty with a devilish grin before sliding his hand back between your legs, slipping his fingers deeper inside you. "Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl," he murmured against your skin before pressing his index and middle fingers deeper, crooking them to find your g-spot with practiced ease. “I guess I'm the only one who teaches nice manners to our daughter, huh?”

You moaned long and low, bucking against him. Your whole body felt like it was shivering underneath the touch, like a fever dream that turned into reality.

"Drop this shit before I decide to leave you with a purple dick."

"Calm down, darling… I'm just playing with you, hum?"

He pushed you down into the mattress then, holding your hips in place as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you in a rhythm that had your body trembling with need. 

You could feel the bed squeaking beneath you as you arched into him, craving more contact as he thrust faster and harder into your pussy, sliding off on to his fingers as if they were a big, thick dick. 

It was perfect; it hurt and felt amazing at the same time.

“Jesus…”

A whimper escaped before you could stop it, betraying how much you needed him inside of you again.

"Yeah, that's it. Just take it," he encouraged, watching with dark eyes as you moaned his name while his fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, finding that spot that always made you come apart.

"You need this; you need me."

He was right. You did need him in this moment, in this bed, even if it was wrong and twisted. You needed him to make you forget everything else—the cameras flashing, the public scrutiny, the anger. He'd always been good at distracting you from all that.

"Oh, fuck," you moan into the pillow, feeling the pleasure coiling inside you like a snake ready to strike. Your wetness pours down his hand and fingertips before it drips onto the comforter beneath you. 

You open your eyes to look at him, seeing how he bites his lip in concentration as he works you open with his fingers, tongue and teeth. His dick twitches against your leg, eager and ready. There's no one else who can make you feel this way; there's no one else who could make love to your body with such precision even after all these years apart.

"Squirt for me, baby. I know you can, hum? Like old times.”

“I… I can't…” you whimper, but he doesn't let up.

“Shhhh, baby… Come on, you can let it out. Soak me. Soak the sheets. Show me how much you want me.” He urges, his words acting like a spell, pushing you further towards the edge.

His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing down on your clit in relentless circles while his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand slides up to your throat, fingers closing around it lightly, the threat of pressure making your pulse race even faster. 

Overwhelmed, you felt yourself let go, your walls clenching around his fingers as a rush of warmth gushed out of you. Your body arched as you squirted, your release soaking both his hand and the sheets beneath you. 

“Dong Wook!" you scream, the words echoing in the room as you come apart under his touch.

The sensation was too much; your body was sensitive and overstimulated. You whimpered, but his fingers didn't relent, continuing to stroke your swollen nub even as your body twitched and shuddered.

As you came down from your high, your mind felt foggy, and your body was limp. The surroundings softened into a comforting mist as you sank deeper into subspace. But he wasn't done yet.

Even as your body begged for a reprieve, he moved over you, his body pressing down on yours as he positioned himself at your slit.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, your voice weak and shaky.

“What do you think, wifey? I'm going to pound into you until you're begging for mercy. Going to fill you up so good, you'll be begging me for another baby. Want to give Yeosin a baby brother. Want to make a little version of me for her to play with. Can you imagine our son running around the house, causing trouble just like his father? But first...” he trails off, the hand on your throat, applying such pressure that dark spots form behind your eyelashes.

“First, I'm going to fuck you senseless."

Suddenly, your phone rings, the sound piercing the silence like a gunshot. You glance at the caller ID and see Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun, name flashing on the screen.

Well, he'd have to wait then.

"Dong Wook, it's Ji-Eun," you try to protest, but he ignores you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Let it ring. She can wait," he growls, and before you can protest further, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt inside your wet heat.

But the ringing never stops.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls.

With a sigh, Dong Wook grabs your phone from the bedside table, places it on the pillow next to you and answers.

Before the line could finally connect, he changes positions, seating himself against the headboard with you straddled in his lap. Your breasts bounce with every single movement, and soft moans spill from your mouth as he continues to thrust into you.

"Hello?" He breathes into the phone, his voice steady as if he isn't buried deep inside you. His free hand grips your hip, guiding you up and down his length at a relentless pace while he talks to Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun.

"Dong Wook, what the hell were you thinking?" She scolds from the other end of the line. "You can't just arrange for you and your ex-wife to share a room, no matter how many strings you pull!"

Dong Wook chuckles lowly. “Well, it seems our plan worked perfectly then," he murmurs in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin. His words surprise you, making you pause.

He planned this?

Ignoring your shocked expression, he continues his conversation. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, Ji-Eun, but there's no need to go yelling at the manager or looking for another room. We're adults; we can handle this." He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh lift of his hips, ripping a breathy moan from your throat.

Meanwhile, Ji-Eun continues her rambling, her words becoming background noise as you frown, scratching his shoulders and trying not to lose your shit. It would be humilliating coming all over his dick only from seeing it poking your belly.

Suddenly, Dong Wook pulls the phone away from his ear, offering it to you. "I think she wants to talk to you," he murmurs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kisses your nose.

You glare at him, about to protest, but his hand encircles your bruised neck again, making you relent.

With a huff, you take the phone, pressing it to your ear as you try to keep your voice steady. "Hello?"

Dong Wook smirks, his hand dropping to join the other on your hips, guiding you up and down his length like a well-used doll again.

This man is the devil.

"Oh, thank God, you're there, honey." The older woman exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I was worried about you! I'm on my way to your room now. We need to sort this out."

Panic set in; the last thing you wanted was for her to see you in this compromising position. You had to dissuade her.

"No, wait! You don't need to do that. We're handling it. We're...we're talking things out," you lied, hoping she'd buy it. 

"Are you sure? I can be there in five." Her voice was filled with concern, but you could detect a hint of suspicion.

"Yes, we're fine. Really," you insisted, biting back a moan as Dong Wook hit a particularly sensitive spot. "We'll...we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Goodnight."

Abruptly, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the nearby bedside table, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

Turning your wrath on him, you struck his chest with all the strength you could muster. "I swear I'm going to kill you, you absolute jerk!”

"Oh really?" He groaned in response, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "But darling, before you commit homicide, don't you think you should let me leave a lasting heir on this divine body of yours?"

Before you could lash out again, his other hand darted out, capturing your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm effectively stopping your hand from making contact with his broad chest again.

“I want you.”

“You’re crazy, Lee! Delusional, old, out of your damn mind!”

“I’m yours too and I still love you.”

His eyes eyed you hungrily, his gaze dark with desire and something else. Something that made your heart pound out of your chest, something that made you weak in the knees. He loved you once, and he loves you still.

Or maybe it wasn't love anymore—maybe it was possession, maybe it was lust—but it felt real in that moment. You couldn't resist him, no matter how hard you tried.

“L-love me?” you husk, staring at him in disbelief as you feel his cock pulsating inside you. He pushes deeper, but you don't resist. You feel an odd mix of anger and desire, pain and pleasure, all mingling together into an intoxicating brew.

His tongue flicks out, licking your lips as he leans down, his face close enough that your noses touch. "Yes, I do," he murmurs against your lips. "And I always will." His voice is low and rough with want as he kisses you gently before plunging his hips once more.

In the end, you realized that it wasn't about fairness. It was about acceptance. Acceptance of the past, acceptance of the present, and acceptance of the potential of the future. It was about opening up that vacant room in your heart once more, dusting off the cobwebs and letting the light in.

Maybe it was welcomeness. Maybe it was time to let go of the pain of the past and embrace the possibility of a new beginning. Maybe it was time to let Dong Wook find his way back not as a prodigal son but as a cherished guest. Maybe it was time to let love bloom once more.

And just like that, the vacant room wasn't so vacant anymore.

[velvetcloxds]

Looking for somebody =

+ could you pls make the reader chubby cus am chubby girl and it would be a comfort for me after today 😅❤ but only if you want to ofc anyways i hope you had a good day ♡♡<3

A FEW CENTURIES | C.C.

word count: 0.7k

warnings: chubby!reader, not specified anywhere but it's chubby-reader-friendly as always, I also have not read the vampire diaries books, just watched the show

summary: carlisle and edward find your obsession with the vampire diaries books a little ridiculous, especially when you've got your own house of vampires right there in the real world

It was a dangerous thing, reading around Edward, whatever you were reading was bound to count as entertainment for him as well, even if he was busing himself with his own thing which he always was. Lately, you'd been getting into a silly little series of books you'd been gifted as a joke at first, the writing wasn't really something to rave about but the characters had stolen your interest and you were deadset on finishing the whole series despite the mind reader's distain.

"Edward, I can't focus with all that ruckus," you noted with an overly dramatic sigh, expecting that very look to rest on his face as he caught you telling him off for doing something in his own home. He lifted his hands from the ivory keys of the piano with a sigh of his own. "Must you play while I'm reading?" you huffed and stuffed the faded receipt into your book to hold your place.

