#for a second i wondered if it was portuguese but there was no way it was because even then i would have known😭

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun fact time!! Did you know? 😊

Yuuichi's theme song (the one that often accompanies his entrances with "Vamos Cantar!"), 新しい夏のナナ, is not in any latin language such as Spanish or Portuguese, despite its lyrics sounding as such. It's actually in Hanamogera, which to put it simply is nonsense speech based on japanese syllables. So the song's lyrics are essentially gibberish meant to imitate the sound of latin music! 😊

It is listed as such in the source site for the song, oo39.com, where the song can be found as "YS068" in the hanamogera category.

Additional fun fact! The song can also be found in Spotify as Vien Nana by Oo39.com themselves alongside a few other select songs from the site. So you can properly enjoy the song on the platform without having to import it from your local files.

Those are the fun Re:Kinder related fun facts for today... Use them to entertain your friends at parties ! ☺️

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (43/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Getting ready for a party is always fun when the company is good.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff, tiny bit of angst (body insecurity if you squint), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.5k

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A/N: cherry is still sick, but this needed to get out of my head. feedback is appreciated. love ya.

When Kika puts her bag on the living room table, it clinks suspiciously. 

“My goodness, did you bring half the supermarket with you?” you ask her with a grin, which develops into a loud laugh when Pierre puts down a huge bag next to the door. ”And you brought your whole wardrobe too.”

“Of course I did,” she smiles, kissing your left and right cheek. ”After all, I don't know what you're wearing, and I thought we could coordinate our outfits a little.”

Pierre puts an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. “I'm glad you only packed one bag,” he says, kissing her temple. “Please pick up the other stuff off the floor tomorrow. The bedroom looks like a battlefield.”

Kika rolls her eyes but snuggles up against him. “You love me.” She looks up at him with her huge brown eyes as he leans down to her. 

“I do,” he smiles against her lips, and the moment is so intimate that you leave them alone in the living room. 

Charles is standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen and smiles at you as you enter the room. “Everything okay?”

You nod and sit down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. "How long have they been together, by the way?”

“I think about two years," he replies, leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter behind him with his palms. ”They're cute, aren't they?”

“Absolutely,” you smile. "Almost a little too sweet. I fled the living room when I saw the way they looked at each other, like he was about to propose.”

Your roommate has to laugh. "You should see them together at a Grand Prix. A few drivers – myself included – have a bet on when he'll ask her to marry him.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you bet for money?” 

The Monegasque raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a sip. "Yup.”

“And what was the stake?”

Charles hesitates and avoids your gaze. "100€.”

A grin spreads across your face. ”Can I still join?”

Your friend raises his eyes and looks at you in wonder, but before he can say anything, Kika and Pierre enter the kitchen. Pierre now places the heavy bag, which had just clinked suspiciously, on the kitchen island. Not a second later, the Portuguese woman reaches into the opening and pulls out a bottle of wine. 

“Sweet,” she says and holds out the bottle for you to see. The brand doesn't look familiar, but the label is pink and the glass is a mint green, and the way your friend looks at you, you know exactly that you'll like the wine. 

You take two wine glasses out of the kitchen cupboard and place them in front of her. “And what are the boys drinking?”

Charles puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Boys? Boys?" He shakes his head. "We're men.”

You wrinkle your nose and grin at him. "Since when?”

Your roommate walks around the kitchen island and wraps his arm around your neck to put you in a light headlock. He presses you against the counter in front of you with his big body and whispers in your ear. “Do you want me to show you again?”

“Please get a room.” Kika grins and pours the wine into your two glasses. 

Charles lets his arm slide from your neck to your collarbones, where it then remains. “You're in our apartment. You can just leave,” he replies annoyed, as if your friends' presence were preventing him from dragging you to the bedroom right now. Which maybe it is. But you don't want to think about that.

“Then I'll take this one back with me.” Kika reaches into her handbag again and pulls out another bottle, before placing it in front of you both. "For your beloved Moscow Mule.”

You don't need to look at the man behind you to know that he's grinning. "If you two ever break up, I'll keep Kika.”"

“Ouch,” Pierre says, pouting. "And I thought our friendship was more important to you than ginger beer.”

With his free hand, Charles grabs the bottle and lifts it up before smiling at the Frenchman. "I thought so too.”

“Okay, okay.“ Kika grabs her glass and the bottle of wine before looking at you. ‘You and I are going to get dressed up. You can play video games or something in the meantime." She kisses Pierre on the cheek before heading for the kitchen door.  ”You coming?”

You nod, but turn around in Charles' arms to look at him again. “What are you going to wear?”

Your friend shrugs. “I was thinking of a simple black button-down," he replies, raising his hand to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. "Do you already have something in mind?”

You shake your head. ”Not really, no.”

Charles smiles gently at you before weaving his fingers through your hair before they come to rest at the nape of your neck. “You're sure to find something nice. You look perfect in anything, anyway.” He leans forward a bit and breathes a kiss on your forehead. 

“You're disgusting!” Kika's voice sounds from the hallway. 

Charles flips her the bird before letting go of you. “Go. Before you get into trouble. And let me know if you need anything.”

You smile at him briefly before taking your wine glass and following your best friend towards the bedroom. Once there, you watch as Kika empties her bag, which was just standing in the living room, onto the bed. “I don't want to imagine what your bedroom looks like at your place.”

“Believe me, it's actually better if you don't.” She grabs the clothes and starts sorting them on the bed. "How was your Christmas?”

You take a big gulp of wine. "Good.”

The Portuguese woman looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Wow, you tell it like I was already there.” She matches a white top to a dark red satin skirt. “Tell me. Did you visit Charles Mom?”

“We did,” you reply and sit down on the last free spot on the bed. “I haven't had such a nice Christmas in a long time.”

Kika smiles at you. “Did you two fuck?”

You almost drop your glass. "Kika!" you whisper indignantly and quickly close the door so that the men can't hear you. You lean back against the wood. 

“So you fucked,” she grins and raises her wine glass to toast you. When you stare at her, she lowers her glass again. ”Y'all didn't fuck?”

“We didn't.”

“But you did something.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Like a curious little child, she draws up her legs and sits cross-legged, chin resting on her fist. “Tell me everything.”

You have to laugh. ”I thought we had to get ready for the party.”

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

And you do. You tell her everything that has happened in the last few days. About the night you gave Charles a massage and about the night on the boat. That he gave you an employment contract as a Christmas present so that you can be together permanently. About Christmas and last night, when you got closer than ever before. The way he called you “his girl”. 

Kika listens intently and asks questions in between, but first and foremost she lets you say everything that is on your mind – and that seems to be quite a lot. 

You tell her how confused you are because you don't know exactly where you stand with Charles. But also that it's okay for you, because as long as you can somehow participate in Charles's life, that's enough for you. It's like you're addicted to him – and every little dose you get of him draws you further under his spell. 

When the men knock on the door an hour later, you've just finished and are catching your breath for the first time.

“Is everything okay?“ Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. He seems to ignore the bed's mess – or he doesn't even notice it. 

“Everything's fine,” you smile.

He nods and points at Pierre, who is standing behind him. “We just wanted to get pizza so that we can eat something decent before the party. What do you want on it?”

“Just a simple Margarita, please,” you reply, Kika gives the same answer. 

Charles smiles at you. “Have you found an outfit yet?” When he sees the empty wine bottle on the dresser, he presses his tongue into his cheek. “Or did you have so much to talk about that you haven't had time yet?” He raises an eyebrow. He knows exactly what you've been talking about for the last hour.

Warmth rises to your cheeks. “The latter.”

Your roommate nods again. "Okay. You still have a little time. We're on our way. See you in a bit," he says goodbye and closes the door behind him. 

Kika looks at you. ”He's right. We really should start thinking about what we want to wear.”

As if you were at a fashion show, you try on everything that could possibly go with the club. Dark red dresses, the little black dress, satin trousers and corsets that accentuate the décolleté. But somehow there is nothing that convinces you. 

Annoyed, you lie down on the bed with your back on it, the clothes are spread out on the floor of the room. Kika lies down next to you. 

“Is it always like this?” you ask her, crossing your arms over your face. 

“What do you mean?”

You breathe out loudly. “It's the first time I'm consciously out and about with people who are famous. Is it always so exhausting to find something appropriate so you don't embarrass yourself?”

“I think you get used to it,” the Portuguese woman replies. ”I had to learn that too at the beginning. That there are some items of clothing that suit your figure and some that don't. And just because something looks good on you doesn't mean you feel comfortable in it.” 

“And how do you do it?” you ask her, looking at her. "I mean, you're a model. You obviously look good in anything. But – I don't know.”

Kika shrugs. "It took me a long time to feel comfortable in certain things. But most of the time I actually wear things that I didn't have to be convinced of at all. And then I don't care what others say about me. I feel comfortable – and I want to keep it that way.” When you don't answer, she grabs your hand. "It'll get easier. And until it does, you've got me by your side." She nudges you in the side. ”And your roommate, who practically undresses you with his eyes.”

You roll your eyes mock-annoyed. “He doesn't.”

“He does,” she grins. “But that's okay. After all, you're absolutely perfect. You could go to the club in a potato sack and you'd look bombastic.”

“Well,” you say. “Unfortunately, I don't have a potato sack here that I could put on.”

When the door suddenly opens, you both jump. The boys are standing in the doorway, Pierre has two pizza boxes in his hand and Charles a smaller black box. 

“Where have you been? It's been almost an hour since you left” Kika asks, getting up from the bed. 

“We had to get something,“ says Pierre, motioning for her to follow him. As Kika takes your wine glasses and the two of them leave the bedroom, Charles sits down on the bed next to you. 

“I brought you something,” he smiles, placing the box on the mattress between you.

You sit up and examine the box. “What is it?”

Your roommate shrugs. “You asked me what to wear to parties in Monaco, and I still owe you an answer.”

Slowly, you reach for the box and take off the lid. Inside, wrapped in dark red paper, is a dress. Black and long, with thin straps and a low-cut back. As you carefully take it out of the box, you are speechless. 

“Do you like it?” He asks and watches you get up from the bed and hold it up properly. 

You stare at it, mouth agape. "Where did you get this?" You ask him, holding it up to your body and looking at yourself in the mirror. 

“It's not important. Do you like it?“ he asks again, his eyes glued to you. 

“It's gorgeous,” you breathe, turning a little to get a better idea of how it would look on you. “I—how much did it cost? I'll definitely pay you back the money.”

“Absolutely not,” he replies immediately and with a tone that allows no argument. "It didn't even leave a small dent in my bank account." He gets up and stands behind you. He's so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. "You'll look stunning in it.”

You look at him through the mirror. “And if you put on your black shirt, we'll even match,” you smile, before carefully hanging the dress over the sideboard. 

Charles wraps his arm around you to press you against him. You feel his hardness against your lower back as he leans down to you and places feather-light kisses on your neck. “That was the plan,” he whispers, and goosebumps spread across your body where his hot breath caresses your skin. 

His hand moves under your sweater and his fingertips slowly glide over your ribs before his thumb hesitantly slides under the fabric of your bra. Breathing heavily, you lean your head against his shoulder and give him more room on your neck as his thumb slowly circles around your nipple. 

“Charles,” you breathe softly and arch towards him. You want more. So much more. 

When Kika's voice echoes through the apartment, you break away from each other. ”Come on! The pizza will get cold!”

With hot cheeks and wet panties, you let Charles lead you into the living room, where the other couple is already sitting on the couch eating pizza. Another bottle of wine is on the table in front of Kika, who is refilling your glasses. 

Although the couch is big enough, Charles pulls you right next to him on the cushion and puts your legs over his lap. For a moment, you wonder if he's doing this just so the others can't see his boner. 

“Here,” Kika smiles, handing you a slice of pizza, which you accept gratefully. 

The four of you eat dinner together and chat about Christmas, Charles‘ upcoming training camp and New Year's Eve, while the boys’ pizza boxes, wine bottles and drinks get emptier and emptier. 

“I was thinking of throwing a New Year's Eve party,” Kika says, putting her wine glass back on the table. ‘You're obviously invited. I wanted to invite a few other friends, but your attendance is most important to me.”

“Well, I'd love to come,’ you smile, looking at Charles. ”Unless you have something else planned.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I won't be back from camp until the afternoon, so we'll probably see each other again at the party first. But until then, you'll be in good company for sure.”

“Excuse me?” Kika says indignantly. “I'm the best company!”

Pierre puts his arm around his girlfriend and kisses her on the cheek. ”For me, definitely.”

Kika leans against her boyfriend before gently kissing him. “I know.”

Charles quickly grabs a pillow and throws it at them. “Please get a room!” He jokes, repeating Kika's words. When she flashes him her middle finger, he can't help but laugh. “Come on, you two. Get ready. We have to leave soon.” He runs his fingers over your shins before smiling at you. “Go put on your new dress.”

You can't stop smiling. “See you in a bit.”

While the men continue to chat, Kika and you get ready. With professional precision, she applies make-up on your face before doing your hair and then taking care of herself. The Portuguese woman decides on a short black dress with pearl embroidery. When she is finished styling herself, she helps you into your new dress. 

“Careful with the straps,” she smiles as she pulls it up your body. You put your arms through it carefully so as not to damage it. When you're dressed, Kika looks at you skeptically. "The bra has to go.”

You look at her with a raised eyebrow. "You want me to go out without a bra?”

“Don't you have an invisible bra?” When you shake your head, she purses her lips into a thin line. ”Then you'll have to go out without a bra. Unfortunately, the straps are so thin that you can see the bra underneath either way. But we can tape over the nipples if you like. At least they won't be visible in the cold outside.”

Without further ado, she disappears from the room and while she is looking for something to cover the nipples with in the apartment, you examine yourself in the mirror in your room, but no matter how you turn, it is too small to see you from top to bottom. On bare feet, you walk to Charles' bedroom across the hall, where the new, larger mirror is leaning against the wall. 

The satin dress clings to your curves and accentuates your body exactly where it should. There is a slit on the left side that reaches to the middle of your thigh and the back neckline is so low that you couldn't pull your thong all the way up because it would otherwise show. 

You examine yourself in the mirror and don't even notice that Charles is leaning against the doorframe until he starts talking.

“Let's stay home,” he suggests, his expression impenetrable. He is wearing his black shirt as promised, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks wickedly handsome.

