#repeating in my head over and over WHAT IF THEY HAD BABIES WHAT IF THEY HAD BA

[inkedinshadows]

First of all congratulations for 1000 followers 🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉 it’s honestly amazing and you deserve all the best❤️❤️❤️ also happy new year 🎆🎆🎆 secondly, all the prompts are super good it, I had such a hard time choosing from them cause they that are all amazing, anyway I think 19, 20 and 21 just fit together perfectly for an angsty Azriel fic.

Broken Vows

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you so much anon, you're the sweetest! <33 And happy new year one month too late oopsie 🤭

Prompts: "I trusted you." + "Don't leave me now. Please. I still need you." + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: Az is not the best partner here (I promise he didn't cheat)

Word count: 1.3k

It must be a dream. A nightmare.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't real. It couldn't be. You refused to believe it.

Azriel was still talking, but you weren't listening anymore. His words blurred together in your mind, yet his first few sentences remained sharp, playing over and over in your head.

I've found my mate.

You had never been the jealous type, so it hadn't bothered you when he began spending more and more time with Madja’s new apprentice. It had started as small talk after her visits and you usually lingered too. Talya seemed nice enough—quiet and reserved yet friendly.

You hadn't questioned it when Azriel started visiting the apothecary for even the slightest headache. But then those visits became too frequent. He went there even when both of you felt perfectly fine.

You should have realized something was off when Azriel became distant. The signs had been there. You had just been too blind to see them.

But the problem wasn't that he had found his mate, was it?

I want to be with her.

A few simple words, and the whole world collapsed around you.

“Baby, please, just look at me.” His voice finally cut through your thoughts. “I know this is hard to hear, but let me—”

“You promised,” you interrupted him. Your eyes met his from where he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Baby…” he began, but you cut him off again.

“You promised,” you repeated, your voice rising as tears pricked your eyes. “You promised!”

Guilt flashed across Azriel's face, and he at least had the decency to remain silent as you pressed on.

“You said you'd reject your mate for me, Az,” you blurted out. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “It was in your wedding vows, for gods’ sake!”

Azriel shook his head. “It's not that simple. I don't—”

“Isn't it?” you interrupted again. “Because it seems simple enough to me. You just reject the bond, like I did.”

His expression immediately hardened. “I don't want to reject the bond. If you would only let—”

“Why wouldn't you want to reject it?” you demanded.

“Because she's my mate!”

“And I'm your wife!”

For a moment, you just glared at each other. His shadows swarmed nervously around his wings, but then his shoulders slumped and his expression softened slightly.

“Can you let me explain?” he asked, studying you. “Please.”

With a sigh, you wiped your cheeks before crossing your arms over your chest. You simply looked at him, waiting.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” he said softly.

“I don't see how that is going—”

Azriel stopped you mid-sentence. “Let me finish? Please?”

You rolled your eyes but gestured for him to continue. Listening to him was the last thing you wanted right now, but maybe he was going to surprise you. Maybe he was going to say it was all just a joke, a prank, and you'd be mad, but it would be fine.

You were grasping at straws, and you knew it.

“I still want to be with you,” Azriel said. He shot you a sharp look when you opened your mouth, and you sank back against the couch to let him continue. “But I also want to explore this bond with her.”

You scoffed. “So what? You think you can have both of us?” You shook your head, something vicious twisting in your gut. “That's not going to work, Azriel.”

You rose from your seat to head upstairs. You needed time to think, to figure out what to do. If you stayed, you would only get angrier. You had already cried and had no desire to do it again. But if you left, maybe you could spare yourself the fury.

Though the pain—the ache in your heart—could not be avoided, no matter what you did.

“Talya said that she understands the situation and she'd be willing to—”

You froze on the spot. Azriel must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes dropped to your clenched fists as you turned back to face him.

Your restraint was gone. You wouldn't hold back now.

“You talked to her before you talked to me?” you seethed.

“Well, I…” Azriel seemed to be grasping for words. “She's my mate,” he repeated, as if that was explanation enough.

“And I'm your wife!” You threw your hands up. “I have been for the last two centuries!”

“I'm sorry, baby, but I—”

“Don't you ‘baby’ me, Azriel!”

He lowered his gaze, but you were too upset to care about the hurt look in his eyes. It was nowhere close to the heartache he was causing you.

“You know why I never worried about you finding your mate?” you asked. He looked up at you, but even if he had planned on saying something, you didn't give him time. “Because you promised you'd choose me. You promised you would reject the bond. And I believed it, believed you. I trusted you.”

You were well aware of what rejecting a mating bond felt like, how difficult it could be to deal with. Even without feelings involved, even knowing that you and your mate wouldn't have been a good match, it had still taken you two weeks to feel whole again. But Azriel had been there, filling the empty spot where your bond had been with his love.