"Must you read while I'm playing?" he demanded in return and you heard the softest scoff from the kitchen where Carlisle was making you dinner, his favorite pastime as of late, making the most of his fancy kitchen on your behalf.

"Carlisle, your son is being insufferable," you noted with a delicate smirk, tilting your head back to see a similar look on his face as he met your gaze. "His irritation with my book has turned to actual sabotage."

"You truly think I spend my days planning ways to disrupt your reading?" Edward played a few notes, it wasn't half as bad as you'd expect from your words but it was untimely. How were you to focus on the current villain taking his shot to kill Elena if you were distracted by Edward's rendition of Mozart? "Burning those books of yours would take up much less of my time, this-" he pushed down onto a lower key, humming at the sound and chuckling lightly at your frown. "This is merely to help me endure it."

"You know, you may look like a teenager, Edward, but you can't hide the fact that you're really just a bitter old man," you informed him, and when he chuckled you did too, wanting to get back to your book. Still, you weren't all that bothered that you couldn't when Carlisle sat down on the couch next to you, giving the two of you a familiar look before taking the book from your hands and scanning the page.

"Bitter old men, she says," he mused, very perfectly landed on a page where Elena was stuck right in the middle of some vampire crisis having to be saved by a vampire named Damon who by the looks of it seemed more popular for his appearance than his actions based on Elena's reaction which didn't at all match her description of him. "Seems you have a type," he concluded and was sure to take note of the page you were on before closing the book and chucking it onto the coffee table.

"You jealous, my love?" you teased and he was happy to play along if it meant you'd draw closer to him, leaning onto his chest and brushing a hand around his neck.

"Should I be?" he furrowed his brows in mock concern, shamelessly dragging a hand to cup your waist, the other lifting your palm to steal a kiss, at the ever-disgusted expense of Edward who had gone back to playing as loud as he could.

"Never," you replied earnestly, kissing the tip of his nose before brushing against it with your own. "You're the only dead man I have eyes for," he pinched your waist at that, leaning in for a kiss of his own satisfaction only pleased when you smiled against his lips to end it. "Plus," you hummed, tugging lightly at the hair settled in the nape of his neck to keep his focus. "He's far too young for my liking, you got a good two or three centuries on him."

"Watch it, trouble," he laughed, smacking lightly at your behind when you jumped off him to taste whatever he'd concocted for your dinner.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

hi, the way this blog is formatted and the menu is written is so creative and fitting! i had a great time looking through it

may i request some fem reader w rocky? maybe him playing the violin or reciting poems in a public space to himself and reader is the only one to react (positively) so he immediately is struck in awe. please and thank you :)

Good evening, Anon!! First off, thank you very much for the compliment. Two things you should know, however...

This ended up over three thousand words long somehow. (For the record, it was gonna be a scenario.)

It's the cheesiest meet-cute I've ever written, so I advise you all to brace yourselves, folks-

That being said, enjoy!! <3

When you heard it, everything else quieted.

The thunder of cars bolting down a busy road, metal armor bobbing upon four wheels as they broke past and left smaugful clamor clashing against the monstrum business blocks, softened to but a distant skitter of shiny black bugs ambling self-importantly about. The cacophony of pedestrians, indiscernible faces in square suits and tasteful pastels spewing bits of language into one converging mess, each voice independent yet competing for dominance until they clawed at your eardrums and suffocated your thoughts now felt no graver than the meek rustle of forest foliage when coddled by the summer breeze; a humming chorus to a beautiful solist’s serenade, and when a bycicle trilled inches past normally skittish, city-dweller you it didn’t even occur to step aside as you were far too absorbed in the one delightful sound that made the greys of asphalt’s reign seem greyer and dulled even the most striking women’s daywear to sun-worn cleaning rags in comparison.

It was a melody the color of blue, matching his eyes.

You hadn’t a chance to admire them for long when you spotted him in the crowd. They drifted closed for long stretches of time as their owner’s features suggested a deep, gentle focus on the music, his whole being smoothing into the instrument. There was something bewitching about the violin, you found; seemed even its players could seldom resist its particular pull, fingers dancing across the strings as if possessed by magic. The rosined bow dipped to and fro in a hypnotic sequence that pulsed like the rise and ebb of the tides; sometimes the pace changed, slowed to but a meandering, peaceful ponderance before it flew from the threads of catgut like nimble sparks of lightning, with the ease and comfort of at least a thousand hours of practice.

Must’ve been a classical piece, if not improv; but for that far too complex. Vivaldi? Mozart? You hadn’t heard it before, so you couldn’t confirm, however it proved the enchanting stranger to be both talented and educated. He looked up from his divine craft to initiate eye contact with passersby and, yes, he had the bluest eyes indeed, seated under emphatic brows, and he gave a hopeful smile of such integrity to those undeserving strangers who walked past in indifference as if he’d been an smaug-borne ghost, a trick of the light invisible to all but yourself and when he turned in resignation and his gaze caught upon you, playing still, your breath hitched in your throat.

How long had you been gawking there, frozen on the sidewalk like a dimwit? Oh, no. He must have thought you such a creeper; a notion which you had to rectify, and rectify it quick. Puff your chest out, march up, tell him you liked his playing and leave a dime; you took off at once with this very plan in mind.

In doing so, you forgot you had stood on opposing sides of the road.

Heels clicked across hot concrete in a headlong hurry. You realized that the cars were still coming midway through when his eyes widened in horror and a spontaneous screech of tires replaced that joyous melody. You stumbled back, blinded by car polish and a pair of glaring headlights you profusely apologized to before skittering away from a second car in the right lane when it came to an angry halt likewise. Loud honks scolded you along your path whilst you yelled back sheepish sorries.

Well, talk about making an entrance.

As you reached the paved edge, a hand manifested to help you up on it.

“Are you alright, miss?”

And blue eyes. You felt yourself sink further into the road with the transient wish those cars had hit you after all, nonetheless took the offer and tottered along with the stranger’s help. He held bow and violin in his other hand, by the neck, and you narrowly avoided stepping on their rickety case with a meager amount of coins and a crumpled up bill inside.

Ah, right. He’d been busking, after all.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he reiterated, scanning you, and you realized you’d missed the previous question. “It’s hardly safe to cross this thoroughfare without looking both ways first, you know. You ought to try that next time.”

“I know, I know– I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

You weren’t. Not when this handsome vagabond with the most radiant blue oculars you’d ever seen and enough of a musical gift to put you in a trance kept observing you from such proximity whilst implicitly chiding you for being a tunnel-visioned idiot.

“Well, great news, then!” he grinned. Oh. That’s a lot of teeth, you noted with slightly raising eyebrows. “I doubt I’d have been able to sleep tonight had you met an undue fate under the stampede of these motorized beasts all for just trying to reach me.”

An odd penchant for metaphors, too. When you didn’t respond right away, he withdrew his gesturing hand in contemplation.

“You… were careening specifically my way, yes?”

“Yes!”

You snapped out of your appreciation for his endearingly boyish timbre and thereby commenced a frantic battle with your purse as you attempted to pry something from it.

“Right, I was heading this way– just give me a moment–”

He watched in intrigue as you counted something he couldn’t see under your breath, then produced the intended amount of what he identified to be cash and reached to hand it over to him, near breathless.

“I really loved your playing.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye yet hardly missed his astonishment when he conceived the sum.

“Miss, that’s ten dollars.”

“Yes,” you affirmed curtly. “What of it?”

“I can’t accept that.”

Hearing which, you did finally face him with a frown.

“You’re a very kind soul,” he asserted in a hurry, smile never faltering, “and I’m thoroughly humbled by your contribution, but I cannot rob a lady of her hard earned pay in good conscience for that frivolous noise–”

“It was beautiful noise,” you interjected with knitted brows, “I really did enjoy it, and you deserve much better audience than the pedestrians of some drab street corner who’ll never bother to pay your music the attention it deserves.”

You pointed curtly toward the flow of people. Some in turn spared you a glance, but then you blended into their scenery again like another pair of shop mannequins.

“So take it from a lady,” you enunciated, all but shoving the money in his chest, “and I sincerely hope you end up in a concert hall someday.”

You exhaled and waited. He stared at your extended hand, then you, then at your hand and back again and gorgeous as you found those gleaming sapphires you couldn’t for the life of you tell what he was thinking. Your arm muscles trembled, and you contemplated whether sparing yourself from the awkwardness of further playing statue might be worth giving up anyway.

Finally, he seized your wrist with both hands. He didn’t seem to notice your startlement as he was busy beaming at you bright enough to put celestial bodies to shame.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…”

God forsake it, that smile alone was turning your heart into a fluffy, overripe dandelion inside your chest. If he kept up, you feared he might just blow it apart.