You smile at him and try to suppress the dirty thoughts that are trying to take over your brain. “We can't cancel now,” you reply. “First of all, the others are already here, and secondly, Lando is definitely waiting for us.”

“I don't care.” With quiet steps, he moves towards you without taking his eyes off you. Like a predator that stares at its prey before it snaps. 

You turn to him. ”You have very good taste, Charles. The dress is perfect.”

He answers without hesitation. “Not as perfect as the woman wearing it." The Monegasque stands directly in front of you and looks down at you. "Let's stay home," he suggests again. His large hands find their rightful place on your hips and pull you towards him. His eyes glow seductively. 

“It would be rude to cancel now.”

“It wasn't a request,” he whispers, turning you so that you are standing with your back to him. Once again, you can see him through the mirror. He grabs the flesh of your hip with one hand, while the other hand wanders over your upper body until it rests on your neckline. ”That dress was definitely a mistake.”

You look at him, confused. “Why? I thought you liked it?”

“That's not the point,” he whispers, kissing your bare neck. His stubble scratches a little, but you couldn't care less. "I just don't know how to hold back when you look like this." His teeth graze the soft skin below your ear. ”God, you look devine.”

His hand slides gently into the dress from above and encloses your bare chest. At the same time, a soft moan escapes you. “Charles.”

“Merde,” he curses and presses you against him. “How am I supposed to keep my fingers to myself when I know you're not wearing a bra?”

As his fingers gently play with your nipple, you bite your lip. “Who said you had to?” you tease him, whereupon his other hand gently rests on your neck, though not squeezing. Sadly.

“I can't wait to be back here later,” he gasps and presses a final kiss on your shoulder before taking his hands off you. You watch him fix his erection in his pants so that it can't be seen. But it's there, you know that. And just the thought of it gets your blood pumping. ”And then neither of us leaves this bed until I say so.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you ask, tilting your head so he can see the red marks on your skin where his beard has left its mark 

Charles suppresses the urge to pull you close and throw you onto the new bed to fuck you relentlessly until your legs give out and you forget your name. He flexes his hand. “Both, mon amour. Definitely both.”

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (three)

requested here; (one); (two)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (the duff inspired) word count: 5.4k

You hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen the other day.

It was supposed to be all part of the game, of the plan.

You just wanted to learn things properly. Right? But you knew, you had wanted it, and worse, you had liked it.

God, what the hell were you doing?

He was Rafe Cameron. Cocky, rich, your nightmare with a reputation that should have sent you running in the opposite direction. And yet, here you were, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours, wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled back. If you hadn’t let the spell break.

"Focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head like you could shake him off too. You had bigger things to worry about—like Nate.

Remember Nate? The whole point of this was to get him to notice you, to finally realize that you were more than just the girl he studied with. You weren’t supposed to be getting caught up with Rafe Cameron’s sudden vulnerability or, God forbid, catching feelings for him.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you turned down the street toward your apartment. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the thought of Rafe stayed with you for hours, sneaking its way back in every time you thought you’d pushed it out for good.

What was it about him, anyway? He was hot, sure. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was seeing something deeper. Like there was more to this than either of you were willing to admit. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were starting to want him to see more.

By the time you reached your door, you had spiraled enough to know you needed a distraction. So you did what any girl in your situation would do: you grabbed your phone and texted Harper back.

You: Movie night better include wine. Lots of wine.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Harper <3:  “Already taken care of, babe. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little better. It was exactly what you needed. Maybe after a few glasses of wine and some cheesy rom-coms, you’d finally stop thinking about that stupid kiss.

As you closed the door behind you and flopped onto your bed, your phone buzzed again. Expecting it to be Harper, you lazily reached for it, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Rafe’s name instead.

Rafe: got your notes ready for tomorrow? or should i just show up and charm my way through it?

You stared at the screen for a second, unsure whether to laugh or throw your phone across the room. Why did he always have to do this? Act like nothing had changed when everything felt different?

Not that you were any better.

Finally, you typed back.

You: “depends. can ur charm get you through an entire chapter on portuguese colonization?”

His reply came almost instantly. Like he’d been waiting for yours.

Rafe: “we both know my charm can get me through anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the stupid smile tugging at your lips.

You: “let’s not test that theory. see you tomorrow.”

You tossed your phone aside, willing yourself not to overthink the fact that just seeing his name pop up on your screen made your heart race.

You were going to get through this. Nate was your goal. This thing with Rafe was just a detour. A very distracting, very complicated detour that you’d handle... eventually.

But tonight? Tonight was for your girls, your movies, and drowning out the chaos in your head with as much wine as it took to stop thinking about blue eyes and stupid smirks.

Later that night, you found yourself sprawled out on Ava’s couch, surrounded by blankets and popcorn, watching some cheesy rom-com that Harper had picked out. The glow of the TV cast a soft light over the room, but your mind was still elsewhere. Even with your best friends beside you, laughing and making snide comments about the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It wasn’t just the kiss—although that had definitely been messing with your head lately—it was everything. The way he’d been acting, the things he’d said, the stupid nickname that you couldn’t seem to shake. Harper and Ava had a point, but they didn’t know Rafe like you did. Not anymore, at least. You’d seen sides of him recently that no one else had, and while you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, there was something there. Something more than just the cocky rich boy everyone saw.

You sighed, reaching for another handful of popcorn, but Harper, ever the perceptive one, caught the look on your face before you could hide it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging your leg with her foot. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Yeah, you’ve barely roasted this movie,” Ava added, throwing a piece of popcorn at you. “That’s not like you.”

You didn't want to get into it, “Just tired, I guess. Long day.”

Harper wasn’t buying it, though. She turned the volume on the TV down and sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, spill. This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

You groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Can we not talk about him ?”

“Nope,” Harper said, yanking the pillow away. “Not until you tell us what’s going on. I know a liar when I see one."

Busted.

“Did something happen?”

You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. They were your best friends, and you knew they only wanted what was best for you. But the whole thing with Rafe felt complicated, like more than just a stupid crush. Still, you couldn’t keep it all bottled up forever.

“Fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “There was... a kiss.”

Harper’s jaw practically dropped. “A kiss? With Rafe?”

“When did this happen?” Ava demanded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I was scared!” You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again as you thought back to that moment in the library, “He knew I never kissed anyone and offered.”

“Wait, what? Your first kiss was with Rafe freaking Cameron?”

Ava gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “He offered? What the hell does that even mean? Did he just, like, present his lips to you like some weirdo?”

You groaned, wishing you could shrink into the couch and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that, okay? We were talking, and it came up. I told him I hadn’t kissed anyone, and then he was all, ‘I can fix that,’ or something. It just... happened a few days later.”

“So, what was it like? Was it good? Did he use tongue? I need details, girl.”

Harper elbowed her. “Ava! Let her breathe, she’s clearly still processing.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more as you fidgeted with a loose string on your sweater. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was good, okay? Really good. But it’s Rafe, and now everything’s weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harper’s expression softened,  “Okay, I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You’ve hated Rafe for, like, ever, right? And now, all of a sudden, you’re kissing him? What about Nate?”

“I know!” you groaned again, throwing your head back against the couch.

Ava looked like she was about to explode. “So... do you like him? Because it sounds like you’re starting to like him.”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t supposed to like him. It wasn’t part of the plan. But then he had to go and be all... different. Like, he’s still Rafe, but sometimes he’s—I don’t know, sweet? Ugh, that sounds ridiculous.”

Harper sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Babe, if you’re getting all messed up over a guy like Rafe, this could be a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. You didn’t want to like Rafe. He was the last person you should be catching feelings for. 

“Guys like him? They’ll pull you in, mess with your head, and leave you confused as hell.”

“I know,” you said, hating how true that sounded. “But it’s not just that. There’s something else. Like, when we’re alone, he’s— I don’t know. He lets his guard down, and I see a side of him that I don’t think anyone else does. He's weirdly honest."

Harper raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not catching feelings?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t even know anymore. I thought this was just a stupid kiss, but now it feels like everything’s different. And it’s so dumb because I should be focused on Nate!"

Ava and Harper exchanged a glance, both of them looking concerned. Harper was the first to speak.

“Okay, maybe this is a sign you need to figure out what you really want. Do you want to keep chasing Nate, or... do you want to see where things go with Rafe?”

You blinked, the question hitting you harder than you expected. What did you want? Nate had always been the plan—nice, safe, uncomplicated Nate. 

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His stupid grin, the way he’d tease you but also get serious for like, two seconds, just long enough to make you question everything.

You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face, “This was a terrible mistake.”

Harper crossed her arms, studying you. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Call him.”

“What?!” You sat up, heart racing. “No way. I can’t just call him out of nowhere.”

“Yes, you can,” Ava chimed in, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here’s the test—if he picks up right away, it means he’s been thinking about you too. If he doesn’t? Then maybe he’s just playing games.”

You stared at them like they’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Are you guys serious? There’s no way I’m doing that. You're not serious."

Harper smirked, grabbing your phone off the table and holding it out to you. “Do it. Right now. Trust me, if he cares, he’ll pick up.”

What kind of fucked up science was that? Rafe? Liking you? It was ridiculous. There was no way. Not when he'd been with so many girls, kissed even more, and never gave you a second glance. You were just...there.

Your stomach twisted in knots. “What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m weird for calling at night? What if I just— explode from embarrassment?”

Ava waved her hand dismissively. “If he doesn’t answer, then you know where you stand. But if he does... well, that’s another story. And I highly doubt you’ll explode. Just call him and see.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your phone like it was about to bite you. It felt reckless, terrifying even. But you were curious too—what would happen if you actually did it? Would he care? Would he answer?

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the phone from Harper and quickly finding Rafe’s name in your contacts before you could change your mind.

Ava grinned, leaning in. “Ooh, this is gonna be good.”

“I thought you hated him—"

“Call him!”

You hit call, holding your breath as the phone rang once, twice—

And then, to your absolute horror, it stopped. He picked up.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice came through, “Everything okay?”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both staring at you like this was the most exciting thing to ever happen. You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes freaking out about calling him.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, cringing at how awkward you sounded. “I just... wanted to see if you were ready for tomorrow’s study session.”

Lame. So, so lame.

Rafe chuckled softly. “You called me at night to ask about studying? I didn’t know I was that irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

He laughed again, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Too late. Anyway, I’m ready for tomorrow. Was studying really the reason you called?”

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both nodding furiously, encouraging you to say something—anything that wasn’t study-related.

“Well... maybe not just that,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

There was a pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

There was another moment of silence, like you were both trying to figure out what to say next.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Rafe said, his voice a little lower, almost... warmer? “Night.”

“Night,” you replied, and then the call ended.

You dropped your phone onto the couch, staring at it like it had just turned into a bomb.

Harper squealed. “He picked up right away! And he was flirty! Oh my God, he likes you!”

Ava clapped her hands, bouncing on the couch. “I knew it! He’s totally into you. Nevermind what we said earlier. Rafe Cameron is into you. We were wrong. Scratch the whole 'he’s just messing with your head' thing. He’s definitely catching feelings.”

You scowled, “Where’s your backbone? Five minutes ago, you were all, ‘Rafe’s trouble, don’t fall for it,’ and now you’re practically shipping us?”

Harper shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, but that was before he picked up right away and sounded all soft. That’s different, babe.”

“Exactly!” Ava chimed in. “Nate who?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. He’s... safe. And uncomplicated. Why am I even entertaining this idea of Rafe?”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Because safe doesn’t make your heart race. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you stay up all night overthinking. If you were so into Nate, you wouldn’t be calling Rafe at night. Or letting him kiss you!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. They had a point, as annoying as it was. Nate might’ve been the goal, but Rafe was what had your head spinning. You groaned again, flopping back against the couch.

Sure, maybe he’d been acting a little off lately. Like, sometimes he’d actually ask you how your day was or show up when he knew you’d be around. You didn’t think much of it, though. That’s just how it was with guys like Rafe—he probably wanted something, or maybe he was just bored.

You huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s just so stupid. He’s Rafe. He’s... ugh, he’s complicated, and I don’t even know if he’s serious, or if he’s just bored, or what. And now I’ve kissed him, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and—”

“And now you’re realizing that maybe Nate isn’t what you really want after all,” Harper finished.

You sighed, hugging a pillow to your chest. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He’d flirt, he’d flash that stupid grin, and then he’d move on like nothing ever happened. Why would you be different? 

“Easy. You figure out what you want. Not what Nate wants, not what Rafe wants. You. And until then, just... enjoy. No one said you had to decide everything right now.”

Harper nodded in agreement, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. Take it slow. And for tonight, let’s just not overthinking every little thing, okay?”

Yet, you thought about him all night. You’d seen the way he treated other girls. He’d throw them those lazy smiles, the ones that practically screamed I’ll forget your name by tomorrow, and it always seemed to work.

They all fell for it—why wouldn’t they? Rafe was good at getting what he wanted, and he never stuck around long enough for things to get messy. You? You were invisible up until recently. He only paid attention when he felt like pissing you off. Your friends had to be reading too much into things.

This was Rafe. The same Rafe who was impossible to figure out, who never took anything seriously—least of all you. There was no way he liked you. 

But the next day came way too fast, and you were paying for it. Hard.

You groaned as you dragged yourself into the library, sunglasses on like they were going to somehow shield you from the pounding headache.

Harper and Ava had insisted on one more glass of wine, which of course, turned into two. And now, you were here, praying Rafe wouldn’t notice that you felt like death.

As you slumped into the chair across from him, he immediately raised an eyebrow, “Rough night?”

You gave him a look, your head already throbbing too much for his sarcasm. “Don’t even start, Cameron.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your state. “Wow, I can smell the regret from here. You look like you partied with a bottle of tequila and lost.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was wine, thank you very much. And yeah, it was a little too much.”

He chuckled softly, flipping open his notebook. “A little? You look like you just survived a war zone. Was the study session that boring to look forward to?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” you muttered, wincing as you reached for your bag. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying every second of it. “I’m impressed you made it at all. Should I have brought a bucket? You know, just in case?”

You glared at him from behind your sunglasses. “I hate you so much right now.”

Rafe just grinned, unfazed. “Trust me, it’s mutual. But seriously, you need water or something? You’re about two seconds away from face-planting on that table.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Still, your mouth felt like a desert, and the thought of anything cold and hydrating sounded like heaven.

“Maybe… a coffee?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? No?”

“You’re not drinking coffee before you eat.”