You had never regretted your choice. You never had a reason to.

“And now I find out that not only did you spend time with her knowing she was your mate,” you went on, “but that you also want to be with her?”

Azriel’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “I told you I want to be with you too, didn’t I?”

“Mother above, Azriel,” you snapped. “You think that makes me feel better? I trusted you, but you didn't even try.”

You had fought before. After two hundred years together, arguments were inevitable. But you usually talked it out and reconciled after a few hours—a day at worst. Maybe that was why Azriel didn't look particularly concerned.

Until you slipped the wedding band off your finger and tossed it onto the couch beside him.

His eyes widened in shock, and his usually restless shadows stilled behind him. You both stared at the ring, the silence stretching as your anger faded, leaving behind only a broken heart.

“You can't have your cake and eat it too, Az,” you finally said, your voice calmer now, resigned.

You turned on your heel again.

“I'm leaving,” you announced, already walking toward the stairs. You could go stay with your parents. They would welcome you without pressing for an explanation.

Azriel snapped out of his stupor and stood, reaching for you.

“Don’t leave me now. Please. I still need you.” His fingers closed around your wrist. “I still love you.”

You yanked your arm free, but didn't turn to face him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you bit out, “You should have loved me enough not to pursue your mate. You promised.”

He tried to stop you again, his shadows swirling around your legs as if to keep you from walking away from their master.

“Baby, that's not—”

You turned back one last time. Tears lined your eyes and your voice broke on the words. “I should have been enough, Azriel.”

You didn't wait to hear his response. You didn't try to go upstairs to pack some clothes.

Unable to stomach his presence any longer, you winnowed away.

a/n: technically, this is the end. I wanted to leave it open and hanging, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am a sucker for happy endings so I might write a part 2 bc I already have an idea :))

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

—characters: oliver, shidou, sae.

—cw: fem!reader, fingering, pearl necklace, overstimulation, finger sucking, not proofread.

—a/n: i need lobotomy. you do too if you're reading this shit.

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

oliver's hands are thick and has arms full of veins. he is not exactly a workout freak but he does fair amount of sets during practice resulting in his amazing physique. his fingers are girthy and he has amazing control over them.

oliver likes to spend his time with his fingers up your pussy, stretching your hole with his thick digits. he loves the feeling of your wetness dripping down his knuckles as he pumps them inside you.

"nasty little pussy. always so greedy, right, babe?" he whispers against your ears. "gimme one more and i promise i'll put my cock in then." you know he's lying. you've already came thrice and he's been repeating the same damn thing but won't stop fingering you. you can feel his erection poking your lower back, your pussy fluttering and craving more. too bad. aiku will only pull his fingers out when he wants to and not when you want to.

"oli...ngh—gunna cum," you mewl as your body tightens.

"let go, baby. 'm right here. cum on my fingers, yeah?" and you do, legs shivering as they close up, trapping his arms in place. when you calm down. aiku gives you peck on your head and you finally think he's gonna put it in. finally. "let's see if you can take four fingers." fucking hell.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

shidou's hands are very veiny even when he is not flexing his muscles. but i doubt this man is ever relaxed because he is on adrenaline 24x7. his skin is glowing with melanin so each nerve is visible. he works out a lot. well his workout is divided in two sections. gym and good old sex.

ryu's favorite thing to do with his hands are massage your tits. massage would be and understatement 'cause this man is full on groping, pinching and abusing them. your poor nipples are always sore when he is done with you. don't get me wrong. he loves to suck on them too. but something about fondling them while thrusting in you gets him off so much. even more lovely when he spits on them and smears them with his thumb.

"got such a sexy set on ya, babe. fhuuuck. gonna make me shoot a load just with this. ya won' mind if i slap them yeah?"

*slap*

you hiss at the sensation. "shit. did my pretty pussy just clenched? fucking hell. ah! my balls are tightening," he moans. you think he's gonna cum inside you but shidou pulls out faster than a lightning, his veiny hands tightening and stroking his cock as he aims for your tits. and just in a second, he is shooting thick translucent ropes all over them. he takes his palm and spread his cum all over your tits. "fuck. jus' like a glazed donut." he takes a lick. "best fucking donut ever."

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

given sae's slender yet washboard ab physique, his hands are long. not full of veins but his knuckles are very visible and it's so hot. his veins show when he is working out, pissed or...horny. sae didn't know he had attractive hands and he was dating a person who has a hand kink. what he did know was you loved to always suckle on his thumb when his palm rests on your jaw while dry humping you. so sae tries to push it further this time.

you're sitting and reading a book on the couch before sae's shadow towers over you. you shoot your head up, looking at him with confused eyes. he scans your face for a minute before speaking.