But you managed to tell.

“Well, miss…” he began, implementing your surname, and you would’ve bolted on pure instinct had you not taken root at your spot, “your generous praise is, by far and large, the most invaluable gift I could’ve received on this brilliant morning.”

You took a deep inhale, acutely aware of his touch tingling across your skin even though he meant nothing by it… you supposed.

“You have certainly made a lowly troubadour’s day with your gracious approbation,” he patted your knuckles, at the same time gently shoving your offer away. “You see, I could tell from the moment our gazes locked across the street that I would enjoy the pleasure of meeting someone positively extraordinary… right after she ambled through the active traffic. Call it a concise connection of kindred souls, if you will. You, miss, have proved yourself a true appreciator of the arts.”

When those blue eyes were holding yours hostage so intently, you almost did believe he could see into your very soul. You tried to brave it, however.

“Thank y–”

“Which is why this won’t be needed.”

You held the rejected money against your chest, where he had guided it.

“You’ll be better off forfeiting it to charity,” he suggested, “if aiding the honest predicaments of your fellow citizens in need is a cause dear to your heart. Like orphans! Those poor, unmothered things, always caught in the throes of some quintessential lack or other; surely they could put your benevolent funds to good use… that is, in case you are looking to make a charity. If you’re not interested in, erm, providing for the orphans, that’s still quite fine. You just seem to me the sort to care for children. But that doesn’t make it your obligation, of course, to feed the orphans… no one is about to force that duty upon you… in equally sound conscience I suppose you could just as well keep the money…”

He proceeded along his mildly morally concerned tangent, but any of it beyond the lip movements you ceased to process. Some convoluted cliché about personal indulgence over supporting the waifs of the world, you reckoned. In terms of lifting your spirits it achieved a ludicrous heap of nothing, and amidst your silent marinating in this strange and unexpected failure of your strange and unexpected encounter, you continued to clutch the bills to yourself.

You didn’t figure that may have looked like dismay on his end until he trailed off, fidgeting vaguely as he probed your expression. The warmth of his hands on yours still lingered.

“My attempt at a point is,” he resumed at a slower pace, “you’re awful generous, but to tell you the truth, I’m quite comfortably off without the help. I am employed, after all.”

“You are?”

Rude as it sounded to gape the question so, you hadn’t considered that possibility. He was… well, not badly dressed, but his clothes appeared worn and a tad oversized on his comically skinny limbs, granting him a ragamuffin sort of appearance.

Though you still found it quite charming.

“Sure am!” he grinned in earnest, and you’d soon come to accept that his face simply looked that way when he did. “This is only some nifty supplemental income for a craft I spend day and night honing anyway. Really, I play out here to preserve my associates’ peace of mind more than anything. The other day they got so peeved with all the melodic caterwauling my boss had to fetch a broomstick and chase me out into the great wide open after failing to quiet me down.”

A chuckle escaped you at the joke, and it’s like his eyes gleamed brighter.

“What can I say,” he admitted with a theatrical shrug, “a musician’s ichor pulses to the ever-flowing rhythm of higher realms beckoning. That can hardly be helped. When my eager heart doesn’t sing Apollo’s odes from the strings, it reaches for the lyre, however… but they don’t deal in stanzas and limericks on the job market in contemporary times.” He glanced off into the distance wistfully, as if envisioning an ideal future where they did. “Miss M, our aforementioned lady-in-charge, says it’s only since our customers can’t exactly do the Lindy Hop to recitativo verse form.”

“So that means you’re a poet?”

“Indeed!”

You hummed in acknowledgement. He gave his vest a proud little adjustment as part of the performance, not that it served to make him look any more presentable.

“Vivacious vicinal versificator,” he expatiated with a playful half-bow, “humble herald of numinous inspiration, eulogizing the beauties of this peculiar earthly life to the cobblestone and the stars for a passtime. Old Muddy Miss herself has proven to be my most faithful audience… and for lack of substantial competition, in her listening skills she remains unexcelled.”

“Not for long, I should hope.”

That made him pause. Your nerves struck you alert as you rushed to explain.

“That is, well, I would be curious to join said, um, audience… mayhaps… sometime. I mean– you have a fascinating vocabulary, sir, so I can only imagine…”

He listened on with perplexed blue eyes; you mentally smacked yourself for the honorific. No one so refreshingly unrefined as this overeager stray puppy of a man could even remotely qualify for a ‘sir’, and you were happy about that, because had you made so many social blunders with any other stranger in succession you would’ve craved death.

He took his sweet time providing a readable reaction, but when he did he laughed. Not with a mocking edge, as you had feared; the sound tinkled as melodically as his trusty violin.

“Oh, miss, you’re just a bundle of pleasant surprises.”

You came to chuckle along, too, a nervous smile stretching your lips. He took your hand again.

“I’d be delighted to deliver a private recital,” he dipped forward then paused, perhaps contemplating whether a kiss on the back of it would be appropriate, peering up at you in a bluest display of rapt attention that made your heart leap, “if that’s truly the case.”

You averted your eyes. The vague unease as if you’d given your name to a fae in a stroke of recklessness minutes prior melted into the bustle of sluggish, smoke-ridden traffic.

“So where is it that you work?” you switched the topic.

Attuned, he let go of your hand as if it had burned him, adjusting his hat like an excuse.

“Little Daisy Café,” he responded quickly, perpetual cheer intact. “It’s just an ambitious spit from here, actually, a few blocks down that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where you’d been headed. “Awful cute little gem of an establishment. Perhaps you’ve been to?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Well, I can only recommend that you drop by. The pancakes are to die for.”

“And there’s live music?”

You both glanced at the violin, then back at each other. He gave you another grin that you couldn’t help but detect as somewhat complicit.

“Makes your early beverage taste all the sweeter.”

You let your eyes linger on one of the boutique windows in the background; a closed one under construction. The ample light struck it at an angle which obscured the debris-filled darkness and activity inside, flawless glass surface glimmering at front in gorgeous deceit. Its reflective sheen conjured an alluring vision; deep azure sky dotted with fringed, fluffy lamb-clouds.

Suppose you offered it.

“Well, if you won’t let yourself be tipped,” you sighed, putting your money away, “may I treat you to breakfast, at least? A plate of those fabled pancakes, even?”

Childlike delight flashed across his face before the metaphorical reins were pulled back with a frantic grip.

“Why, miss, you’re spoiling me,” he lamented, “but I really shouldn’t–”

“I was heading for the bakery myself,” you continued with a pacifying gesture, “but now with your recommendation in mind, I might as well try a treat from that ‘little gem’ of a café, no? You could show me the way there, and… I suppose I could listen to those stanzas of yours, if you’d be willing to share…”

The words intended to compose the rest of your reasoning kept tumbling from your grasp before you could string them together, and someone in the crowd of pedestrians laughed. A snooty, feminine laugh. He kept watching you and you only, however, engulfing you in that mysterious blue once again.

“…granted that is okay with you, of course.”

He began to smile like the sun itself and dove with startling momentum for the violin case.

“Why, it’d be most uncouth to refuse the benevolent offer of such lovely ladyship,” he concluded while packing away his instrument then slapped the lid over the case once finished, money withstanding, “and I don’t reckon I’ll make two more pennies to rub together this morning, so I’d be more than happy to escort you along.”

He grabbed the handle and sprung up, beaming at you with the energy of a couple additional suns before he got an idea and moved to offer his free arm toward you like the smoothest of gallants. Clearing his throat, to boot.

“Mademoiselle?”

You put a hand to your chest, accentuating the action with a playful once-over.

“Chivalrous,” you chuckled before locking his arm with your own. The two of you would set off this way not unlike lovers, which he stiffened at the realization of.

“Too much?” he questioned.

“No, it’s quite alright.”

The cracks in the sidewalk became very interesting all of a sudden, however. You could feel his skinniness and lack of musculature thus far only guessed through the rolled-sleeved shirt; not that you minded.

Must have not gotten treated to meals often.

“About that poetry,” he piped up a bit quieter than before, “granted you won’t tire of my voice ahead of time…”

“Don’t be silly.”

You gave him a look, then caught yourself.

“Well, alright,” he resigned with an evaluating pout when you turned away, “but, uh… unfortunately, most of my limbs are occupied. And the fervent gesticulation makes up half the performence.”

By that point, you found yourself believing him. You all but burst into laughter at the mental image.

“Maybe you can gesticulate it to me after the fact,” you quipped.

“…Fair enough.”

You reached a street corner together and turned it. From the corner of your eye, a young couple were teasing each other by a flower shop on the opposite side of the road with a posy gift of piquant red tulips, blushing and giggling. You matched the bouncing steps of the stranger you were intertwined with in newfound giddiness.