You squinted at him, thoroughly annoyed. “Rafe, I’m hungover, not five years old.”

He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not swayed.

“Hungover means your brain’s working even worse than normal, so yeah, I’m pulling the adult card here. You need food before coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting it instantly as your head throbbed harder. “Fine. I’ll get food after the coffee.”

He shook his head, already getting up. “Nope. I’m grabbing you a bagel or something.”

“Rafe, seriously—” you started, but he was already walking away, not even bothering to let you finish.

You slumped back in your chair, groaning under your breath. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and your stomach was twisting in a way that wasn’t just from the hangover. But it was so typical of him to boss you around, like he knew what was best for you. He seemed almost too serious about all this, like it wasn’t just about breakfast or caffeine. Was he actually… worried?              

He was being so over-the-top about something so simple. Maybe he noticed things you didn’t even realize were slipping—how little you’d been eating, how tired you always seemed. You didn’t want him to worry, to get so wrapped up in how you were doing. But the fact that he did… 

Rafe returned, dropping a bagel in front of you. “Eat. Then you can have your coffee.”

You blinked at the bagel, caught off guard. “You actually got me food?”

He gave you a look. “You really thought I wouldn’t? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A pain in my ass?” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it. You unwrapped the bagel, taking a cautious bite, and, annoyingly, it actually helped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now, once you finish that, we’ll get started on actual studying. You might wanna take those sunglasses off too. It’s not that bright in here.”

“Stop being so smug about it,” you grumbled, but you took another bite of the bagel, your headache easing just a little.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Hey, if you’re gonna drink like that, you should at least have someone who can take care of you after.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this your way of saying you care?”

“Eat your bagel.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest. Why was he always like this? One minute he was the biggest pain, and the next, he was sweet? You took another bite of the bagel, trying to ignore the way his comment made your stomach do a weird little flip.

Rafe just watched you, arms crossed, looking smug as ever. "I'm not saying anything," he teased, leaning forward slightly. "But you did call me last night."

You nearly choked on your bagel. "That was for studying!"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. "Oh, right. You totally call guys at night to talk about history."

You threw a balled-up napkin at him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Don't start with me, Cameron. You texted me first!"

"Fair enough," He caught the napkin effortlessly, still grinning, like teasing you was the highlight of his day. He was holding his hands up in surrender, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. "Don’t know if it’s the kiss or maybe you’re just starting to realize I'm not all bad."

You scoffed, trying to brush off how much that actually hit home.

"Please. You're still an entitled jerk, Rafe. One kiss doesn’t change that."

But the truth was, maybe it did change something. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since. And now, sitting here with him being all unexpectedly considerate, it was getting harder to pretend like there wasn’t something going on.

“So it hasn’t been keeping you up at night?”

“Why would it? It was just a kiss. Happens all the time, right?”

His smirk widen, “So I didn’t get your panties in a twist?”

You were going to throw a book at his face.

"You’re so full of yourself," you muttered, trying to act unbothered, but your pulse quickened.

Rafe leaned in a little closer, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m just saying, it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ with the way you keep getting flustered. You sure it didn’t mean anything?”

You narrowed your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m totally falling for you? That I can’t stop thinking about the kiss? Because that’s not happening.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again, but something shifted in his expression. He was still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity now, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll just keep doing my thing then.”

“Your thing? What, being an annoying, arrogant jerk?” you shot back, though there was less bite in your tone than usual.

Rafe’s lips twitched, “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you up at night.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? Why was this working on you?

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the whole reason you were here in the first place: studying, Nate, anything but this. But the way Rafe was looking at you right now, like he could see through all the walls you put up... yeah, it was messing with your head again.

"Can we just study now?" you grumbled, flipping open your textbook, praying the conversation would shift before your cheeks got any redder. "I didn’t drag myself here to talk about your ridiculous fantasies."

His grin softened into something more genuine, and he shook his head, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. Let’s get started before your brain melts from that hangover.”

But as you pulled out your notes, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. And worse, you knew your heart was doing the same—stupid fluttering and all.

There was something about this back-and-forth with him that was starting to feel... different. And maybe, just maybe, that scared you more than you were willing to admit.

As the two of you dove into the study session, you tried—really tried—to focus on the material in front of you. But every time he leaned in a little closer or cracked a joke that made you roll your eyes, your mind wandered back to that kiss. To the way he looked at you when no one else was around. To the fact that, as much as you hated to admit it, Rafe Cameron was making you feel something you hadn’t expected.

“Do you remember that bonfire when we were sixteen?” he asked all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Which one? There were like, a million bonfires.”

“The one where you dumped your drink in my face.”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth. Oh. That bonfire. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory came rushing back, clear as day.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you forget. One minute I was talking to you, and the next, I was soaking wet with a face full of—what was it? Lemonade?”

“Spiked lemonade,” you corrected, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” he echoed, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane. “I asked if you wanted to hang out by the water. How’s that deserving a drink to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the old annoyance bubble up again. “You asked me to hang out after you and your friends had spent the whole night making fun of me."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe we were a little rough back then. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a dick that night.”

“You were always a dick,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind your words. Sixteen-year-old you had despised him and his cocky attitude. 

He smirked, “You were so pissed off. Your face was all red, and you were shaking with anger, like you couldn’t believe I’d even dared to speak to you.”

“You had it coming.”

“I probably did,” he agreed, a softer look crossing his face. “But I remember thinking, even back then, you were different. You didn’t take shit from anyone.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Wait, are you actually complimenting me right now? What is happening?”

Rafe just grinned, leaning back again, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve always had more fight in you.”

Your stomach did that weird little flip again, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the crumbs left on the table. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I think that’s why I liked messing with you so much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “You always pushed back.”

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond to that. The Rafe you remembered from back then was all arrogance and teasing, but this... this was different. It was like he was admitting that he’d seen you in a way no one else had back then. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching cut your conversation short. You glanced up, thinking it might just be another student passing by, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Nate walking toward you and Rafe.

Rafe’s smirk faded instantly when he spotted him approaching.

“Hey,” Nate greeted with a casual smile, though his eyes flicked quickly between you and Rafe, “Didn’t know you guys studied here too.”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal even though your brain was racing. “Yeah, uh, just catching up on some work.”

Nate’s smile wavered slightly as his gaze lingered on Rafe, then back to you. “Mind if I join? I was just gonna find a spot to get some work done, but...” His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

For a second, you were torn. Nate was here, right in front of you—the guy you’d been chasing for months, the one who was supposed to be the plan. But Rafe was sitting across from you.

He leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms with that signature smirk creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, sure, the more, the merrier.”

You shot him a look, silently pleading with him not to make this worse, but he just raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation.

Nate pulled out a chair, setting his bag down, “What’re you working on?” he asked, glancing between you and Rafe.

Before you could answer, Rafe spoke up, again, “Just a little review. Nothing too complicated, right?” His eyes flicked to you, daring you to answer.

You swallowed hard, feeling both their gazes on you. “Yeah, just going over some notes. We’re almost done, actually.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than necessary, like he was sizing him up. “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll just... grab a spot over there.” 

“You do that.”

“Rafe.” you grumbled under your breath, kicking him under the table.

"You wanna grab lunch after? I was gonna head to that new sandwich place, and figured you might want to come."

For a split second, you hesitated. Lunch with Nate was the safe, easy option—exactly what you’d been trying to hold onto. But the way Rafe was watching you now... Nate’s invitation wasn’t just about lunch. It was a claim, a reminder that he was the one you were supposed to be into.

"I, um—” you started, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You’d just spent the last half hour trying to convince yourself that Rafe didn’t matter. That this whole thing with him wasn’t a big deal. But now, with Nate standing right here, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting.

Rafe stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Well, looks like you’ve got plans," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at you, before grabbing his notebook. "Catch you later, I guess."

Before you could say anything, he walked away, his footsteps heavy as he left the library. You stared after him, your heart doing this weird thing where it felt like it was both racing and sinking at the same time.

Nate raised an eyebrow, watching Rafe go. "That guy’s... intense," he said, his tone light, but you could tell he was fishing for something.

You forced a smile, "Yeah, that’s Rafe for you."

But even as you said it, your mind wasn’t on Nate. It was still stuck on Rafe—on the way he’d looked at you before he left, like maybe he’d been hoping you wouldn’t just go along with Nate’s plan. Like maybe he’d wanted you to choose something different.

"So, lunch?" Nate asked again, his smile back in place, but it didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

You swallowed hard, nodding automatically. “Sure, lunch sounds good.”

But as you followed him out of the library, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you’d just walked away from something important. 

[neiptune]

i'm gonna kiss you like the sun cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, barely proofread, this is sooo self indulgent and warm and fluffy and i just love him to the moon and back like trigger warning he's perfect

Brazil really is everything Shoyo said it would be.

He wasn’t sure about bringing you to Rio at first, insisted that São Paulo alone would’ve been more comfortable, but you really wanted to explore the city that welcomed him for two whole years so long ago. You’re so glad he decided to accomodate the request: witnessing the stars in his eyes as you wandered around the city, feeling the emotion laced into his tone as he described special spots and introduced you to old friends in confident portuguese, getting to observe how perfectly tangerine curls caught the soft light of sunsets on flawless beaches… made it all worth it.

São Paulo was nice too: ever the cosmopolitan metropolis, it reminded you of Tokyo albeit in a completely original way. Shoyo was given a nice, comfortable apartiment in Chácara Flora but you spent little to no time in there, too busy exploring Ibirapuera park, different museums, climbing all the way up the Farol Santander building and enjoying oh so much good food. However, as much as you loved the city and its locals, Rio is different.

The sky is so big it hurts to look at, an impossible shade of blue makes one feel as if each morning nature paints it the most marvelous nuance just to make sure you’d spend a little extra time with your head tilted back. Colorful streets are filled with music at all times, bubbly enough to persuade complete strangers to attempt a few improvised steps on the way home or right outside a bar, on nights when the mere fact of being alive makes the world feel just a tad bit more magical. Your taste buds have been blessed with the most delicious servings of feijoada, churrasco, coxinha and pão de queijo, one of Hinata’s personal favorites.

The amount of love Shoyo has for Rio makes more sense now that you get to experience his deep connection with the city firsthand. No wonder he calls it his second home: the first real gift he bought for himself was a luxurious penthouse in Ipanema, complete with terrace, a gorgeous view on the beach and a private pool. He never misses the chance to fly his family or friends for a vacation, certainly happy to have a well-situated life in both São Paulo and Tokyo but equally joyous at the prospect of making additional special memories in the city that is still so dear to him.

It’s the first time you accepted to visit, always more inclined to simply wait for him to return to either Tokyo or the Miyagi prefecture. Flying is not exactly your favorite activity and 20+ hours of planes have always been a pretty convincing deterrent. Turns out, missing your boyfriend too much is an equally strong incentive.

And so you’re here, on one of the most beautiful beaches on the other side of the world, sitting on a  comfortable towel and still a bit jet lagged as you excitedly recount the latest gossip about one of your colleagues, secretly planning to propose to her girlfriend soon. Except it feels like you’re the only one hearing the story.

“Shoyo”, you pout, “are you listening?”.

“No”, he says right away, blunt in his honesty as always, gaze fixed on something distant above your shoulder, brows furrowed in worry “sorry, I’ll be right back” and just like that, he gets up from the towel you’re sharing to walk off toward a destination you can only pinpoint when you turn your head around.

There’s a beach volleyball court, because of course there is, and a group of boys seems to be having a good time playing. For some reason the teams are not balanced, it’s two against three, but they’re all laughing and having fun. All except one, a kid sitting on the sand not too far away from those you can only guess are his friends, scowl deep and brows furrowed. While the others look like teenagers, he seems way younger with those lanky arms and thin legs. From the way he’s begrudgingly observing the game, it wouldn’t be unfair to assume that he wasn’t allowed to play.

Shoyo approaches him with the wave of a hand and a friendly inflection in his portuguese. It doesn’t take long for the kid to replace a deeply wary expression with a more relaxed one. He nods at some point and your boyfriend sits next to him on the sand, at reasonable distance to make sure the kid is comfortable being so close to a stranger, baseball cap pushed further down as he observes the game. Your best guess is that he asked the boy if it was okay for him to watch the match with him, probably introduced himself simply as someone who’s passionate about the sport.

You observe as Shoyo’s lips move but his eyes stay focused on the court, comments and possibly suggestions mumbled to himself, a few claps and cheers for good measure. It’s the boy that wants to talk to him now, he’s probably asking a few questions and Hinata can finally accomplish what was probably his mission all along. They chat for a bit, then the kid shrugs and angrily shakes his head, utters something under his breath and you can see the disapproval in the downwards curve of your boyfriend’s mouth. He’s up again after a while, as he walks off the boy yells something you don’t understand after him. When Hinata is back shortly after, there’s a ball in his hands and a wide grin on his face.

It takes some convincing and putting a good amount of distance between them and the group, but eventually Shoyo is able to convince him to play. When the kid gets up from the sand, you can’t help but smile: he’s not nearly as tall as his friends.

It starts with some easy setting drills, then forearm bumps. You’re lying on your tummy now, book in hand but still a few glances curiously directed to where they’re enjoying themselves. You can hear Shoyo’s laugh and see his companion’s now relaxed features, smile beaming as he digs to try and catch your boyfriend’s spikes. He most certainly willingly misses a few of the boy’s ones, dramatically throws himself on the powdery sand now sticking to their chests and backs. Yet, they’re having a good time. While probably risking a sunstroke but still, they’re enjoying themselves.

And so you relax, focus on your designated beach read, content to finally have some time to digest a few additional pages. The main character decides to spend the summer on a remote island in the middle of the pacific ocean, meets a group of friends and begins a dreamy intimate friendship with one attractive, local surf instructor.

You’re devouring the chapter following their one night stand when the shadow of someone crouching down in front of your towel makes your gaze flicker up.

“Hey beautiful”, Shoyo grins, all flushed cheeks and glistening shoulders, “wanna go for a swim with me?”.

He doesn’t apologize for having left so abruptly and, as you push back some of the hair sticking to his forehead, it’s a relief to find yourself not as bruised as you'd feel at the beginning of your relationship. Shoyo has taught you that not every gesture or word carries actual malice: he has his own way of looking at the world and will leave in the middle of a conversation if he witnesses a kid being unfairly tossed aside. It’s what makes him, him. And you love him so much.