"open," he commands. you're not sure at first what he means but the way his green eyes are fixated on your mouth, your jaw instinctively follows his command like a servant. before you can grasp the situation, sae's middle and ring finger are already in your mouth. he let's you suckle on them for a few seconds and he's quick to start thrusting them. he might have just discovered that you have a hand kink is pretty convenient for him too 'cause the boner he popped might be the fastest ever.

"i am fucked," is all he says before thrusting his digits deeper, his other hand palming his cock through his gray sweats. his biceps buldge out and his veins pop when he fists his dick so you deliver the most appropriate reaction. a moan and a whimper that vibrate around his fingers sending shivers in his body. he's right. he is fucked. and so are you.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Single Dad!Price with Nanny!Reader 🐰🎀 (🌽 Link)

Single Dad!Price is usually all over the place trying to take care of work and his two baby girls so when you volunteered to accompany the girls to their annual school book fair John was beyond ecstatic having one more thing off this plate. 

Morning of the book fair, John’s girls were dressed like fairy princesses with the help of you doing their hair and makeup, laughing along with them and kissing the tops of their heads as the three of you were getting ready together. 

John doesn’t interfere, deciding to watch from the comfort of the doorway as you acted like the mother they never had, a better mother than John’s ex-wife could ever be. His mind becomes buzzed filled with scenarios of you and him, taking care of the kids and being a perfect happy family. 

He pictures you in his worn-out t-shirt in the kitchen making pancakes for the girls with a soft smile on your face. John comes up behind you, pressing himself against you back as she presses soft kisses along the side of your neck as you giggle pulling away from it playful touches reminding him that his girls are watching the both of you. John’ll huff reluctantly pulling away, standing by your side as he helps you with breakfast. 

With an hour or two to spare after the girls have gone to school, John will coax you onto the couch to spend time with him before he goes to work, slowly tracing every part of your body before kissing you senselessly. 

His daydreaming comes to a screeching halt as you bring him back to his senses announcing that you’ll be taking his precious girls to school. John runs a hand through his hair and simply nods, unable to say anything as the shame of fantasising about his nanny begins to kick him in the arse. And it surely doesn’t help when you sweetly call him ‘Mr Price.’ 

What John didn’t expect to ever imagine about was what happened after you came home. Not only did you buy John’s daughter’s princess costumes but you also happened to buy yourself an outfit too, a cute bunny get up with shorts and a tank top. John couldn’t help it, it’s not like he wanted to intrude, the door was already open a jar and he simply peaked inside to see if you were okay. He did it out of concern of your safety and what he was doing right now was also for your betterment. 

Now, he’s no barbaric man but what he is is an absolute manipulative bastard. ‘Accidently’ walking in on you while you check yourself out causing you to shy away and as you try to cover yourself up while John gives you a half-hearted apology shamelessly checking you out.

No doubt there was already underlying tension between the two of you, stolen glances, compliments with sexual innuendo and all he needs to do is to be the bigger man and address the heavy atmosphere between the two of you leading to you shamelessly fucking yourself on his cock as he pummels inside of you from underneath all while repeating the same four words over and over again as John tries to manifest his life with you from that moment.

“My pretty bunny wife.” 

[beah388love]

Dyslexia Problems

Full Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you and Lando both have dyslexia

Warnings: swearing, dyslexia (if I’ve missed any please tell me!!)

You had gone golf with Lando and max for the day and they had randomly decided to go live on twitch. You was sat in the cart trying to cover your phone from the sun so you could read your text out but you huffed when all the letters were jumbled because of your dyslexia. “Lan? Is this spelt right?” You asked as you looked up to him as he held the camera.

He held his hand out and read your text but shook his head with furrowed brows when the letters were also jumbled from his dyslexia too. “Chat how do you spell neighbour?” Lando asked and looked at the chat to see the word repeated, some in caps.

“Okayyyyy thank you guys” Lando said with a little laugh as he typed the letters in on your phone and let you hit send.

“Thank you chat!” You said louder so they could hear you whilst max took his shot.

That was not all though….

Stupidly max asked you to read the subs out on the camera “thanks…uh- daivid? And thanks…kivy? For the subs” you smiled as you positioned the camera to look at max and Lando who were having a little play fight ending in Lando trying to poke max’s ass with the golf club and max running away with his hand covering his ass.

“Idiots” you shook your head behind the camera.

Chat:

User1: LMAOOOO THEIR SO FUNNY

User2: not y/n calling everyone the wrong name 😭

User3: ITS VICKY NOT KIVY 😭💀

User4: is she stupid?