“Let’s see,” he pondered, scanning the rows of buildings in an absent-minded manner before his eyes lit up. “Right! As fortune would have it, there does happen to be one I’ve been itching to inflict on a willing pair of ears for the past week…”

He made a big show of clearing his throat before he began; you were eager to let the mesmerized flow that had brought you to him in the first place take you along, absorbing the dramatic inflection and animated spirit oozing from his entire complexion as he made the widest gestures he was capable of in his inhibited position nonetheless.

A stranger indeed…

“Wait!”

Before he could proceed with any experimental odes to clay and calicos, you cut him off. He turned to you right away, magic put on hold.

“I never caught your name.”

He glanced around in recollection before those notorious brows sprung up.

“I never passed it,” he exclaimed, bewildered, and wriggled from your hold haphazardly as he scrambled for his hat. “Oh, foolish I! Forgive me this horrendous discourtesy, milady, if you might find it in your heart.”

You simply observed him in amusement.

A zephyr swept along the length of the street, bringing where you stood a nectarine fragrance which, though delicate, transcended the heavy smoke and for a delightful moment let you smell nothing but itself. With his hat now off and held politely to his chest, the breeze ruffled his tousled hair as it did yours. His blue eyes shone in the urban grey like diamonds.

“The name is Rocky Rickaby.”

And when he said it, you already knew you wouldn’t tire of that voice anytime soon.

[ceruleanwhore]

So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics floating around the Cybird/Ikemen fandom spaces about pregnancy or having children, but I have yet to see any childfree content at all, as @sevenai pointed out in a post they made about ikevamp. As such, I’ve put together a list of childfree headcanons for all the ikevamp men for those of us who want such things.

Napoleon — After the tragedy of his only legitimate son’s premature death during his life, I think it’s perfectly plausible that he would not want to try to produce another child of his own. Besides, the children he teaches with Isaac do more than enough to fill the void and warm his heart. I imagine that, at some point, the topic of children would come up and, when his partner would nervously disclose that she doesn’t actually want to have any of their own, he would feel relief.

Leo — Being in a relationship with anyone at all (especially a human) is already more than enough heartbreak, I don’t think he could handle producing a child of his own that he would then have to watch die someday even though no parent should ever outlive their child.

Mozart — This man is obsessive about cleanliness and absolutely cannot tolerate noise. There’s no way in hell he’s ever having a kid.

Arthur — He had five children in his life and so I feel like, for him, he’s already done that and sufficiently fulfilled that desire, so now he doesn’t feel the need to do it over again in this second life. I think he’d be willing to give it a go if that’s what his partner wanted, but I also think he’d be just as content not to.

Vincent — I get that in ikevamp he’s a sweet boy, but he has a past full of tremendous mental health struggles, and I think he’d be afraid of passing that to any potential children. I also think he would be worried about his ability to care for a child.

Isaac — Dude’s already worried he’s going to snack on Comte’s ferret or something, like being in a relationship with a human is PLENTY for him to worry about. Also, he’s a good person who views himself as a dangerous monster, which means he definitely won’t be having kids any time soon. Plus, like Napoleon, he has their little gaggle that they teach and that is genuinely plenty for him. Yeah, I think he’d be perfectly happy to have his partner tell him that there is no desire for children on their part.

Theo — I think he’d be more apathetic about children, where he doesn’t really have a desire for them but he would be willing to have kids if that’s what his partner wanted. He already has his partner, his bother, and his career, and that is more than enough for him to be happy.

Jean — First off, Jean is 19. Secondly, he hates himself and what he is, like Carlisle from Twilight. Maybe he would’ve wanted kids in life, but there is no way in hell he’d want to create half vampire spawn.

Will — Given that he was always running away from his wife and kids in his life, I think it’s safe to assume he never wanted them, even before he died. I think, given the context of his real marriage with Anne, he would be grateful to discover that his partner doesn’t want to have kids with him and it would be another indicator to him that this relationship is actually a good match.

Comte — I think he has no desire of his own for children and I also think he is hella devoted to whoever he chooses to be in a relationship with and will do anything to make them happy, so even if he did want kids he still would 100% fold to a childfree partner. There’s also that element of tragedy like with Leonardo that we’ll also see with Vlad.

Dazai — He’s either actively suicidal or very recently got better and definitely does not feel like he has the capacity to care for a child. Also, someone who hates themselves so much they’d choose to become a vampire solely so they could live long enough to kill their infant self is definitely not going to want to reproduce. Like Isaac, he sees himself as dangerous and I don’t think he would trust himself with something like having kids and I think that being in a relationship is already massively stressful for him.

Sebastian — He has a terminal illness, so there could be concern about passing whatever it is to any future children. He also probably would just not want to have to subject children to dealing with his inevitable, premature death. Even without all that, like if he can get magically cured by Faust or something, I don’t really see him actively wanting to have children, like I think he’d be more of a “travel the world with your partner in a delightfully comfortable DINK arrangement” kind of guy.

Vlad  — Yeah I think he’d 100% just be a “whatever you want” guy who values his partner above all else, including potential people who don’t exist yet.

Faust  — He’s kinda weird with kids tbh in a way that reminds me of myself — uncomfortable but kind of nice and gives in easily to whatever they want — which makes me think he doesn’t really like them and doesn’t really want them. I could see him kind of wanting to reproduce with a human as an experiment, but I really don’t see him genuinely desiring to have children.

Charles  — I get the vibe that he’ll be a very possessive yandere once he’s in a relationship and won’t want to share his partner with anyone at all, including potential children of their own. He actually gives me the impression that even if his partner came to him and shared that they genuinely wanted to have children with him, he might insist they not because of this trait of his.

[natimiles]

Arthur & Isaac: relationship headcanons

Tags: sfw; relationship interactions; first kisses.

Notes: just some random thoughts about my lovely couple :3 It got longer than I anticipated, HIASUEHAS

♡ It’s hard to pinpoint who fell first and who fell harder. Arthur was the one to try getting closer, but he wasn’t really sure if it was that type of love. 

♡ Arthur loves PDA, while Isaac wants to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself. The writer knows how shy his boyfriend can be and he tries to play it cool, but his teasing side usually wins.

♡ They always hold hands when walking around the mansion or secluded places. If they go to town, they don’t always do it, but they’re always glued side by side. Sometimes Arthur throws his arm around Isaac’s shoulder in the most nonchalant way he can — and it’s only a coincidence that it always happens when someone tries to flirt with Isaac, and the physicist stutters while looking at Arthur, pleading for a rescue, okay?

♡ Lots of kisses. When they wake up, when they say goodnight, when Isaac leaves the mansion for work, when Arthur goes to meet his editor in town, and even when they’re still inside the mansion but need to go to separate rooms to concentrate on work — although they often end up getting distracted by each other and falling back into each other’s arms.There are always kisses, and they’re always deep and full of love.

♡ They used to kiss in front of the other residents too. Correction: Arthur used to pull Isaac in for a kiss at any time of the day, whether they were alone in the bedroom or in the middle of a banquet with everyone in the dining room. Mozart always rolled his eyes, Napoleon smirked, Theo teased and complained they were tainting his brother, Vincent said they were adorable together, and Jean pretended he wasn’t seeing a thing because he thought those things were supposed to be done only when alone. Despite the reactions, Arthur would continue to pull Isaac closer for a kiss. They only stopped when Isaac agreed with Jean, suggesting they should keep the PDA to a minimum.

♡ (Arthur still tries to steal kisses in hidden corners though. Spoiler alert: they’re not so hidden, and Isaac knows exactly what he’s trying to do.)

♡ Their first kiss was while stargazing. Isaac had set up the telescope in the garden and was stargazing and taking notes when Arthur arrived. The writer came with the excuse of bringing him coffee and a blanket for the cold night. And after all those months of flirting (in the form of bantering), exchanging meaningful glances, and making Isaac a blushing mess, Arthur finally grabbed him by the lapels and crushed their lips together. It was eager, messy, loving, gentle, and awkward. Exactly like them.

♡ Isaac can fluster Arthur as much as Arthur can fluster him. Once, Isaac gave him a drawing of the position of the stars. Arthur already thought they were pretty, but then Isaac (God bless his soul, he was blushing the most furiously he’d ever seen) told him it was the alignment of the stars from the night they first kissed. The physicist had never seen his boyfriend speechless for so long.

♡ Isaac is an ‘acts of service’ lover, while Arthur is ‘words of affirmation’, but they make it work really well for both. Isaac will tidy Arthur’s room when he’s too busy, open the windows, and bring him coffee and fudge. He also tries to learn how to voice his feelings more. Arthur, on the other hand, will try to understand all those formulas and physics rambles, and offer praise for how smart Isaac is and what a good teacher he is becoming. He will also express gratitude for every little thing Isaac does for him.