“That was very kind of you”, he downplays your compliment instantly, with a shake of the head. Shoyo doesn’t always apologize but he never fails to explain.

“It was nothing, we just played a little. Then one of his friends recognized me and asked for an autograph, so I think Marcelo finally felt more confident. He’s really talented, you know? I told him about all the people who never wanted to play with me either and that he should never allow anyone to tell him that he’s not good enough to do what he loves”, he smiles and then softly grasps the hand still gently running through his locks to press it to his lips.

“Should’ve told him about the little giant”, you grin.

“I did! But he didn’t seem too interested in gringos, was wary of me too when I approached him”.

“Well, I’m pretty sure this particular gringo has made his day”.

Shoyo’s chuckle is soft and you press a kiss to the portion of his knee that is not covered in sand before closing your book with a loud thud and shoving it back into your bag.

“Was I gone for long? Did you get bored?”, he offers a hand to help you stand up and you bask in the comfort of his sincere worry. He may get distracted easily but you’re never not among his priorities.

“Didn’t get bored. Did miss you”.

“Oh no”, a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes, “whatever we should do about that”.

A yelp is heard when he pulls you into him and picks you up in one fluid motion, laugh like a melody when you grumble some nonsense about how sweaty he is and the amount of sand that is now sticking to your body as well.

“See? Now we both need a good rinse” Shoyo kisses your pout away and smiles against the comforting curve of your lips when he feels your legs wrap around his waist.

“Can’t stand you” the good natured affront only makes him chuckle harder as he carries you toward the shore, precious cargo clinging onto him like a koala bear.

“Ah, you were standing for me alright this morning against the wall”.

You furrow your brows as you meet his playful gaze. “I think you’re spending too much time with the wrong Miya twin”.

Tongue in cheek, Shoyo shrugs nonchalantly and tightens his arms around you when you shudder as the water hugs his waist and your ankles. He doesn’t let go and is glad you don’t seem inclined to pull away either, satisfied with being held as you gently wash the sand from his chest and shoulders once your boyfriend settles where the atlantic is deeper but still shallow enough for him to stand.

Shoyo never thought he could’ve loved Rio more than he already does but having you there is an entirely new kind of magic he didn’t believe he’d ever experience. If he didn’t think he’d scare you off and if the rational part of his brain didn’t acknowledge that it would be horribly unfair, it wouldn’t take but a second to ask you to move there with him. For him.

His life is perfect but never complete so long you’re not there to share it. He wants you always, will need you forever, and for a fleeting moment his stomach squeezes when the feeble vision of a white dress flashes before his eyes.

“I love you”, he utters softly, “I love that you’re here”. So much.

He thinks of the sunflowers sitting all pretty in a vase right below his kitchen window, an apartment instantly made all the more special. He receives flowers from fans and his family but you’re the only person who regularly gets them for him. Not because it’s his birthday, not to celebrate or as consolation. The first time you went out for dinner he had some red roses and you showed up with an identical bouquet. Then grinned: I just thought you’d like them. He did.

Shoyo knows you like the back of his hand, so there’s no chance he’d miss the slight hesitation in your smile as you murmur that you love him back.

“Something wrong?”,  he searches your features for any hint of discomfort. You huff, offer some sarcasm to cover up your worries.

“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure it’s good to have such a perceptive boyfriend”.

Alarm bells ring into his head, albeit the sound is distant. If something serious was on your mind, surely you would’ve told him.

“Wanna talk about it?” he doesn’t necessarily want to make this about himself but also desperately wants to ask if it’s him who did something to upset you.

“It’s stupid”.

“It’s never stupid if it troubles you”.

It takes a deep breath and the gentle roll of the waves to gather the right words, one of his hands calmingly rubbing soft circles on your back.

“I just… sometimes I guess I find it hard to believe that you miss me”.

Shoyo’s face falls, hand halts its movements.

“What?”.

“This is entirely on me!”, you hope the quick clarification is enough to alleviate the torment written all over his features, “it’s not something I’m blaming you for! You don’t do anything wrong, ever”.

It doesn’t work. The shock melts into genuine heartache.

“Why would you think that?”, his voice comes out thin and low, a broken whisper. Fuck.

“Because I go through illogical moments and feelings. It’s not you who makes me feel like that, it’s just my brain”.

“Where does your brain get that assumption from?”.

You sigh, loosen the hold around his neck. It’s really hard to put your insecurities into words, especially to the one person who never gave you a single reason to doubt about his affection. It makes you feel like an asshole.

Even during such a disheartening moment, Shoyo thinks of you first. He has no trouble sustaining your weight and keeping you pressed against him with one arm alone, as his other hand gently cups your face to tilt it upwards.

“It’s because I’m happy here”. Not a question. He really does know you better than anyone else.

“You are. And I love that you are. I’m just being a jerk”.

Truth is, you miss him so much it feels unbearable at times. You’d go through such horrible days, hours long crying sessions, only to then open up your instagram and find posts and stories of him laughing, smiling, always having the time of his life. You’d never want him to feel miserable, he deserves everything he has and more. But you’d lie if you said it didn’t occasionally sting. You’d lie if you said you never felt like he didn’t need you after all.

Shoyo hums as he resumes his soft rubbing, thumb gently skimming over the skin under your eye.

“I am happy. I love living in this country and the people in it. I love my job. I’m lucky, my life is perfect”.

“I know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”, his thumb is now pressing onto your lips as a tiny smile stretches his.

“And yet. It’s only complete if you’re with me. Did your brain know that?” he tilts his head to the side “I always miss you. When I’m playing, when I’m not playing, if I’m out with the team, while having breakfast, as I go to sleep. If you’re not where I am, I miss you. I’m happy but I’m not whole. Tell that to your brain for me, yeah?”.

He chuckles when you just look at him, stunned.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper once more.

“Ah, man!”, Shoyo’s laugh is jovial, “I wish I could buy this beach. I wish it was just ours, no people around. Then I could show you just how much I missed you”.

“Shoyo!”, you click your tongue in disapproval.

His gaze softens, genuine affection oozing from a stare so sincere it makes your heart flutter. “I’d buy you this beach if I could. All the beaches. Hell, the entire country. You know that, right? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I’d buy you the planet, the entire world, then break the news to everyone else. Too bad, guys, you have to leave! It’s ours now”.

“You’re so silly”, despite the smile, there’s a tiny quiver to your voice and you hope to fuck you don’t burst out crying in the middle of the atlantic ocean just because your boyfriend is in love with you. He means it, you know he does. If someone told him there was a way to buy the planet for you, he’d actually do it. Hinata says what’s on his mind at all times, never been one to lie or exaggerate: he’s just like that, hand-on-heart honest.

“Yeah. And I love you. Please don’t forget that or I’m gonna have to purchase the earth”, his grin is infectious and you can’t help but mirror it as you run a hand through his hair, dampening the shorter bangs into a darker burnt sienna.

“Don’t need it. I have you, you’re already my world”, the second the words fall from your lips you gag so loudly a few tourists turn to look, Shoyo’s mirthful laughter filling your ears and heart. “God, I was never this corny. Look what you turned me into, I think I’m gonna be sick”, your grimace is adorable to him and, judging by the pinkish hue emerging on tanned skin and among freckles, he’s not exactly opposed to sappiness.

“I think you should kiss me”, Shoyo mumbles, but it’s a formality really, because his hand leaves your face cold as he pulls you into a breathless kiss by the back of your head. It’s not entirely appropriate to kiss like that with people around but he chases you whenever you try to pull back, determination burning fiercely as he keeps you pressed against his body.

It feels more than perfect. It feels whole. It feels like everything he’ll ever need.

[shitsndgiggs]

hey! i‘d like to request kenan x portuguese! reader where she maybe works for the portuguese national team and türkiye is playing against portugal? thank you sm in advance 🫶🏻 :)

LOVE FROM THE OPPOSITE SIDE - KENAN YILDIZ

In which you find yourself torn between professional duty and personal affection

Kenan Yildiz x portuguese physio! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The stadium buzzed with excitement as fans filled the seats, their cheers and chants echoing through the air.

The atmosphere was electric, a blend of anticipation and rivalry. Portugal versus Turkey was always a thrilling matchup, but today, the stakes felt higher than ever.

I stood on the sidelines, my heart pounding not just from the excitement of the game but also from knowing that my boyfriend, Kenan, was going there on the field, playing for Turkey.

As a physiotherapist for the Portuguese national team, I was proud of my role, but it also meant that today, I had to keep my professional demeanor in check while watching Kenan from the opposing side.

The whistle blew, and the match began. Portugal quickly took control of the game, their fluid passes and coordinated attacks putting Turkey on the defensive.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of conflict every time Portugal made a move towards Turkey's goal.

Midway through the first half, Portugal scored their first goal. The stadium erupted in cheers, and I found myself instinctively clapping along with my colleagues.

And just seven minutes later, an unfortunate own goal from Turkey made the score 2-0 in favor of Portugal. I glanced over at the Turkish bench, wondering how Kenan was feeling as he watched from the sidelines.

The first half ended with Portugal leading, and I could see the determination on the Turkish players' faces as they headed to the locker room. During the halftime break, I stayed with the team, attending to any minor injuries and offering encouragement.

My mind, however, was on Kenan. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but I knew I had to remain professional.

The second half started, and Turkey seemed more determined than ever. But even then, it didn’t stop Portugal from scoring their third goal in the 56th minute, making it 3-0.

The crowd went wild, but I felt a mix of elation and sorrow. Elation for my team, but sorrow for Kenan.

I could see the frustration on Kenan's face as he prepared to come on the pitch And in the 58th minute, he was finally subbed in. His presence brought a renewed energy to the Turkish team.

He moved with confidence and determination, trying to turn the tide for his team. But despite their best efforts, Portugal's defense was solid.

After the final whistle blew, I quickly attended to my duties, checking on the players and ensuring everyone was okay.

Once my responsibilities were done, I made my way to the players' tunnel, hoping to catch Kenan before he left with his team.

I spotted him talking to some of his teammates, his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. When he saw me, his expression softened, and he excused himself to come over.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Hey," he replied, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Congrats on the win."

"Thanks, but I'm more concerned about you," I admitted, looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just frustrating, you know? We tried so hard, but it just wasn't our day.

I nodded, understanding his feelings completely. "You played really well, Kenan. Sometimes things just don't go the way we want them to."

He looked down, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "It's just tough, seeing you on the other side. Knowing you're cheering for them."

I cupped his cheek, making him look at me. "I'm always cheering for you, no matter what. I'm proud of you, Kenan."

He gave me a small smile, his eyes softening. "Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot."

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, the noise of the stadium fading into the background. It didn't matter which team had won; what mattered was that we were together.

And even though Turkey lost today, they still have a huge chance to advance to the round of 16, which is something to be proud of.

Later that night, after the teams had gone their separate ways, we met up at the hotel where the turkish national team was staying at.

In the privacy of his room, away from prying eyes, we could finally be ourselves.

Kenan layed on the bed, his head in my lap as I gently ran my fingers through his hair. "I hate losing," he mumbled, looking up at me with a pout.

"I know," I replied softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "But you'll bounce back. You always do."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I just... I don't like you seeing me like this."

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "It's okay, Kenan. We all have our bad days. I'm here for you, no matter what."

He opened his eyes, looking up at me with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "You're too good to me, Y/N."

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss him softly. "I love you, that's why."

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me down beside him. "I love you too," he whispered, holding me close.

[devilishchaos]

Heyy idk if u take requests but can u do where the reader have a girl with ruben and they’re celebrating the ucl win on the pitch etc and the their child starts playing with ronny and they assume that the girl and ronny have a tiny crush on eachother yk cute moments etc🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Moments like this | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"

Word Count: 1 059 words

AN: Hello! idk if I take requests, I received this one and this is my first ever request, I loved it and thank you so much. <3 I unfortunately don't speak portuguese so I used google translate, if you find any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know. On another note - I absolutely love Ronnie and everybody from City! I kind of added a little bit more plot so I hope it is okay and I also made it kinda long, like why am I like this? but hey I loved working on this, so I hope you enjoy it :) x

p.s. while I was working on this Mr. The Sexiest Man Alive posts this picture..like sir, are you trying to unalive me or sth..respectfully tho..Rúben stop playing with me and let me have your kids <3 :p x

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Is your missus here tonight?” John asked his best mate Rúben, from across the room, as all Manchester City players were getting dressed in their kits and were preparing to attend the Uefa Champions League final tonight. Rúben turns away from his locker, trying to brush out a crease that had formed in his shorts. 

“Yes, she flew with the kids. They landed, like two hours ago.” He tells him, going to the mirror to begin fussing with his hair, even though he would just be pushing it back out of his face anyway. “This puts even more pressure. I’m basically obliged to perform well.” 

“She flew alone with two kids for what four hours?” Bernardo joins the conversation, grinning at Rúben. “She is a wonder woman.” 

“She definitely is!” John agrees, walking over to pat Rúben's shoulder comfortingly but he shakes his head, already nervous at the idea of his kids watching him. After the loss in the final 2021 and in the semi’s in 2022, Rúben promised his family to win the next time around. And now it was hitting him hard - he never breaks his promises. The pressure was definitely skyrocketing through the roof. 

*

It all happened very fast. You needed a couple of seconds to process that Rodri in fact had scored a beautiful goal. Which meant that City took the lead 1-0. There were approximately 20 more minutes and if City were able to handle the tension, that meant that the guys would complete a treble. You knew what that meant to them, to Rúben. Everything was at a very high stake. Your stomach was in knots and your leg bobbed up and down with anxiousness as you were looking at the clock, counting down the seconds until the end of the match, until the referee's final whistle. 

After what felt like the longest extra time that you’ve experienced in a match it was finally over, when the end of the match was announced everybody in the VIP sector (the families of the players) stood up and raised their arms in joy, cheering in excitement. 

“George. Azlia. Come on! Let’s go congratulate daddy!” you took them by their hands and somehow managed to get down to the pitch. 

The three of you push your way through the crowd on the soccer field. It was hard for you to see the way in the ocean of bodies. Then John taps lightly on your shoulder and points at a gap you can pass through. That’s when you see him. He has his back turned to you, engaged in conversation with a staff member. He doesn’t see you, but it’s like he feels you coming, and turns around, his gaze landing to you. Without looking back at the man behind him, he excuses himself and starts making his way over to you. 