♡ They both enjoy quality time as well, so sometimes they simply sit side by side and work in silence, holding hands.

♡ They have matching piercings as their commitment rings, and I will die on this hill. Arthur pierced Isaac’s ear for him.

♡ In a Modern AU, they also wear matching nail polish.

Taglist: @bicayaya @silverbladexyz @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest @chevcore @fang-and-feather

Masterlists

[vampiresawakenedmycravings]

saw you were taking requests so… reader showing one of the Cullens the music they listen to?

I didn’t really understand what you m

EDWARD CULLEN

• Classical music, like Chopin or Debussy

• Melancholic and introspective songs, such as “Lose You” by Pete Yorn

• Atmospheric and ethereal music like Sigur Rós

BELLA SWAN

• Indie and alternative rock, e.g., “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley

• Mellow and acoustic songs, like “Breathe” by Taylor Swift

• Music that expresses deep emotions, such as “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day

JACOB BLACK

• Rock and country music, like “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd

• Energetic and spirited songs, such as “Born to Be Wild” by Steppenwolf

• Music that reflects his connection to nature, like folk and acoustic tunes

ALICE CULLEN

• Upbeat and playful music, like “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves

• Pop and dance tracks, e.g., “Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars

• Anything with a sense of optimism and excitement

ROSALIE HALE

• Classical or orchestral music, like Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake”

• Glamorous and dramatic songs, such as “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen

• Music that matches her sense of beauty and luxury

EMMET CULLEN

• High-energy rock and metal, e.g., “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC

• Pump-up anthems like “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor

• Anything with a strong and powerful sound

JASPER CULLEN

• Calming and soothing music, like Enya

• Blues or soulful tracks that capture emotion, e.g., “I’d Rather Go Blind” by Etta James

• Music that helps him maintain emotional control

😍😍😍😍CARLISLE CULLEN😍😍😍😍

• Classical and orchestral pieces, especially those by composers like Beethoven and Mozart

• Soothing and calming instrumental music

• Music that reflects his scholarly and refined nature

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night (Louis Tomlinson x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Anonymous request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do Louis Tomlinson x fem! Reader who is in the band, her and Louis always had a flirty relationship but always told people it was a joke until one night during one of their tours things get heated between them and they hook up, a few weeks later reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Louis so she goes to her best friend Niall Horan for advice and Louis ends up over hearing them? Smut and fluff please!!

Tags: Louis x reader, friends to lovers, smut, pregnancy, fluff, angst

…

The arena hums softly with the buzz of amps and muffled conversations, but your focus is already on Louis, who stands near the drum kit, spinning a drumstick between his fingers with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. This is how it’s always been with the two of you—partners in chaos, constantly toeing the line of what you can get away with, but never crossing it. The harmless flirting, the relentless teasing—it’s your thing.

“Don’t even think about it,” you call out, a grin tugging at your lips.

Louis turns to you, all innocence and dimples. “Think about what, love?”

“Oh, you know exactly what,” you say, stepping closer. “Put the stick down before you get us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” he echoes, mock-offended. “I am the very definition of responsibility.”

“You’re the definition of a menace,” you retort, grabbing the other drumstick off the snare. You twirl it between your fingers and smirk at him. “If you’re going to cause chaos, at least make it entertaining.”

His eyes light up at your challenge. “I knew I could count on you, partner.”

Before anyone can stop you, Louis taps the microphone stand with his drumstick, and you follow suit, matching his rhythm with the snare drum. The resulting cacophony blares through the speakers, earning a collective groan from Liam and the sound crew.

“Really?!” Liam barks from center stage, throwing his hands up. “Do you two have to do this every time?”

“Yes,” you and Louis say in unison, both grinning like kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Unbelievable,” Liam mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, lighten up, Payno,” Louis says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re just making things more fun.”

“Fun is subjective,” Liam replies, deadpan.

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him, already pulling you toward the piano at the corner of the stage. “Come on, let’s give them a real show.”

You follow without hesitation, laughing as you plop down on the bench beside him. “Alright, Mozart, let’s hear it.”

“Watch and learn, darling,” he says, cracking his knuckles dramatically before slamming his fingers onto the keys.

The result is an aggressively off-key rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and you immediately burst into laughter, doubling over as he continues his “masterpiece.”

“Wow,” you say between giggles, clapping along. “Move over, Beethoven. Louis Tomlinson has arrived.”

“I know,” he says smugly, tossing you a wink. “Don’t be jealous of my talent.”

“Talent?” you tease, leaning closer. “This is more like a crime against music.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “But I’ll forgive you because you look cute when you’re pretending to be unimpressed.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Who says I’m pretending?”

He falters for a split second, just enough for you to notice, before recovering with a smirk. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but the playful tone in your voice makes it clear you’re enjoying every second.

The moment lingers, his eyes locked on yours, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension. But before anything can happen, Liam’s voice cuts through like a bucket of cold water.

“Enough!” he shouts. “Can we please get back to work?”

Louis groans dramatically, standing up and offering you a hand. “Fine, Payno. We’ll behave. For now.”

“Behaving’s overrated anyway,” you say, letting him pull you to your feet.

He grins, leaning in just enough to make your heart race. “Spoken like a true partner in crime.”

You smirk back, the flush creeping up your neck impossible to hide. “You couldn’t handle this partnership without me.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, before finally letting you go.

As you return to your spot on stage, his laughter still ringing in your ears, you can’t help but feel the familiar thrill that comes with being Louis’s partner in crime. This is just how it’s always been—safe, playful, and light. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

…

The club is alive with pulsing music, flashing lights, and the hum of conversation. The six of you—plus a few crew members—have commandeered a booth near the dance floor, a place to regroup between rounds of drinks and bursts of reckless fun. The night is supposed to be lighthearted, a rare break in the chaos of touring. But your attention keeps drifting toward the bar, where Louis leans casually against the counter, chatting up a pair of girls who can’t stop giggling at whatever he’s saying.

You take another sip of your drink, the sharp burn of tequila doing little to distract you. It shouldn’t bother you. This is Louis, after all—flirty, charming, and always ready to make someone’s night with a cheeky grin. It’s harmless. Always harmless. Just like it’s always been with you and him.

But tonight, it stings.

“You alright there, love?”

Niall’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find him sliding into the booth beside you, a fresh pint in hand. His blue eyes are sharper than they should be after three rounds, catching onto your mood immediately.

“Fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

Niall snorts, following your gaze toward Louis. “Ah. Him.”

“Him what?” you ask, though your tone is defensive even to your own ears.

“You’re watching him like he owes you money,” Niall says, smirking, but his voice softens when he adds, “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, swirling your drink in your hand. Niall’s always been the one you confide in, the one who listens without judgment. But this—whatever this is—feels like dangerous territory.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

“Sure it is,” he says, leaning closer. “Come on. You’re never this quiet.”

You glance at Louis again, just in time to see him lean in to whisper something in one of the girls’ ears. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“It’s stupid,” you say, setting your glass down with more force than necessary. “I just… I don’t get how he can be like that. Flirting with everyone, acting like it’s all a game.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “That’s just Louis, though. You know that.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, staring at the condensation on your glass. “But sometimes I wonder if it’s ever not a game for him. If he ever actually means it.”

Niall doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Finally, he says, “And what if he does? Would that change things?”

You laugh, though it’s bitter and hollow. “Not for him. He’d still be Louis, and I’d still be the idiot who gets worked up over it.”

“Hey,” Niall says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. You care about him. That’s not stupid.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he’s put words to something you’ve been trying to deny. “I didn’t say I care about him.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His voice is kind, but it hits you like a punch to the gut. You reach for your drink again, draining the rest of it in one go.

“Okay,” you say, standing up abruptly. “I need another one.”

“Hang on,” Niall says, grabbing your wrist before you can escape. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re already—”

“Drinking?” you interrupt, flashing him a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s kind of the point.”

Niall lets you go, watching as you make your way to the bar. You don’t look at Louis as you order another round, but you can feel his presence—his laughter, his charm—like a static charge in the air.

When you return to the booth, Niall’s still waiting, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell him, you know,” he says quietly.

“Tell him what?”

“Whatever it is you’re feeling. If you’re not ready, that’s okay.”

You sit down, your drink clutched tightly in your hands. “What if I never am?”

Niall shrugs, his usual easygoing demeanor softening. “Then that’s okay, too. But just… don’t beat yourself up over it, alright? He’s an idiot, but he’d be even more of one not to see how great you are.”

You manage a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade. Across the room, Louis throws his head back in laughter, and you drain your drink, trying not to think about what it would mean if Niall was right.

...

You’re halfway through your drink, the alcohol starting to make the room blur at the edges, when you feel someone slide into the booth beside you. It’s not Niall this time—he’s gone to the bar for another round.

“Having fun, partner?”

You don’t need to look to know it’s Louis. His voice, low and warm, cuts through the haze like a match striking in the dark.

“Loads,” you reply, your tone sharper than you intended. You focus on your glass, not him.

There’s a pause, and then he leans closer, so close you can feel the heat of him against your arm. “What’s got you in a mood, then?”

You scoff, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Why would I be in a mood?”

Louis’s brow furrows, and he studies you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Dunno. That’s why I’m asking.”

You shrug, trying to brush him off. “It’s nothing. Go back to your fans.”

Realization dawns in his expression, and his lips curve into a small smirk. “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. He tilts his head toward the bar, where the girls he’d been chatting with have moved on. “They’re just fans, love. Took a couple photos, had a laugh. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, taking another sip of your drink.

“Clearly, it does,” he counters, his voice dipping lower.

You glance at him, and the teasing edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something quieter. More serious. It makes your stomach flip, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin.

“I just don’t get how you can do it,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Turn it on and off like it’s nothing.”

Louis stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours. Then he leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You think it’s nothing?”

You don’t answer, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not. I just… I don’t know. It’s easier sometimes to keep it light, you know? Keeps people from expecting too much.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you look away, focusing on the dance floor instead. It feels safer than looking at him when he’s being like this—honest and raw in a way that catches you off guard.

Louis follows your gaze, then nudges you with his shoulder. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

You blink at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you. “Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up.”

It’s a challenge, one you’d normally accept without hesitation. But tonight, there’s something heavier in the air between you, something that makes you hesitate.

“Louis…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Just one dance, love. For old time’s sake.”

You sigh, finishing the last of your drink before placing your hand in his. His grip is warm and steady as he pulls you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor.

The music is loud and fast, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. He spins you around dramatically, earning a laugh despite yourself, and when he pulls you close, his grin is infectious.

“There she is,” he says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, though you’re not sure it’s true.

“No?” he asks, leaning in until his lips are just inches from your ear. “Then what are you?”

The question lingers, hanging between you as the beat of the music thrums in your chest. You glance up at him, your breath catching at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, your fingers tighten around his, and you let him pull you closer.

The music is deafening, the bass vibrating through your chest as Louis pulls you closer. The heat of the crowd presses in around you—sweaty bodies moving together in time with the pulsing beat—but all you can feel is him. His hand rests lightly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin where your top has ridden up, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

You match his rhythm, your bodies swaying together as the lights flash and the room spins in a blur of color and sound. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs something you can’t hear over the music. But it doesn’t matter, because the low rasp of his voice alone makes your pulse race.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire club has faded away.

He’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before, like he’s trying to memorize every detail. And you can’t look away.

“Louis,” you manage to say, but your voice is swallowed by the music.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls you even closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, and it’s almost too much.

The air between you is charged, thick with something you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either. And when his lips brush against your temple—soft, almost tentative—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your resolve snaps.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and tug him toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until you find a dark hallway leading toward the bathrooms.

“Here?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless as you pull him into the dimly lit space.

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” you reply, your back pressing against the wall as he steps closer, crowding into your space.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on your hips in an instant, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes your head spin. It’s all heat and desperation, months of tension unraveling in a single, searing kiss.

You fist your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your lips. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you arch into him, gasping when his mouth moves to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low and strained.

But stopping is the last thing on your mind. “Don’t,” you whisper.

The noise of the club fades into a dull throb, your pulse pounding in your ears as Louis pulls you deeper into the hallway. His grip is unrelenting, his hand firm around your wrist as he guides you toward the dimly lit bathroom, the air thick with the sharp scent of alcohol and sweat. When you step inside, he doesn’t hesitate. He closes the door behind you with a soft thud, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already pulling you toward him, his hands sliding to the curve of your waist.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice low, gravelly, as he looks you over. His eyes darken with something primal, raw. "I need you."

The way he says it—like there’s no choice in the matter, like he’s been waiting for this—makes your stomach flutter with anticipation. Your heart races as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His body presses flush against yours, the heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

You’re suddenly aware of everything—his breath against your skin, the brush of his chest against yours, the sensation of his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he carries you toward one of the stalls. The door bangs against the wall as he kicks it open with a force that leaves you breathless. You barely register it, too caught up in the way he’s looking at you—so intensely, so urgently—that it’s like the entire world outside has ceased to exist.

Louis doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. He presses you back against the door, and the sharp click of the lock echoes in the small space. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, deliberately, until the cool air hits your skin. The contrast of the cold on your warm body makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of him against you.

"God, you're perfect," he mutters under his breath, his eyes raking over you like he can’t quite believe you’re here. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes your pulse spike. He’s everywhere at once—his lips, his hands, his body—leaving no space between the two of you.

His lips trail lower, his breath hot as it brushes against your collarbone, and you can’t help but shiver, arching into him as his hands slip lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hips. “Louis,” you breathe, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“You want this,” he says, his voice rough with hunger as he presses his body into yours. His hands slide under your skirt, gripping your thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of your legs. The sensation sends a shock of desire through you, and you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

You’re both moving instinctively now—his body surging into yours, your hands tearing at his jeans, pushing them down just enough so you can feel the hard line of him pressing into you. You’re both breathless, desperate, as your bodies start moving together, finding a rhythm born from nothing but pure need.

The heat between you is overwhelming, suffocating. You can feel every inch of him against you, your bodies grinding together with a desperation that feels like it's been building for weeks, months even. His lips find yours again, more forcefully this time, his tongue slipping between your lips as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans against your mouth, his hands moving to the zipper of your skirt, tugging it down, leaving you exposed to him in the dim light.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, but the shock of it only fuels the fire between you. You push him back slightly, giving yourself enough room to pull off your panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. His eyes darken at the sight, and he groans again, his hands trembling slightly as they slide down your body.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mutters as he presses his body into yours again, the door rattling against the force of it. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth.

“You want me?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous, as his hands slide between your bodies, his fingers brushing against you, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I need you.”

And just like that, he’s pulling you closer, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he positions himself against you. The first thrust is slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t take long for the urgency to take over, for both of you to lose control.

Your bodies move together with a frantic rhythm, the pressure building, tightening, until you feel like you’re going to explode. The sensation is overwhelming, dizzying, and you cling to him, feeling his hands grip your skin like he’s afraid to let go. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear as he buries his face in your neck, his body pressing into yours with every thrust.

The world outside the stall is forgotten—there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rhythm of your bodies, the urgent need to feel more.

When it happens, it’s all at once—the sharp pull of release, the sensation of your body shuddering as he groans your name, the feeling of him inside you. You lose yourself in him completely, and for a moment, the entire world falls away, leaving nothing but the raw, pulsing connection between the two of you.

For a long time, neither of you speaks. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you stand there, still tangled together in the small, dimly lit stall. The air is thick, heavy with the aftermath, and the sound of the club’s music feels distant now, like it belongs to someone else’s world.

Louis rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your hips as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breathing slows, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, the intensity from moments ago replaced with something else. Something almost tender.

You nod, your hands tracing the lines of his back, still feeling the echo of his touch. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m more than okay.”

And for a brief, fleeting moment, it feels like everything has shifted.

...

The morning light seeps through the curtains, casting pale slivers across the room, and you wake with a pounding headache that has everything to do with last night. As you sit up, stretching stiff muscles, your fingers graze your neck, and you freeze.

You already know what you’ll find. Your stomach flips as you rush to the mirror, pulling your hair away to reveal dark, circular marks. Hickeys. Louis’s hickeys.

Heat floods your face as the memories from last night rush back—his hands on your body, the rasp of his voice in your ear, the way he kissed you like he was starving for it. A shiver runs through you, not from regret, but from how damn good it all was.

Still, the marks are a problem. You grab your makeup bag and get to work, layering concealer and powder until they’re faint enough to be hidden by your hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. You can’t let the others see. You can’t let anyone see.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s a message from Louis: "You good?"

Your heart hammers as you type back: "We need to talk."

A few minutes later, you’re knocking on his door. When it swings open, Louis is there—hair tousled, barefoot, still half-asleep, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he knows why you’re here.

“Hey,” you say, stepping inside. Your voice feels thin, unsure, but you force yourself to keep going. “About last night...”

Louis closes the door behind you and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Yeah,” he says slowly, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his.

“I woke up with... these,” you continue, gesturing toward your neck. His eyes follow the motion, a smirk twitching at his lips as he realizes what you’re talking about.

“Didn’t think I went that hard,” he teases, but there’s something softer underneath his usual playfulness. “Sorry about that.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers brushing over the covered marks. “It’s fine. I covered them up, but, Louis... no one can know about this. The others would never let us live it down.”