“Papai!” George screams as he breaks away from your hand and runs to your husband, obviously he can't contain his excitement anymore. Rúben kneels down to be on the same level as him and he runs straight in his arms. You picked up Azlia as she was struggling to keep up with your pace with her little feet, because you wanted to get to Rúben faster. 

As you finally reach him you walk right into his open arms, your hands fisting his jersey. It feels so good to be holding him. 

“You did it! I’m so, so, so proud of you, amor! You did so good! I’m so happy for you! A treble, wow..unbelievable!” you said quite loudly in his ear with a smile that hurt your cheeks. 

You raised your head a little and he bent down a little, so you could share a kiss. As you pulled away, you gave him a kiss to the side of his mouth and ran your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Eu te amo, meu amor.” he said to you, looking directly into your eyes wanting to look into them forever. 

Not breaking eye contact you replied just a heartbeat later “Te amo mais.” 

“Da-da,da-..” Azlia babbled in your arms, reminding you guys of her existence. 

“Eu também te amo, princesa.” Rúben said as he kissed her chubby cheeks. 

*

The awarding took place very quickly. You moved away with the rest of the wives, girlfriend and family members of the players and found yourself jumping from conversation to conversation. Everyone was so excited. Except the kids. They didn’t understand what was happening and just ran away the second the ceremony was done. 

You were frantically looking for Azlia when you felt two big, strong hands on your waist, bringing you into a hug from behind. 

“What are you doing, love?” Rúben asked with amusement. 

“I’m looking for Azlia! I can’t find her! George ran away with Roman and Riaan, and I swear Azlia was standing right beside me and now she is gone.” you said while turning in his arms, to face him. 

“Baby she is a one-and-a-half-year-old, with tiny little legs. How far can she go?” he chuckled, as you continued to search for her with your eyes. 

“Oh, there she is. Taking pictures with the other kids.” you finally spotted her, taking a picture with Kyle, his sons and Ronnie. 

“Baby, chill. These kids are having the time of their lives. They can’t stay in the same position for more than 10 seconds. Look at them running around!” Rúben assured you. That made you smile, but not as much as when you watched Ronnie chasing Azlia around and the two pig tails on top of her hair were bouncing with every step she took.

“Aww, look babe, Ronnie is showing Azi his medal. How cute!” you pointed at them for Rúben to see. 

“He is now putting his medal on her..” Rúben stated quite shook “Yo, Foden, watch your son!” he then shouted in Phil’s direction, who stood all the way to the other side of the pitch. 

“Rúben! Oh my God! Baby..they are kids..” you hit his chest lightly, bursting into a fit of giggles. 

“I have a medal, too..I’m gonna go show it to her.” and with that he left you watching him attempt to come close to Ronnie and Azlia, but when they saw him approaching them - they ran away laughing.

[ronaldothebestie]

I'm Sick | Rúben Dias

* ˚ ��� Summary: Tik tok trends with Rúben and Singer!Reader!

Tw: Rúben is an idiot, fluff, Reader being simp, your tik tok account calls "CanelaDiasFan", Canela being the best cute daughter ever, dialogues in negrito are in Portuguese, not 100% revised, Canela means Cinnamon.🤎

English is not my first language!!!

Beautiful people are talking

* ˚ ✦

Version 1 (the one that was never published)

Inspiration

-

"Please Ruby, let's do this? I promise I won't publish it." You beg, sitting at the kitchen counter while Rúben prepares lunch, who was more concerned with finishing the famous Bacalhau com Natas.

"Nop. The desire to appear on the neighboring social media is not incredible today."

"It's funny that you always feel like showing off your whole body on Instagram, but when it comes to recording a cute video with your girlfriend it's the biggest drama, incredible."

"First, the photos are for... Professional purposes... Second, jealousy? And third, okay, let's do this."

"Yes, I see, professional purposes... Being a naughty and fishing com- What? A-Are you going to do it!? Rúben!” You jump off the counter radiantly hugging him from behind, smiling like a child, thanking him deeply.

"But wait, the decision was very quick... What do you want, Rúben?" You just looked suspiciously into his eyes.

"What will be my reward for doing this?" He asked funny while stirring the food.

"What do you mean, prize? Isn't it enough to make a cute video with your girlfriend, aka me?"

"Um, nop, here we are going to have a win-win situation, if I participate in your video, you will participate in mine."

"Very suspicious Ruby... What kind of video?"

"We play football."

"No."

"No? So no video for either one." He laughed evilly and you just wanted to kill this man, he probably already wanted to record this video and knew perfectly well what he was doing to make it happen.

There was "no advantage" for Rúben and you to record that football video, while in your case, it was the opposite, you practically needed that video for your existence! practically drooling at the thought of Rúben's arm muscle around your neck.

"No! Wait! Alright, I'll record the video." You quickly hide behind Rúben's back, with your head down, you hated playing football, especially with a boring and arrogant football player like him and-

Rúben just turned you around very easily, using a finger to lift your chin and stuck a spoon with the food in your mouth.

"Proof." You chewed with pleasure when you realized how wonderful the food was, your sad mood changed in the blink of an eye, you noticed his hopeful eyes and you couldn't resist.

"It's really good, Ruby."

"It is, isn't it? Now, my dear Bunny, let's not get upset about me humiliating you at football, will we?"

"Your assh-!"

Another spoonful of food was shoved into his mouth.

Hours later...

"Okay, let's get started- What the hell are you doing!?" You were scared when you saw, out of nowhere, Rúben doing push-ups in the middle of your suite.

"I need to emphasize the muscle well." Rúben winked at you, smiling and simply continued.

"I'm sure people know that you have... Protruding muscles..."

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean? And the three hundred photos on your 'insta' showing all your muscles?"

"I'm not showing... It's Art."

"Art? Só se for a arte do cara-"

The video ended with Rúben's biceps almost crushing your face.

...

Version 2 (the one that was published)

Inspiration

-

"Canela, unlike dad, you're not going to blackmail me, right?" You bring the kitten closer to your neck, kissing the brown fur, which purrs in approval and snuggles against you.

You quickly turn on the tik tok camera starting a revolutionary video.

"I can't go out." Cough, cough, "I'm sick." A small paw invades your face, almost sticking it into your eye, but everything ends well.

5M❤️ and 24M views:

caption: The truth about Canela😭

Comments:

@EmmaVermilion (Rúben's version)

— No way she did this with Canela #saveCanela😭💀

@(reader)pistachioicecreAm

— Girl, this is literally the perfect scenario for Ruben to appear 😭😭😭

↳ CanelaDiasFan: Ik😭 but he's a bastard/naughty who only cares about FIFA😡 (I tried, sorry girls 😔)

@serrenna:

— Canela almost killing (reader)🤑🤑🤑

↳ CanelaDiasFan: WDYM 😭😭😭

@FernandoMendes>>>

— She is literally one of the greatest singers ever, but these videos... I can't 😭😭😭❤️

↳ CanelaDiasFan: Ik you like it😏😏🫦

@louboutininBunnyGirlpls:

— MANK VTNC KKLQPIEJSNJSAHUWIA A GATA SE REVOLTANDO SHHAAHAHAHHAHAMAKAKSKAAKK

more comments...

Bônus:

"Meow." When night came, the brown feline snuggled in your lap, purring with your affection behind the ears, while you waited for Rúben.

"Own Canela, aren't you the cutest kitten in the world?" You picked up the kitten and kissed her repeatedly, feeling the kitten snuggle even closer.

"I feel like I was the one who should have been there." Rúben, sat on the bed next to you with a pout.

"Jealous, big guy? She's our baby, I have to give her everything, right Canela?" The cat meows as affirmation, gaining even more affection, now on her belly.

"What a naughty cat."

"Looks like someone... As they say, like father, like daughter.❤️"

I have no idea why I do this, but I realy like it at all😄.

I saw the trend and I thought it really suited Ruben, but he's a bit of a low profile at times and a naughty dog at others so.... We do 50%...

Well, it's 2am and I'm ready to... 😴

From the next line of comments I will add real @ 🥵🥵🥵.

Thanks for reading, reblogs, feedback and likes are very welcome!!!

© All this shit belongs to @ronaldothebestie on Tumblr, so don't translate, repost, copy in no social media, do not commit plagiarism, It's crime and wtf?

[shoyoist]

𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 & 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : hinata shoyo.

hinata shoyo is dazzling. no matter where he goes, no matter who he's with — he always shines the brightest. he's so warm, so radiant — a star, a sun. pulling everyone around him into orbit. and you love it. adore it.

but it's also because he's so full of that fiery heat and light, that you sometimes find yourself doubting what you have with him. it's nothing he did — he's perfect, and always has been, to you — but rather, it was your own insecurities that formed out of realizing just how different you were from him.

he's outgoing no matter who he's talking to, easily blending in while still somehow standing out, and people love him — you know more than a few others that seem to adore him the same way you do.

and you, being someone of the peaceful, subdued twilight between day and night — have no idea how you ended up with someone like him.

and even more so, you have no idea how he fell for someone like you.

because he — he sparkled, and he shone, and he was everything anyone could ever want, he could have won the heart of anyone he ever wanted. he could simply ask for a heart and he’d have it handed to him on a silver platter.

and you? you don’t shine or glow. in fact, you’re a little dim, if we’re going to talk about metaphors of light. and despite how incredibly happy you are together, it sometimes gets to you.

"hey," shoyo calls you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

you look up at him, still surfacing from all your musings, tracing your gaze over his muscled form, his hair and eyes that stand out so bright, tangerine and honey against his sun-bronzed skin. he tugs at the hem of his plain white tee, patting the pockets of his navy shorts to check for his phone and wallet.

it's barely an hour since the sun rose, and you think hinata is so much brighter than the light coming through the doors and windows.

he's about to leave for another practise match, and you're seated in your shared living room, morning coffee unfinished on the table in front of you.

he’s beautiful, you think. bathed in the morning sun, there he stands at your front door. japan's pride and joy, ninja shoyo. him, falling in love with you?

he'd told you that his people back home had cried bitterly over their loss when he left, deciding to return to brazil and play for a brazillian team rather than stay with his people in japan.

he'd told you with a mischievious glint in his eyes and a rogueish smile spread across his face, and the slightest hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. "but hey, they’ll get over it! and … i came back partly so i can be with you, you know. together, like this."

and that had melted your heart. just those words had brought you home the stars and the entire sky — but you also sometimes wonder. if he stayed there, would he be happier? would he be happier if he had chosen those other things over you?

if he were with someone else?

after all, you weren't anyone special, and he wouldn't be getting anything particularly worthy from you — apart from all your love and adoration, but whether that was worthy or not wasn't for you to decide. was it?

"hey, hey?" shoyo repeats, and you blink, standing up. you walk over to him, plucking a strand of curly orange hair off his shoulder and patting the creases away from his chest. "sorry, i was just thinking."

"hm," he tilts his head to a side, picking up his sports bag and pulling it over his shoulder as he does. you know he's not convinced.

the clock ticks past 7:30 AM, and you're glad you don't have any places to be today. you're tired, and you wouldn't be able to see shoyo off like this if you were rushing around getting ready to go out.

shoyo watches you for a few seconds, brows furrowed together ever so slightly. "you okay, baby? looking a little tired. wanna come to the beach with me?"

you smile, noticing how his portuguese was still on the simpler side — and shrug your shoulders as an answer. "that'll just distract you." you tell him in japanese.

lies. nothing can distract shoyo when he's in a game.

all that'll happen is that you'll get to see him in action, eyes somehow glowing brighter than before, sun turning his skin rosy, hair getting peppered with sand as he flies up, kicking his legs back and slamming the ball across the net. an enthralling sight. and then—

"i'll give you a kiss for every point i score." he grins, taking your hand — and all of a sudden, everything you've just been thinking about stops making sense.

"mhm?" you nod, and he licks his lips, thinking. "a kiss for every point, and if my team wins — i'll take you out to eat something good. come, it'll be good for you."

"and if you lose?" you ask, and he only grins wider. "i won't. trust me."

trust you? with my life, shoyo. with my everything. the things you've been thinking about stops making sense — because hinata shoyo is dazzling. he shines bright, he's radiant and he's like the sun. and in that same sense, his passions and desires and his love — they shine, too. it's clear that he adores you as much as you adore him.

with that mutual adoration present and so tangible even to you, though you sometimes feel as if you don’t deserve it, what more was needed?

"shoyo," you still ask, because hearing it from him makes it all better. "you love me, right?"

he looks confused for a second. "yeah? i love you. i love you more than anything."

and again, he plucks out the jewels of the sky and hands them all down to you in one fell swoop, with his words that glimmer and drip with the radiant sincerity of his feelings. "huh, is this what you're thinking about? it's in your eyes, i can see it."

"what do you see?" you ask, but then you forget everything because he's gripping your hand tighter and pulling you closer, for a kiss.

"i love you, mkay? we're together. forever. you know i wanna be with you forever." he says it against your lips, and you almost taste the essence of his words. "i love you, and i'm glad to be with you."

you almost tear up, he's so sweet and so sincere, how could you ever doubt him? 

how he understands what you're thinking so easily, how he says exactly what you want to hear without trying, you don't know — but you appreciate it, and you offer him a smile in return to the way he makes you feel so good, so light, inside. "i love you, too. i love you with all my heart."

"then let's go?" he steps back a little to look at you, bright orange curls framing warm, puppy eyes as he gives you a pout. “please? i wan’ you to come today.” you glance out to the street waiting outside your shared house, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and you nod. "give me a minute, i'll go change."

he gives you a grin that could harness all the power of the sun in it, letting go of you so you can go pull some better clothes on — and you catch his hand before it can fall to his side.

he turns back to you, inquiring, and you answer with a tug at his arm that lets him draw close enough for you to give him a little kiss on the cheek. "i really do love you."

and the blush that spreads across his face as you turn around and retreat to your room, is more proof that he loves you.

hinata shoyo is dazzling. he's the sun, he's the stars, he's the galaxy, and he's everything anyone could ever want. and he loves you.

loves you the way the sun carresses the moon, the way the rays of it kiss the shadows of the twilight at dawn and at dusk.

he's the pride and joy of japan, everyone loves him and he could have anything he had passion for, and anything he desired. and to him, that was to be a player of the sport that brewed and set alight his passions.

and to him, what he desired was you.

note: i was going to say it's crazy that i haven't posted much sfw shoyo content on here, but then i remembered that every time i write something like this about him it gets sooo personal 💔 this is a piece i wrote in 2021 but it comes out now because i say so ! thank you for reading !!