Louis straightens, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably best if we keep it between us.”

The weight of that decision settles over the room, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, Louis lets out a low laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, for what it’s worth... it was a really fucking good time.”

Your breath catches, your heart flipping at the sincerity in his tone. A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze. “It really was.”

The tension in the room shifts—heavier, but warmer. There’s something unspoken between you, something lingering from last night, but you force yourself to push it aside.

“But it was... a one-time thing,” you say, your voice firmer now. “We were drunk, caught up in the moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

Louis hesitates, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he nods. “Right,” he agrees, though his voice doesn’t carry the same conviction. “Just a one-time thing. We go back to normal. Friends. Bandmates. No weirdness.”

You nod, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Alright,” you say, standing and smoothing your shirt. “I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

Louis follows you to the door, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he says softly. “See you there.”

You step out into the hallway, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you. The memory of last night burns in your mind, and as much as you tell yourself it was a mistake, a small, stubborn part of you knows it wasn’t.

And as you walk away, you know the secret you’re both keeping won’t be the hardest part. The hardest part will be pretending that you don’t want more.

...

The hotel bathroom feels impossibly small, its tiled walls closing in on you as you stare down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. The instructions are simple, straightforward, but they feel like a foreign language as you reread them for the third time.

Niall is waiting just outside, sitting on the edge of your hotel bed. You hadn’t planned to involve him this much, but when you decided to sneak out and buy the test earlier, he’d been the one person you trusted enough to call. Now, as the reality of what you’re about to do looms over you, you’re beyond grateful he’s here.

“Everything okay in there?” Niall’s voice drifts through the door, steady and calm.

“Yeah,” you call back, though your voice wavers. “I’m doing it now.”

“Take your time,” he replies, his tone gentle.

You follow the instructions mechanically, your heart pounding louder with every step. When it’s done, you set the test on the counter, face down, and set the timer on your phone. For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

When the timer buzzes, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the test.

“You good?” Niall asks from the other side of the door, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

You take a deep breath and pick up the test. The result is instant.

Pregnant.

The air rushes out of your lungs, and you open the bathroom door without even thinking. Niall is on his feet in an instant, his eyes scanning your face.

“What does it say?” he asks, his voice soft but urgent.

You hold up the test, your hand shaking. “It’s positive,” you whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Niall just stares, processing the words. Then, he crosses the room in two quick steps and pulls you into a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, tears spilling over as the weight of the situation crashes down on you. After a moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he studies your face.

“Do you… know who the father is?” he asks carefully.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “It’s Louis.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. “Louis?”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound that bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Yeah. It was that night we all went out to the bar.”

Realization dawns in his eyes, and he stares at you like he’s trying to piece it together. “Wait—so… the bathroom stall?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Yes, the bathroom stall,” you say, your voice muffled.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, to your surprise, Niall starts to laugh—a low chuckle that quickly turns into full-on laughter. It’s contagious, and soon you’re laughing too, tears streaming down your face as the absurdity of it all sinks in.

“I can’t believe I’m having a baby that was conceived in a bathroom stall,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head.

Niall grins, his laughter fading into a warm smile. “Hey, at least you’ll have a good story for the kid someday.”

You snort, wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”

As the laughter subsides, Niall’s expression grows serious again. “You're going to have to tell Louis.”

You shake your head, the weight of that reality settling over you. “Not yet. I don’t even know how to tell him.”

Niall squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here, alright? Whatever you need.”

His support steadies you, and you nod, a small spark of determination flickering to life. “Thanks, Niall,” you say softly.

He smiles, giving your shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

...

The hotel dining room buzzes with the usual morning energy: clinking cutlery, muted conversation, and the aroma of coffee filling the air. You sit with the boys, doing your best to seem normal as you pick at a piece of toast. The nausea has become a constant companion, and exhaustion drags at you more with each passing day.

“Still not feeling well?” Liam asks, glancing at your plate with a worried frown.

You force a smile. “It’s just a bug. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Zayn points out, his tone sharper than Liam’s, though there’s concern in his dark eyes.

Harry leans back in his chair, studying you closely. “You need to see a doctor. You’re barely eating, and you look knackered.”

“Thanks, Harry,” you say dryly, hoping humor will deflect their growing concern.

Louis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout breakfast, lifts his coffee cup to his lips but says nothing. His eyes linger on you, though, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist again, grabbing your mug and taking a sip even though the coffee turns your stomach. “Just need some rest.”

The boys don’t look convinced, but they eventually let it drop as the conversation shifts to tour logistics. When breakfast wraps up, everyone begins dispersing to their rooms.

As you step into the hallway, Niall gently catches your arm. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

“Sure,” you say, letting him steer you toward a quieter section of the corridor.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Louis lingers just out of sight around the corner, pretending to check his phone.

Niall keeps his voice low as he speaks. “How are you holding up? Really.”

You glance around nervously, making sure no one is nearby. “I’m okay,” you lie, though your voice wavers. “Just... trying to figure things out.”

He frowns, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got to stop pushing yourself so hard. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just... it’s a lot, Niall.”

“Have you thought more about telling Louis?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart sinks. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit. “How do I tell him that I’m pregnant and it’s his baby? That it happened in a bloody bathroom stall?”

Niall snorts, though his expression quickly turns serious again. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually. He deserves to know, and you deserve to have his support.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just… I’m scared, Niall. What if he freaks out? What if it changes everything between us?”

“He might freak out,” Niall says honestly. “But he’s Louis. He’ll step up. You’ve got to trust him—and yourself.”

Neither of you notice the shadow around the corner or the way Louis freezes in place, his breath catching as he processes what he just overheard.

“I’ll tell him,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “I just need to figure out how.”

Niall nods, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got your back.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Niall. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the two of you part ways, Louis remains rooted to his spot, his mind racing. He had only stopped to grab his jacket, not to eavesdrop—but now, he can’t unhear what’s just been revealed.

Pregnant. His baby.

The words loop in his mind, crashing over him in waves of shock and disbelief. He grips the wall for support, his heart pounding as he tries to process what this means—for you, for him, for everything.

...

The hotel suite is unusually quiet, the remnants of breakfast scattered across the coffee table as the boys lounge around. You’re absent, having slipped away earlier, and the rest of the group assumes you’re just taking some much-needed time to yourself.

Louis, however, can’t sit still. He paces the room, his jaw tight and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but one thing is clear: he needs answers.

Niall, sitting on the armrest of a couch, notices the tension radiating off Louis. “Mate, you alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

That’s all it takes for Louis to stop pacing and whirl around to face him. “No, Niall, I’m not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharp enough to make everyone else in the room sit up straighter.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, frowning.

Louis ignores him, his blue eyes locked on Niall. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me?” he demands, his voice rising.

“Keeping what from you?” Niall replies carefully, though his face pales slightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Louis shouts, taking a step closer. “I know. I heard you talking to her this morning.”

The room falls into stunned silence, and Zayn and Harry exchange wide-eyed looks.

“What are you talking about?” Harry finally asks, his tone laced with confusion.

Louis doesn’t even glance at him. His focus is still entirely on Niall. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? And it’s mine.”

Niall’s mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out. The rest of the boys look utterly shell-shocked, their eyes darting between Louis and Niall.

“Is it true?” Liam asks, his voice quieter now, though no less serious.

Niall lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Louis,” he says, his voice firm despite the guilt flickering in his eyes. “She needed time to figure out how to say it herself.”

Louis’s laugh is bitter, almost disbelieving. “Time? You don’t think I deserved to know right away? That I deserved to hear it from her—or at least someone—before overhearing you whispering about it in a bloody hallway?”

“I was just trying to be there for her,” Niall says defensively, standing now to meet Louis’s glare. “She’s scared out of her mind, Louis. This isn’t easy for her.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Louis shoots back, his voice cracking slightly. “Finding out I’m going to be a dad like this?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw.

Zayn leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you saying Y/N’s pregnant, and it’s yours?”

“Yes,” Louis snaps, throwing his arms out in frustration. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Harry sits back, his jaw slack as he processes the revelation. “Bloody hell.”

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” Niall says, his tone softer now. “But she needed time to figure things out. I was just trying to support her until she was ready to talk to you.”

“She should’ve come to me,” Louis mutters, his anger ebbing slightly but still palpable. “I deserved to know.”

“And she knows that,” Niall replies. “But she’s been scared, Louis. She didn’t want to mess everything up. She didn’t know how you’d react.”

Louis takes a deep breath, his hands raking through his hair as he processes Niall’s words. “I don’t know how to react,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This is... massive.”