[jealousmartini]

KPOP DR INTRODUCTION

GO! BEYOND! We are MKB!

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MKB [initally called MaKe Believe] is a 5 member KPOP girl group that debuted around 2014-2015 under the company of JYP with their winning album : 5ALIVE! and their most popular songs Superstitious, Greedy hearts and What's more?. Adored for their GIRL-CRUSH aesthetic and catchy choruses that is presented in a film cinematographic manner that tells a story through the visuals as well as the lyrics in the genres POP, EDM CITY-POP, fans around the world can't help but feel entranced by the music and the lore that is made along the way.

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She can sing? She can dance?? She can rap???

SHE'S A TRIPLE THREAT

— BASICS

Date of dr : 2015 02 04

Stage name : rochie (pronounced roe-she)

Most commonly called : keisha/keesha

Birth name : "CR name" keisha rochela banks

Spanish name : audriana rochela banks

Nicknames : rochie, roe, keesh, audrey

Fanbase nicknames : lol doll, jazz hands, dimples, glasses, curly fries

Date of birth : June 20th 1997

Zodiac sign : gemini-cancer cusp

Height : 5"7½

Ethnicity : half puerto rican, half korean

Languages : spanish, korean, english, japanese, portuguese

Group positions : main rapper, lead/main dancer, main singer, visuals, maknae

Representative animal : red panda / bunny

Representative colour : orange

Representative fruit : also an orange

Fanbase name : charmings !

Training period : 10 months

Company : JYP

— KNOWN FOR

Keisha is a witty and ambitious idol who's personality shines brightly through her snappy and energetic choreography, while also showing a raw and passionate side of her through her singing and rapping. She is praised for a her precision, accuracy and emotion by her manager and JYP himself as well as from other Idols.

She is known for occasionally appearing in other k-groups lives either heard in the background or directly in view, rambling about something and coming to say hi to their fanbase. Charmings are shocked to see how close she is to TWICE and BTS in particular, making them wonder how long she has known both groups before she officially became an Idol, and what their relationships are like off camera

She's known for having a pet bunny called Tiffany, Tiff for short. Tiffany often makes appearances in her own lives. Tiffany is very cute and is loved by the fanbase

She is an artist. She tends to draw a lot and can see having piles of stuffed notebooks of drawings in her room. She's too shy to show her art but there was a screenshot of her accidentally leaving one of her notebooks open showing a double page section filled with well drawn sketches of recognised idols. Some from BTS some from TWICE.

She is a spanish black person. This makes her stand out from all other idols. But when she made her first appearance onto a game show, Black fans and Spanish fans of kpop had basically gone crazy seeing a black Idol speak their language for the first time and the number of Charmings doubled, if not tripled.

She is known for being so fucking painfully honest about everything it's funny. She's basically voluntarily called herself out on multiple occasions. Like when she admitted that she likes both man boobs and woman boobs (she's bi) or when she brain vomits her thoughts onto her tumblr page (yes she is in fact a tumblr girly), thinking no one would've seen her viral post that read "namjoon thinks I'm a bad influence on army cus of how vocal i am as if they didnt already want be crushed by his beefy arms before I admitted I did. They just get me (i joke btw.. kinda)" that she had deleted the second she posted it, but of course it got screenshoted and reposted onto twitter☠️

— FUN FACTS

She is older than Jungkook by 4 months

She is close friends with NAYEON, Sana, Chaeyoung, YOONGI, JIMIN, JUNGKOOK, Namjoon, J-hope, TAEHYUNG, Jin, BANGCHAN, Felix, Hyunjin and YUNA

No one knows this yet but she has a crush on 4 of the idols listed and 2 of the highlighted names are part of the four, the other 2 are not

Red Panda is her animal representative because there was a video circulating of her dressed up as a mascot for her highschool as a red panda

She is an excellent cook and loves to cook for her members and her idol friends

She is the 2nd most shipped with trainee in MKB before she even became an Idol. She is now the first most shipped idol in MKB.

She is a genuine ARMY herself lmao😭😭 way too many times has she been caught singing a bts song when on camera

Tags! : @livingmydreamlife5555 @cocozydiaries @theshifterbear @4ellieluv

Side note💌 : she's so silly guys. I hope no one suspects me having a crush on any of the idols in my dr.. — 🍊💭

[navstuffs]

Hello, first of all, YOUR WRITING IS GOD’S WORK, second of all, I need a second part of “I know it’s thick”, bc that took me out 💀 It was fucking fantastic. And last but definitely not least, you seem very sweet, and like an amazing person, keep up the good work 🥰💕👏✨

"I know it is thick." - Part 2

Pairing: Boss!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: It is thick, and now you know it.

Warnings tags: SMUT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE, blowjob (m receiving), public sex, under-the-desk blowjob while jill is in the room, porn with feelings (sorta), carlos always brazilian in my fics (foda-se capcom ESSE HOMI É DO BRASIL), translations at the bottom

Author's Notes: ANON YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!! the idea came to me while reading your ask and i was like WHY NOT? again, bear with me since smut is still a constant work in progress. also thank you so much for your kind words and requesting with me, i hope i deliver! <;3 @cerezzzita aqui miga 💖

part 1 | my carlos's masterlist

You would never have guessed you would end up like this. You see, after sending that text message, you thought you would have been fired or sued for sexual harassment within Carlos's rights.

Not that by late Friday night, you would be doing extra work. And by that, it means your legs spread apart, holding yourself back in the cabinets of the stockroom as your boss Carlos pounds into you, his big hands holding your hips with such strength it would probably hurt tomorrow. Not that you cared: since this whole thing started three weeks ago, you have discovered you had muscles that ached that you didn't even know existed.

As Carlos's ball hit against your ass, the slapping sound sounding pornographic to your ears enough to drive you crazy, you hold onto the cold shelves, your legs barely keeping you steady. Every thrust he gives inside you is more powerful than the other, seeming to reach deeper into you. It had to be that thick cock, you thank mentally. 

"Are you close?" Carlos wonders, and you imagine his bare ass looks delicious, his social pants on the floor.

You moan a pathetic yes and beg Carlos to touch you, and his hands find you, jerking in that delicious way only he could do it. It is unfair how well Carlos knew your body, although this only started a couple of weeks ago.

Three weeks since you stayed late and found out it was really that thick and you could barely fit in your mouth. Three weeks since this man gave you the best orgasm of your life. Three weeks doing extra work time.

With the way he is rubbing you, you don't take long to cum, biting your lips and closing your eyes to hold back a moan. Carlos gives you two final thrusts before you hear him muttering a curse in portuguese as he cums deep inside your walls. You stay silent for a moment, just the sound of your breaths before Carlos pulls out of you, his semen slowly dropping out of you.

You take a second to straighten yourself, your back hurting (it seems you are taking another ibuprofen tomorrow), when you feel Carlos pass a cloth between your legs, cleaning you gently.

"Oh, mhm, thanks?" You say unsure, and he smiles, giving you his handkerchief, with his initials sewn on it.

Carlos stares at you, wanting to say something. You are a little worried about it might be: yes, what you are doing is wrong, and you both know it. You are worried Carlos might want to end this sooner than later; you know he will have to. Or maybe he will finally invite you out? Maybe, you will end up fucking Carlos in a proper bed, not on top or under his desk.

"I will see you later, then." Carlos doesn't wait for your answer, and you ignore the pain in your chest, his handkerchief just the memory he left on you (along, well, with his cum). Again, this would have to end someday, right? It was just sex.

Two days later, you are under Carlos's desk a little after everyone leaves. You see, you went in there to end it all before Carlos could but, somehow, ended up with you on top of his desk, his head on the middle of your thighs. The things Carlos could do with his tongue were skills out of this world, and suddenly you can't remember what you wanted to do here.

You just didn't want him to stop.

So now, you are just repaying for the multiple orgasms from earlier, you tell yourself as his thick cock hits the back of your throat. It had nothing to do with the fact that you loved sucking him, the sight of his strong and hairy tights, hearing Carlos beg for your name, and how this powerful man seemed to melt in your arms because of you.

There is a sudden knock on Carlos's door, and you both seem to freeze. You look up, and Carlos gives you an urgent look, his eyes pleading for you to stay shut. "Please don't say come in," you beg mentally, but the door opens before Carlos can say anything, just with enough time to pull out of your mouth.

"Oh, I am so glad you are still here." Carlos's partner and your other boss, Jill Valentine sounds pissed. Carlos immediately pushes the chair into you, completely hiding your body, causing his dick to get close to your lips.

Jill vents about the challenging project the whole team has been working on, and for your relief, she doesn't pay enough attention to Carlos. Carlos gently tries to keep your head away from his cock, but you don't move. When he looks down in panic, you would have laughed if you could because Carlos knew exactly what was going through your mind.

When you test by licking the tip of his cock Carlos has to hold himself back against the chair, Jill still doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time swirling your tongue around it, and Carlos curses.

"Puta merda."

"Did you say something?" Jill wonders, and you hold back a laugh.

"Puta merda this project huh, Jill?"

Jill continues her rant as your head goes down into Carlos's cock, slowly and torturous. Your boss has to hold himself into the table, his knuckles turning white as a low whimper dies down in his throat. His hands look for your head, you don't know if to pull you away or push you more down, but you don't stop.

"....and I am telling you, if this doesn't get solved by the end of the week, I swear I will cancel this whole deal!"

"Puta que pariu!"

"Well, I am glad you agree with me!" Jill exclaims, slamming the table. She finally looks at Carlos, who is sweaty, his chest rising up and down as he bites his lips. 

"Carlos, are you okay? You look feverish."

"I-I am fine, Jill. All good. Just sh-sharing your frustrations, that is it."

Jill thinks she heard a strange, slurping noise after Carlos says that, but the sound stops. Her phone rings before she can ask what it is, and she groans, frustrated.

"You know, we shouldn't work this late. Life isn't just work, you know?" Jill expresses, before leaving his office, waving goodbye.

You can hear the door closing, and Carlos roughly pulls out of your mouth. You gulp, anxious, wondering if you finally took too far and Carlos will end it all, when your boss's face appears under the table to stare at you, full of desire.

"You want to play like that? Fine. Let's see how long it takes for you to gag on my cock." Carlos' voice is low and threatening, bringing chills all over your body, especially your heat.

"Challenge accepted, boss."

Puta merda = Holy shit

Puta que pariu = Holyfucking shit

[clawbehavior]

we're five episodes into Shogun, which means we're halfway through the series and all the major plotlines have been introduced and the characters characterized. and i'm starting to notice things. 

namely, toranaga is becoming increasingly unlikeable. it started when he abandoned blackthorne to die after being saved by the man hours earlier, but it reached its peak with the return of the young heir's mother and the reveal that she's using the council against toranaga to protect her son. because then what is toranaga going to war for? we were told via the dead king's widow that toranaga needs to protect the young heir against the council, but clearly that's not true. so what's he doing? it bothered me that toranaga could be so kind to the young heir, playing with him and advising him, while neglecting his own son, whose insecurity around his father was so transparent that he was easily manipulated into starting a war. but then i wondered if toranaga was showing his true self (his third heart) to his son. that scene where he says "you categorize everyone as enemies and friends when you only have yourself" implies that he sees everyone as a potential enemy, which can only happen if his self-interests are at odds with everyone else's. seeing the end of episode five, i think toranaga is not what he seems. we know he can be duplicitous. he plays uncle and nephew against each other so easily, getting rid of the problem of their growing power by doing so. i think the falcon motif that's ever present in the show represents toranaga, flying against the sun so his prey can't see him until it's too late (episode one). he's fooling everyone, including his allies, which brings me to my next point. 

mariko's story is not going to end well. i didn't know why this was a limited series with no chance of a season two until we got her backstory. mariko is straight up suicidal, just looking for a purposeful/honorable way to do it. if blackthorne can see this within days of meeting her, across a huge cultural divide and despite language differences, then toranaga has clocked this about her too, which doesn't bode well for her life. the mariko-blackthorne-husband love triangle subplot serves a deeper function of revealing her psyche to us.  she can't let go of her feelings of injustice and dishonor from her family's deaths. (the flashback we get of her past shows her father's haunted expression because that's how she remembers the event, with horror rather than disgust for his actions.) this is why she tells blackthorne the truth about her family when ordered to by her husband, even though blackthorne tells her to lie and tell him something else because her husband won't know. mariko can't let go of what happened to her family (and her husband doesn't let her). she's been spiritually dead for ages and the return of her husband from the dead not only means she cheated, which someone with her honor code can't live with, it means she cannot be happy with blackthorne. her tragic past coupled with her strong feelings towards honor/dishonor makes her easy for toranaga to use, though it's unclear for what.

interestingly, mariko and blackthornes' opposing ideologies are why they survived and found each other. mariko resists quietly, inside her soul (the eightfold fence), turning to her Christian faith and becoming devout and learned in Portuguese to speak with the priests. this is how she ends up as blackthorne's translator, a position of power and later romance. blackthorne, in contrast, resists outwardly and every step of the way. that scene where toranaga tells him to give up because he's outnumbered and blackthorne replies "unless i win" captures his character perfectly. he's going to fight until the last second, which is why he survives the journey to Japan, and why he gets separated from his men and integrated into a foreign culture, and why he steers the ship to safety rather than being left behind to die. that stubbornness to live shows up as a tendency for breaking all the rules, the result of which is meeting mariko and unintentionally getting her to fall in love with him. it's so fascinating how their ideologies have set them apart from their own people and brought them together while indicating their incompatibility. 

the show does a good job of layering characters and keeping them consistent, so i have faith that they'll return to yabushige's scary character. him torturing a sailor to death in pursuit of an existential question in a way so barbaric that it scares even the villagers did an excellent job in setting the tone of the show in episode one and setting the show apart from other historic period dramas. so it's disappointing to see him turn into a conniving goofball. hopefully this is a short term thing. 

i haven't been so intrigued by the political machinations within a show in a long while, probably since GoT. can't wait to see how the rest of it plays out 

gif below courtesy of @yocalio. look at toranaga's face shadowed in the sunlight. we don't fully know him.

[hypnotiiize]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

     𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: i wrote this mad long ago and left it. went back to read it and i was like THIS IS SOOOO CUTE so i’m gonna post it cause richarlison needs more fics. she’s Black! 