“It is,” Liam says, speaking up for the first time since the confrontation started. “But it’s not something you have to figure out alone. We’re all here for both of you.”

Louis looks around the room, his frustration slowly giving way to uncertainty. “I need to talk to her,” he says finally, more to himself than anyone else.

“Then do that,” Niall says gently. “But give her some grace, mate. She’s dealing with a lot.”

Louis nods, his expression still tense but less combative. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving the rest of the boys in stunned silence.

...

You’re standing at the sink in your hotel bathroom, clutching the edge of the counter to steady yourself as another wave of nausea passes. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, adding to the headache pounding at your temples.

Splashing cold water on your face, you glance at your reflection, pale and drawn. You’d thought you could keep things under control, at least for a little while longer. But the toll on your body is becoming harder and harder to hide.

A knock at the bathroom door startles you. Before you can answer, Louis’s voice cuts through.

“Y/N, it’s me. Open up.”

Your stomach twists for an entirely different reason now. His tone is firm, no trace of his usual teasing lilt. You grab a towel to pat your face dry, stalling for time.

“I’m fine, Louis,” you call back, trying to sound normal.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, and you can hear the resolve in his voice. “We need to talk.”

With a resigned sigh, you open the door. Louis is standing there, arms crossed and a look of determination on his face. The blue of his eyes is intense, searching yours for answers you’re not ready to give.

“Can we do this later?” you ask weakly.

“No,” he says, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I know.”

Your breath catches. “You know what?”

“I know you’re pregnant,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “And I know it’s mine.”

The air feels sucked out of the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“How—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I heard you and Niall talking this morning,” he admits. “I wasn’t eavesdropping—it just happened. And now I need to hear it from you. Is it true?”

You look down at your feet, your hands trembling. “Yes,” you whisper.

Louis exhales sharply, leaning back against the door as he runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“About a week,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I took a test. Niall’s the only one I told.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly. “Why did I have to find out like this?”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you sink onto the closed toilet lid. “I didn’t know how to, Louis,” you confess. “It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up. And I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” he asks, his brows knitting together.

“No,” you say quickly. “Not of you. Just... of everything. What this means for us, for the band. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Louis crouches down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. The unexpected tenderness in the gesture makes your chest tighten.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he says softly, his voice steadier now. “But you can’t shut me out of this. I deserve to know what’s going on, Y/N. This is my baby too.”

The weight of his words hits you, and you nod, wiping at your eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Louis. I was just... trying to figure it all out.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he says, his hands squeezing your knees gently. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You look up at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “We might not have planned this, but it’s happening. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, a flicker of hope sparks in your chest. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Louis stands, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of this bathroom. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to face this alone.

Louis doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you out of the bathroom, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. He stays standing for a moment, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally sits beside you, he turns to face you fully, his expression serious but gentle.

“I know this probably feels overwhelming,” he starts, his voice softer now. “But I need you to know something. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Tears prick your eyes again, and you bite your lip, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “Louis, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts firmly. “This isn’t about what I have to do. This is my baby, and you... you’re everything to me.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He exhales deeply, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I mean I’ve been in love with you for ages, Y/N. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.”

“Louis...”

He laughs softly, though there’s a trace of vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s true. I’ve hidden behind all the jokes and the flirting because I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. I thought if I said something, I’d ruin what we have. And then that night at the club happened, and I thought maybe... but you said it was a mistake, and I didn’t want to push.”

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It wasn’t a mistake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I only said that because I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have, just like you were. But I’ve been in love with you too, Louis. For so long.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks utterly stunned. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. “I mean it.”

He lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “All this time, we’ve been dancing around each other like idiots.”

You laugh too, though it’s choked with emotion. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, letting the weight of the truth settle between you. Then Louis’s grin turns mischievous, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Can you believe our kid’s going to have the most ridiculous conception story ever?” he says, his voice teasing.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. “Conceived in a bathroom stall at a nightclub,” you say, shaking your head. “That’s not exactly the romantic story you tell at family gatherings.”

Louis chuckles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “No, but it’s our story,” he says, his tone softening again. “And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The warmth in his gaze makes your heart swell, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Louis meets you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the heated, impulsive one from that night. This one is slow, deliberate, and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. “I’m all in, Y/N,” he says quietly. “For you, for this baby. For everything.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but this time it’s one of relief, not fear. “Me too,” you whisper.

The two of you sit there in the quiet, holding each other as the enormity of the moment settles in. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might just be okay.

...

Author's note: I hope you liked it! Let me know if you'd like me to turn it into a mini series and have a Part 2!

[b-skarsgard]

That Bill Skarsgård, 34, has a special attraction to the dark should be indisputable, but what is it about him that the characters attach to?

- Maybe it's a bit like falling in love with someone, says the actor himself.

read the rest at the link or under the cut. (translated from swedish to english by browser)

In reality, Bill doesn't look the least bit diabolical. The hair is well styled in a wavy James Dean bangs and is matched for the day by a knitted white polo shirt with a luxurious glossy sheen. Overall, he rather exudes a mystique, a bit like a movie star from Hollywood's golden era.

Nevertheless, he has repeated in many international interviews that it is something in him that these characters are drawn to:

- The clearest way for me to formulate it is that I attract them, and they attract me.

- It is a special process to be chosen for a role at all. You have to be inspired, but also be right for the role. So you attract each other, says Bill, but adds:

- After all, I have done an incredible number of different types of characters in over thirty films. But since the biggest projects are in a certain direction, like "It", you become associated with it.

In "Nosferatu" you are unrecognizable. Do you like to completely dissolve into a character?

- In some way, that is always the ambition. I like to find a voice, a physical expression. Making "Clark" wasn't me in any way either, even though he looks more like me.

- The challenge is that it is me who expresses the character, while none of Bill must be there. Nothing of a 32-year-old guy from Södermalm can be found in a 400-year-old Transylvanian count.

You usually succeed. My son has a fear of clowns because of you. On the other hand, it has saved me many visits to Gröna Lund...

- Haha. Is it that bad? Clown phobia? But I apologize. One of my childhood friends got it from the previous "It".

- I don't think I've told anyone this, but when he married my cousin, who is like a sister to me, we organized a kidnapping attempt for the stag party where all his best friends were dressed up as clowns. It was the thing he was most afraid of in the whole world. Someone thought it was too shitty, and that he would break down. But it went well. Then I forced him to attend the premiere of "It", and now he is not afraid of clowns anymore.

Does exposure therapy work?

- Yes, that's a tip. Haha.

But "Nosferatu". Of course you were in the running as Hutter, but then the role went to Nicholas Hoult?

- I actually got it. Several years ago. Then the "Nosferatu" fell apart.

How did you react to the news that the role was no longer yours?

- I was broken.

- I would actually have been in Robert Egger's "The Northman" in the role of Gustav Lindh, Bill continues and then describes how pandemic-related circumstances led to a schedule conflict where he prioritized "Clark" and said no to Eggers.

- "Clark", which I helped develop and produce, felt to me personally as a bigger challenge.

- So I explained that I was sorry, but that it was like this. But I didn't know if he was offended.

- Then "Nosferatu" was on again, and he cast Nick and then Aaron (Taylor Johnson) as Harding. So then I wrote an honest and pretentious letter to Eggers with the title "Wisborg in flames".

It pays to be desperate?

- Yes, if the desperation is motivated by something that is true. I meant every word I wrote in that letter, and I think he felt it.

I interviewed your brother Alexander after "Northman". He described it as isolated. How was your Eggers trip?

- It was up and down. I was also very isolated. Self-isolating.

- I lived in a hotel suite in an 18th-century building where Mozart had lived, and you feel that he is sitting in the walls. I walked around this attic and went a little crazy.

- But there was a madness in Orlok that was worth facing. I've talked a lot about my technical methods, but it was also a psychological journey.

The relief after the recording

How has it been to leave Orlok?

- An enormous relief. You don't always feel that way, but the last day of filming was a really tough fucking day. Not performance-wise, but because it was twelve hours in that outfit, and the soles of my feet were the only thing on me that wasn't covered. It means that the body cannot breathe.

- I was close to fainting and had heat stroke. My heart just skipped a beat, and I started thinking about that gold-covered woman in "Goldfinger"…

Who would have been suffocated by the paint?

- Yes, that's not true. But I thought about it. So when I was done, I was so grateful to be free of this evil entity.

What's next for you?

- I'll be home for a couple of days, and then I'll go to Los Angeles and New York for the premieres there, and then home to celebrate Christmas.

The Skarsgård Christmas is supposed to be something really special?

- This year it is split. Everyone is married and has a partner, so you have to take it in turns, and this year it's just been that everyone is with their respective ones. But last year we ran Skarsgård Christmas, and now we will all see each other in the days in between, so then it will be Skarsgård Christmas!