     There was a special kind of aloneness that accompanied learning a language in a land that was, in the same way, exceptionally foreign. 

Though, Richarlison supposed that he was truthfully the foreign one. There were jokes he wanted to make. Songs he wanted to reference. Food he wanted to share with someone who knew his old life just as well as he did. Instead, he was alone. Everyone around him spoke very quickly to each other, laughing as another apparent joke was made while he struggled to decipher what they were even talking about, to begin with. When they were forced to address him they would speak slowly. He would simply nod after their third time explaining something to him, finding that they were growing annoyed with him. When they would walk off he would be left to sift through the conversation he’d just had to figure out what was being asked of him. 

He was well aware that the people around him did not know how quick-witted he was in his native language. They only knew him as their new teammate who took a minute to think before speaking, carefully deliberating over his every word. Those that lacked patience would not address him some days. He understood them. Still, he grew quieter as the days passed, not wanting to speak until he had mastered the language. Until he could make jokes quickly. Laugh quickly. Think quickly.

His plan had worked for almost four weeks. He felt his chest swell in pride when his teammate invited him to a party and it only took him a few seconds to understand him. He nodded graciously. Later, as he dressed for the party, he would wonder if his nod had been from his excitement, or because he actually wanted to go to a party. Either way, he was happy. 

He found himself underneath fluorescent lights as strangers danced around him. He listened closely to their conversations, trying to learn a few more words as he nursed a drink in his hand. It was there that he heard her voice for the first time. She was speaking quickly, too, so quickly that he found himself scanning the crowd before him to find her. She was a few feet in front of him with a wide grin, shouting over the music at who he presumed was her friend. Her hair curled around her face, making it difficult to see her. He found himself leaning forward and squinting, his heart speeding up. She turned her face toward his direction and when he finally saw her, really saw her, he felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him. 

If he was home, he would waste no time going up to her and getting her number. But he wasn’t home. And she was speaking too quickly. And he could not keep up with her. So, feeling as if his heart was in his stomach, he sat back and gnawed on his bottom lip, watching her move around the club. He watched as men who actually spoke her language squandered their chances with her and only felt worse.

He was so caught up in her smiles that he did not realize it when his teammate sat down beside him. His teammate spoke to him in Portuguese, as he often opted to do whenever it was just the two of them together. He asked, first, why he was staring at the girl across the room. Then, when Richarlison said it was because he thought she was beautiful, his teammate nudged him with his elbow and told him to speak to her. Richarlison scoffed, shaking his head. He could not speak English that well, he said, and then pointed out the fact that he’d watched her reject about four different people in the last hour. His teammate laughed– the last hour? Had he really been watching her that long? Then, someone called for his teammate in that same fast-paced language he could not understand just yet. Before his teammate left he nudged him once more and encouraged him to speak to her. Richarlison just shook his head.

He had just gotten himself to stop searching for her in the crowd when he felt someone sit beside him on the velvet couch. He lowered his gaze and studied the way his drink swirled in the glass. 

“Hi,” came a familiarly high voice, the same one he had been focusing on for the majority of his time at the party. He all but snapped his neck in half to turn to the woman beside him. She smiled at him, tilting her head when he did not respond. 

“Hello,” he finally willed himself to say when she didn’t leave after his stunned silence, clearing his throat when his voice cracked slightly. 

She smiled wider. He could hear his heartbeat, and for a moment he wondered if she could, too. 

“You have an accent,” she said, only looking delighted at the revelation rather than annoyed. “Where are you from?” 

“Uh. Brazil,” he said.

She gasped, and he found that he loved the smile on her face. He wasn’t sure what he was doing that made her grin in that way, but he was hoping he could keep it up. 

“Oh! That’s so cool! How long have you been over here?”

He blinked at her as he fought to quickly understand her question– at least, he was sure it was a question from her tone. She placed her elbow on the back of the couch and crossed her legs, sitting comfortably beside him as if they were friends. 

“Some months,” he finally answered. “My English isn’t so good yet.” 

“I think it’s great,” she complimented. He felt his face go hot as he smiled, and he was sure that she could see the pink along his cheeks, too.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

She grinned. “You’re welcome. And I’m sorry if I’m all in your space right now, my shoes were hurting me. Had to sit down.”

He shook his head at once, gesturing with his hands for her to sit as he pondered what his response would be. “No, no. It’s okay. You’re fine.”

“You promise?” The corner of her mouth turned upward in a smirk. 

He laughed, his cheeks burning a bit more. “Promise.”

There was a stretch of silence in which he tried his best not to stare at her, though that was proving itself to be increasingly difficult. Her legs, crossed at her ankles, were two inches from his. If he moved a certain way– maybe even if he breathed too hard– his knee threatened to brush against hers. She was on her phone, completely unaware of the trance she’d put him in. She flipped her curls over her shoulder and typed something to someone quickly, mouthing along to the music playing. Against his better judgment, he stared at the shape of her lips. One of her tight curls lay on her lip and he thought, briefly, about telling her of the hair. He quickly nixed that idea upon realizing that he would not be able to explain why he was staring at her lips so hard. 

“You okay?” He heard her say. When he blinked himself out of his stupor, she was staring at him questioningly. 

“Yes. Thank you,” he replied, nodding curtly before turning forward. If he could separate his soul from his body to curse himself out he would. 

“Were you daydreaming?” she asked. 

“No,” he answered rather quickly, because daydreaming while staring at someone seemed a little bit too intimate for a person he’d just met. “I was…” Well, what was he doing? He glanced at her again, brown eyes flying to her curls, his saving grace.  “It’s– Your hair. It’s very nice.” Technically it was true, he had been looking at her hair. 

“Oh!” She seemed shocked by this. He could not, for the life of him, figure out why. “Thank you so much! I thought it wasn’t giving, but I’m glad someone likes it.” 

He had no clue what she was on about but he was just happy that he seemed to have made her feel better about her hair. “It’s very curly. It’s beautiful.” 

She went quiet, opting to look at him for ten extremely long seconds. He panicked internally, going over their conversation to see if he’d mistranslated anything and therefore said something awkward. Just when he reached himself telling her that his English wasn’t so good, she leaned forward and asked, “What’s your name?” 

He understood her almost instantly. “I’m Richarlison,” he said quickly.

She smiled, offering her name easily and adding, “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” He bit his bottom lip gently, brown eyes falling to her mouth once more. He had to say something before she grew bored with him, he knew. He had to utilize his scarce time with her on that couch before her friends began to wonder where she was or before someone else came to potentially ask her on a date. He sucked in a breath as he wracked his brain for something to say. However, when he did eventually speak, he did not have time to process what he uttering.

“You’re very pretty,” he’d said in one breath, his eyes widening the next moment. For some reason, she didn’t look as taken aback as he had expected her to. Instead, she was smiling. She always seemed to be smiling.

“You’re very handsome,” she simply replied. His cheeks went hot again. 

He decided that he would not say anymore. He didn’t want to come off too strong and scare her off. He didn’t want to mar the great exchange they’d had so far. He was content with only having that one conversation with the woman beside him, as long as it meant that she would only ever think of him in a positive light in the same way that he would think of her. When she thought of him, he only wanted her to think of the fact that he thought she was very pretty. When he thought of her, he would only remember the fact that she thought he was very handsome. All would be well. No hope would be lost. 

“Take my number,” she said suddenly, seemingly hearing his thoughts and disagreeing with his tactic. She held her hand out expectantly, and his brain could barely catch up to his flying hands as he fumbled to grab his phone from his back pocket. She very obviously liked talking to him. Therefore, exchanging numbers would not hurt– he hoped. Their fingers brushed as he handed his phone to her, watching as her long nails clicked against the glass of his screen protector. “Here. I’m just gonna put my name. Should I add an emoji in case you got another me in here?”

He shook his head hastily, not wanting anything to jeopardize what seemed to be great luck. “I don’t.”

“I’ll add an emoji anyway so you know it’s me, just in case. Look.” She leaned into his shoulder so that he could see his phone screen. His shoulder felt alight with the warmth of her. Her sweet-smelling hair filled the air around him and he tried his best not to make it obvious that he was reveling in the scent of her. “I’ll add a honeypot.” 

“Honey,” he mumbled and a chill went down his spine. She turned to him and nodded enthusiastically, way too close to his face when all he wanted to do was kiss her and buy her a bouquet of whichever flowers she liked. He knew that his cheeks were going red again. He asked, “Why a honeypot?” 

“Well. Why not?” was her response. 

When he felt the burning heat on his neck from blushing so hard, he turned away from her with a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Why not?” he repeated after her.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Hi!

I'm from Poland, so please forgive me any mistakes, english isn't my first language.

I was wondering if u could write something for Kylian. Like reader being a normal girl, out of spotlight, having normal job, and dating Kylian. It's still pretty early in relationship, and his family is kind of reluctant about them dating, because they are scared she is using him for money and fame, but then they see how she takes care of him maybe for example she helps him change or shower when he's injured, and they change their mind

Aimer et être aimé - K.Mbappe

Football masterlist

Pairing: Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Summary: While recovering from an injury, Kylian's family comes over for dinner. Reader, who's been caring for him, hopes to make a good impression and prove she loves him, not his money or fame.

Warnings: domestic fluff, mentions of injury and medications, Kylian being a softy

a/n: Hello and thank you for the request! Your English is perfect :) I hope you enjoy this!

* Please excuse any mistakes as I don’t speak any French and instead used my knowledge of Spanish and Portuguese (plus some research into French itself) for the French dialogue. 

Returning home from the market, you are greeted by a quiet house.

You shuffle into the kitchen with grocery bags and Kylian’s medicine in hand. Once everything is inside you make your way down the hallway and into your shared bedroom.

Opening the door just enough to peek inside, you immediately notice Kylian’s sleeping form. He’s wearing a white hoodie and grey pants and positioned just how you left him; laying on his back with his injured leg propped up on a few pillows. You also notice how his coffee colored brows were beginning to crease from the pain medication wearing off. The door closed with a click as you decided to let him get a few more minutes of sleep. Not only did his body need time to recover, but you knew he needed to be well rested by dinner time.

Returning to the kitchen you carefully and quietly put the shopping away before preparing Kylian’s meds. His family would be coming over today, and soon you would start preparing a nice homemade meal in the hopes it would help you impress them.

You enter the bedroom once again, only this time with the intention of waking him up. You make your way to the bedside and softly sit down. Not wanting to startle him as he’s still soundly asleep, you ghost your fingers over his delicate features. After a few moments, he stirs under your touch and his eyes soon flutter open.

“Good afternoon, chéri,” You giggle softly, appreciating the peaceful moment.

“Hello, mon amour,” Kylian says in a sleepy voice. He pushes up into a sitting position and takes the cup and bottle of water from you. After he takes his medication, you reach for his crutches and help him out of bed. The move to the common room is a slow but steady process. One that, like all the other habits you’d formed since the beginning of your relationship, had become second nature to you. You helped him get situated on the sofa and gathered a few throw pillows to prop his leg up in the advised position.

Now that he was settled, you left him to play video games while you entered the kitchen. You made quick work of locating the ingredients and kitchenware you needed to prepare the meal. The sounds of Fifa and his teammate's voices over the speakers filled the room as you began boiling the water for the pasta.

_

An hour later, everyone was seated at the table and having a pleasant conversation. Twirling your fork through your pasta, you tried your best to swallow your nervousness. Even though you and Kylian hadn’t been together very long, you had already met his family as you often attended his games together. However, this was the first time you were all together in a formal way. His younger brother Ethan had taken a liking to you immediately, while his older brother and parents remained cautious.

Kylian was young, rich, and one of the most famous athletes in the world. Millions of people would kill to get close to him, just for a chance at money and fame. These things didn’t influence your feelings for him at all, but you weren’t foolish. Anyone, especially those closest to him, was safe to assume you would use him for his status and break up with him once you got what you wanted. for the same reason millions of others.

“So, Kylian, has y/n been helping you?” His father asked, eyeing you both closely.

“Of course. If I’m honest, She’s always there for me when I need her even before my injury.”

“That’s wonderful.” His mother said pensively.

“It sounds like you make a good pair,” His older brother said before pausing “Assuming you’ve been supporting her too.” He nudged. Causing him and Kylian to jokingly argue with each other with Ethan quickly joining in. Their parents looked at their boys lovingly before turning back to you.

“As you can tell, we’re a close knit family. I know your relationship is still relatively new but I have to ask, do you think you’re ready to put up with us, and them, long term?” Mom asked nodding towards the three boys emersed in their playful argument.

Swallowing your sip of water, you nodded before voicing your reply.

“Of course. For as long as you’ll have me.”

-

Standing in the doorway you and Kylian bid goodbye to his family. But not before they hugged you both and promised to stop by again in the next few days. Once the door was closed and the dishes were in the sink, you let out a shaky breath and sank down onto the couch next to him. Feeling the stress of familial expectations falling from your shoulders, you were thankful that the night had gone even better than you had hoped for.

“Tired?” He questioned.

“A little bit. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Although I’d be better if I was holding you.” He teased, opening his arms wide for you. You rolled your eyes dramatically before settling against his chest.

He took the opportunity to kiss your cheek before placing his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you, ma chèrie.”

“Of course.” You replied. Your voice muffled slightly by the material of his sweatshirt.

“Not just for this. Or the meal, or for hosting my family, but for everything.” He confessed. I meant what I said earlier. I’d be lost without you and your help.”

His words caused you to shift happily in his arms. You hesitated before replying, trying to keep the butterflies in your stomach from spilling out of your mouth.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m around, isn’t it?” You grinned up at him.

"Sans l'ombre d'un doute" He hummed contently.

* Aimer et être aimé - to love and to be loved

* mon amour - my love

* ma chèrie - my dear

* sans l'ombre d'un doute - without a shadow of a doubt

[writtingforfun]

Daemon Request: Daemon secretly follows the women he fancies every time she sneaks out of the red keep.

Thank you so much for the request, sorry it took so long and I hope you like it :)

I'm sorry if there are any errors, I'm Portuguese

Daemon Targaryen x F!Blackwood!OC

Warnings: Daemon is kinda of a perv following her

I'll Follow You

Daemon Targaryen was an obsessive man, he knew that. But how could he not, when the object of his desires slipped through the corridors of the Keep?

A lady of her standing leaving the Keep every night to wander the streets of King's Landing. If the wrong person was to see that... she would be ruined.

He was hooked from the first time he saw her, bright blue eyes and black hair like the night sky.

"I'm only keeping an eye on the Lady" he convinced himself every night before entering the hidden tunnels that led to her hall.

It started out as a coincidence, it did. The first night he was walking towards the brothel when he noticed her. The day after that, he was walking to the library when he saw a hooded figure (that turned out to be more beautiful than murderous) walking in the shadows.

For 5 days he has followed her; he watches her every step, her every move and everyone that dares to look at her.

It's past the hour of the owl and no sign of her today. Daemon paces and paces, prays to whatever God will listen to him to allow the Lady to wander once again. Perhaps he is not as disliked by the Gods as he thinks, because soon he is watching her make her way to the exit of the Keep.

He enters a sort of trance. He keeps his distance but never takes his eyes off of her, watching her like the dragon he is. Heat fills him when she finally has the courage to enter one of the busiest brothels in the Street of Silk. It excites him to think she no longer stops at the door and walks away, tonight she enters with the hood on her head keep her identity hidden. Yet, a strange feeling makes its way to his chest - it tightens as he wonders what she could possibly want. Surely she would not ruin her reputation, she is perhaps one of the most pious ladies he has ever met.

"My Prince", one of the whores of the establishment approaches him, batting her eyelashes at him as if he is so easy to fall for the charms of such woman.

"Get off" he states simply, discarding the woman and walking towards the depts of the place.

Daemon leans against the wall, his own hood still somewhat concealing his identity, watching the Lady he had followed. Her eyes were wide, lips parted as she watched the orgy in front of her. He followed with his eyes as took a grabbed her dress with her fist, squeezing it so tight he could see her knuckles turning white even the dim light.

He laughed lowly, eyes watching her like a prey.

The high pitched moans echoed around the room, but she could only hear her heart pounding in her chest. "What am I doing?" she asked herself, looking down to the floor in shame. It had taken a whole lot of courage to finally get inside. Every time she tried, her cheeks turned red, her heart rate increased and her leg started to shake. Today, she had hoped to finally put away the question of what fucking is.

It was the hot breath on her neck that made her almost jump in her place, fear freezing her body.

"This is hardly the place for a noble Lady"

She knew that voice... Oh, how she knew that voice, sweet like honey and aggressive like a dragon. She was dazed for a second, relinquishing in the feeling. As his broad chest was firmly against her back, she jumped of her place, his hands landing on her hips to keep her still.

"Shh" he cooed "calm down"

"My- my prince" she tripped over her words, unsure of what to say. She was ruined. She finally ruined herself, she should have listened to her mother.

"My Lady" he whispered in her ear "what brings you to such delightful place?"

"I-" she took a deep breath and opened her mouth again "you cannot tell my parents!" she practically screamed.

The Rogue Prince simply laughed when she covered her mouth with hand. He finally turned her around to see her face, both without their hoods covering them. He looked her up and down and noticed her cheeks were turning red, he lowered his gaze and noticed her bosom also turning red. He smirked as he turned around to leave.

Confusion hit the young woman, would he leave her here? Would he tell everyone? He had a reputation, but surely he would not be so cruel to leave her to wonder what he would do... Would he?

"Are you coming or staying?"

She moved quickly, closing the distance between them in a few steps. The whole walk back to the Keep was silent. It was the most painful thing she had ever had to endure.

They stopped in front of her chambers. She couldn't look him in the eyes, but wanted to say something. But what?

His fingers touched her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow for your daily stroll" he said as he laid a kiss on her cheek and walked away.

When she laid in bed that night, dreams hunted her. She woke up sweating, his last comment replaying in her head over and over again. He was watching her. He was watching every time she walked out of the Keep and she never noticed.

It should terrify her, and it did partly, but it excited her more. She was foolish. He was the Rogue Prince for a reason. He fucked his whores and took maidenheads of the Ladies of the Keep, never to see them again. He was surely just using her. Yet, warmth filled her chest and between her legs. She couldn't understand such warmth, but she could only hope that he would lit the fire inside of her.

Let me know if you like it or if you want part 2!

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad Activity Report

Part 9

12/18 (Fri) Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, this is Takeba. Today is already the fifth day of the exam. Toriumi-sensei, please stop asking questions based on random conversations that went off topic during class... Well, I remembered it for now. The one that doesn't have Portuguese origins is number 4, "saboru," right?

But isn't saboru a Japanese word?

12/19 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. Yukari, "saboru" is derived from the English word "sabotage". It has been turned into Japanese, but since it was originally a foreign word, only "sabo" is written in katakana.

Well, the second semester final exams are over, and winter vacation is just around the corner. The day of the decision, New Year's Eve, is fast approaching, but before that, Christmas is also coming up.

…Well, I do feel that it may be a little inappropriate, but we have decided to spend the day as usual. Rather than being afraid of the terror of Nyx, I want everyone to enjoy themselves while they can. That's what I think.

12/20 (Sun) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi. Following Kirijo-senpai's advice to "do things as usual," I decorated the reception counter with a Christmas tree today. Let's have some fun while we're here. ...I was just thinking, if we decorate the whole school, will Tartarus also look like it's Christmas?

12/21 (Mon) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

The exam results were announced today. Well, as I said in the lounge, you don't need to worry too much about the results of this exam. Let's clear our heads and prepare for the next step tomorrow. ...But should I mention Junpei's grades? They're still not great, but they're better than before. Well done.

12/22 (Tue) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, Junpei here.

Whoa! Sanada-san praised me! Hey, what should I do? What should I do?! I'm too flustered. You're so lucky, Sanada-san. I'm sure you'll be in high demand, and you'll have no shortage of girls to spend time with, but it's Christmas after all! And Sanada-san is just as natural as that, so even if he gets invited out, he won't even notice and just turn it down.

Ah, what a waste! Damn it, I'm not going to let Sanada-san get away with it! Anyway, if there's anyone among the beauties around you who's free, please introduce me to them.

12/23 (Wed) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Tomorrow is finally Christmas Eve. Do you all have any plans? I'm sure there won't be any parties in the dorms, right? Well, this year, everyone will have fun in their own way. But next year, let's all make plans and have a party together. Okay?

12/24 (Thu) - Reporter: Ken Amada

Today I stopped by Paulownia Mall on my way home from school, and it was completely Christmas-colored. Well, actually, white, red, and green are Christmas colors, so I guess it's the "Three Colors of Christmas". But it was really beautiful. The illuminations were shining all over the mall... Now that I think about it... I saw a guy with a hairstyle that looked like the leader there, but I wonder if it was him? But he was with a woman...

I guess it's better to say nothing, right? Oh well. It doesn't concern me.

Anyway, Merry Christmas.

But today is still the 24th, so it's Merry Christmas Eve.

12/25 (Fri) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

Well, it's true that yesterday was Christmas Eve and today is Christmas, but Christmas Eve feels more exciting. I wonder why?

Anyway, Christmas is over, and winter vacation starts the day after tomorrow. And soon it's New Year's Eve. What should we decide?

12/26 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

As Yamagishi said, the day of the decision is near. However, everyone should already have their answer. Now it's up to the leader to decide.

By the way, yesterday and the day before yesterday, we received a report that there was a suspicious woman wearing a giant ribbon in front of the dorms... does anyone have any idea who she was?

12/27 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hey there, it's Junpei!

The Ribbon Woman... Hmm, given the current situation, isn't she a Sanada fanatic or something?

More importantly, the winter holidays are just beginning! It's been cold lately, so everyone, be careful not to catch a cold. Oh, by the way, I'm thinking about getting a Kadomatsu decoration for the New Year...but where can I buy one?

12/28 (Mon) Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Junpei, what happened? Something's wrong.

Ah, you're a considerate person, aren't you? Well, being able to pay attention to your surroundings is the first step to becoming a good man. By the way, I think you can probably find Kadomatsu at a hardware store or something like that. So, this was Takeba, an expert on family matters.

12/29 (Tue) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

They say that talking about next year makes the devil laugh, but when it comes to you guys, the devil will die laughing. It seems like you've made up your mind. I'll leave the final decision to the leader, but please take our feelings into consideration. I'm counting on you.

Oh yeah, you should say hello to Mr. Kurosawa and the owner of Kosaido, who have helped you so much, by today or tomorrow.

12/30 (Wed) - Reporter: Aigis

I have returned. To this place again... Speaking with you all today, I feel like I have finally found the reason why I am here. I will no longer waver. Wherever you go, is where I go. And your enemy is... my enemy. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. Make a decision you will not regret.

12/31 (Thu) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

The Dark Hour just ended, and the date changed. It's already New Year's Day 2010. Happy New Year... Happy New Year. Hehe, the TV countdown will end, and it will be a few hours until the actual New Year... The Dark Hour really is troublesome. Right now, I am making this report with my memories of last year. In other words, that was the result of my decision.

Even though he was the incarnation of the hated Nyx, I'm relieved that I didn't have to kill that Mochizuki... Have I mellowed out, or is he special? Either way, I'll accept his last words at face value. I have to make this a good year...

1/1 (Fri) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Happy New Year! I'm Junpei Iori! I'm broadcasting this in a louder voice than usual!

Oh, I'm glad. Kirijo-senpai, Yukari-chan, Aigis, and Fuuka all wear formal attire, which is a traditional Japanese beauty. And when they're not even wearing them, how can you not get excited? Well, I also went to Tartarus for the first time in this year. And I defeated my first shadow, found my first treasure chest, had my first rare item escape me, and was chased by my first Reaper. It's the same as always. Ah, but Tartarus' new area is a completely white space, so it feels a little different. Maybe this time we're close to the top?

1/2 (Sat) - Reporter: Ken Amada

The city has become a mess. It seems that a strange cult held a meeting on the night of New Year's Day... According to Junpei, the area in front of Iwatodai Station was covered in graffiti with flyers and strange markings, and it was a complete mess.

I think it's Nyx's influence, but maybe humans are more frightening...

<-PREVIOUS●NEXT->

Tag List: @kerto-p

[demonslayedher]

Nezuko's Favorite: Konpeitou

It's time for Kimetsu Kitchen, and over-analyzing a tiny lore detail! And by tiny, I mean 1.5cm or smaller.

As already stated in the first fanbook, Tanjiro reminds us the Yuukaku Arc Taisho Secrets that Nezuko's favorite food is humans konpeitou, colorful tiny candies that are made almost entirely out of sugar. They are best known for their signature shape, with a bunch of bumps called "tsuno," that is... horns.

Aha, I see what you did there, Gotouge. So in that light, I'm not going to hold back wherever I see connections to Nezuko. First off, like Nezuko, konpeitou also comes in many fun sizes. Because of how the horns are formed with the candies bumping into each other and dripping onto the biggest protrusions, the candies have fewer and fewer horns as they get bigger.

We'll get into how they are made is a second, but first a brief history. Konpeitou, like castella and tempura, were introduced to Japan in the Sengoku period by the Portuguese missionaries. Warlord Oda Nobunaga was even presented with some earlier versions of this "confeit" that had anise at its core for a refreshing finish. However, after the missionaries were kicked out, they disappeared for a time, until Edo-period townspeople in Nagasaki (with access to trading with the Dutch) developed a pan-fried version, which they named 金平糖 (gold-even-sugar). Konpeitou were a rare treat accessible only the rich and powerful, such has the emperor using it for special occasions, until a new and easier method with rotating frying pans was patented in 1903. This was already 36 years into the Meiji period, and Nezuko would had been a toddler.

The first konpeitou factory opened in 1907 in Osaka, which is when they really took off as a wide-spread treat, including being sent abroad in soldiers' rations. The first ones were not flavored, they were purely made of granular sugar and sugar syrup (a mix of sugar and water, so yay, more sugar!), and they came in four different sizes. However, the first variations came when they made a mix of four basic colors to reflect the seasons: pink for cherry blossoms in spring, green for summer greenery, yellow for the autumn leaves, and white for winter snow.

(The closest example I saw to the colors Nezuko might had had available, don't mind those orange ones.)

Throughout the Taisho period they gradually gave way to more popular sweets like ice cream and chocolates, but when Nezuko was a 12-year-old likely around 1912~1913, these would had been widely available and popular.

So how are they made today? Still mostly in Osaka, there's only about 10 factories in Japan that produce them. But only about 5 in Portugal that do, so no wonder people assume they are a Japanese invention! Although you can still find them as purely sugar-flavored and some cafes likes to use them instead of sugar or sugar cubes, you can find them in a very wide variety of colors and flavors now. Basically, if it can be dissolved into syrup, you can color or flavor konpeitou with it.

Konpeitou starts with granular sugar, turned twice a minute in tilted frying pans that are 180cm across at 75 degress C. Every few minutes it gets coated with a scrap of syrup, which gradually makes the candy grow bigger and bigger. It sounds like a simple process, but it takes a lot of patience and practice to get the precise humidity, temperature, timing, and movement to attain a translucent appearance and smooth texture with a pleasing array of horns.

If there is one character in KnY who is extremely patient and can pour that sort of effort into developing something, it's Nezuko. Konpeitou grow only 1mm per day (so it takes two weeks to make a batch of large konpeitou), but that ongoing, dedicated growth is very auspicious, like... hmm. Like what the asanoha pattern on Nezuko's kimono symbolizes. I've always assumed the vines in Nezuko's demon crest symbolized the same thing.

Alright, now to turn this into a Kimetsu Kitchen blog. If you are in Osaka prefecture, you too can join a very brief konpeitou making class to add the finishing touches to a little batch of mostly-finished konpeitou! You get to choose the flavors and colors, and for extra money, you can even add edible gold flakes or get cute jars to put them in. I got to make two batches, one based on the color and flavor already in the first batch. I was concerned out pink and green might mix, so I went with pink followed by yellow for a nice nod to Zenitsu's efforts in Kimetsu Academy to give her the perfect konpeitou. However, I wound up with a nice shade of peachy orange like her hair, and I'm sure Zenitsu doesn't mind.

I call the flavor "drink bar" because I thought a non-pick flavor like melon would be ironic and I wound up with a mix of melon and cola. It's pretty good.

The base konpeitou was purely sugar flavored and white, but with tiny ladles of syrup with food coloring and flavor added and stirred about ten seconds at a time, the shape also gradually changed as the horns got more pronounced. It really is up to taste how little or how much you want to add, they're very versatile once the basics are formed.