User5: she’s dyslexic bro

You knotted your brows as you read the comments, “omg! Guys have I been calling you the wrong names?! I’m so sorry!” You gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth when you realised what the chat was talking about.

“Max! You take the camera! I suck at this job” you said dragging a hand down your face, “what are you talking about?” Max asked confused as he took the camera off of you.

“I can’t read the chat or their names…sorry guys” you said with an embarrassed smile “dyslexia?” Max grinned and you nodded “alright baby your turn!” Lando said as he handed you your golf ball.

“Thank you baby” you smiled as you took the ball from him.

“Y/n has really bad dyslexia guys” max explained as he read through some of the comments. “Yeah she hates it” Lando agreed with a nod of his head.

“You have dyslexia though” max pouted confused on why you hated it so much “yeah but hers is worse than mine and she loves reading but she has to use the text to speech thingy” Lando explained and max nodded “yeah she hates it” Lando gave a tight lipped smile but smiled when you walked over, he instantly wrapped a hand around your waist.

“Also chat- I didn’t wanna play this stupid game-“ I murmur to the camera but got cut off by Max “it’s a sport not a game” he corrected me for the 100th time.

I roll my eyes to the camera. “It’s a game.” I whisper to the camera making lando stifle a laugh.

……

This also occurred on streams…for example the time when Max was streaming with you and Lando.

You had somehow been given the job of calling out and thanking the subs..again.

“Thank you…uh- poopy?” I tilt my head and scrunch my brows as I read the username out and gasp when I read it again “sorry-! Sorry- I meant poppy..! Thanks poppy for the subs” I correct myself embarrassed

I hear lando’s laugh behind me as I’m sat on his lap, “Lan. it’s not funny-“ I roll my eyes playfully but he can’t help his laughs.

“Babe- you called her poopy?-“ he wheezes out whilst laughing, hiding his face in my hair from the stream. I shake my head smiling “I didn’t mean to!” I cover my face embarrassed.

Max is trying to bite back his laughs as he tries to focus on a game. He looks to the comments and bursts out laughing at all the jokingly offended fans.

I feel Lando squeeze his hold on my waist slightly “babe?” He whispers into my ear and I hum “mh?”

“Want your coloured slip thingys?” He asks quietly and I shake my head “no it’s fine..can you just read the subs out?” I ask and he nods “yeah.”

He continued to read the subs after that. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the twitter posts the next morning…they did make me laugh.

…

Your dyslexia would also affect your texts…which were also pretty funny-

Lando was sat on the sofa at your shared apartment. max was also there but he was on the other sofa. Lando scrolled through instagram bored until he got a text from you.

Lando tried to read it and sighed, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He rubbed his forehead and looked up when max chuckled “what?” Lando asks

Max laughed “has y/n texted you?”

Lando nods “yeah- how’d you know?” He smiled confused

Max chuckled “cuz you look like your trying to read a different language” Lando laughed shaking his head

“Here you try and understand what she texted me.” Lando chuckled and handed his phone to max.

Y/N: Can yuo garb me smoe ciream?

Max knotted his brows as he tried to read it “fucking hell mate- how do her eyes make her think that’s right?”

Lando chuckled “don’t ask me.” He said as he took his phone back and texted back.

Lando: babe. I just had a headache trying to read that.

Y/N: gbra em some icremea?

Lando: it still ain’t spelt right babe.

Y/N: seriosly?

Lando: just call me. I cant keep trying to read this.

Max Fewtrell added to his story

Landonorris: I acc have a migraine after texting her.

Ynusername: blame my dyslexia not me ✋🏻

McLaren: you think her texts are bad..we have to deal with her emails!

User1: LMAO NOT MCLAREN CALLING HER OUT

User2: I WANNA SEE EM NOW 😭

Lewishamilton: relatable.

Ynusername: hey! Give me a break.

User3: how r her replies making sense if her texts don’t?

Landonorris: y/n uses autocorrect and speech to text to help her

Ynusername: idk what id do without it 😔✋🏻

…

This would also cause problems between her and her radio engineer, Fred.

“Freddie?” I ask into the radio as I hold the steering wheel tightly, going around a corner on the track.

“Yeah y/n?” He responds through the radio

“There’s something wrong with the uh- screen thingy-“ I say and Fred furrows his brows

“Uh- ya sure..? I’m looking now and it looks fine?” He asks confused

“It says I’m going at 013mph?” I ask confused as I ready screen on the car.

I hear Fred’s small chuckle through the radio “y/n- it’s your dyslexia. It says 103mph” he explains and I can’t help my embarrassed smile under my helmet

“Oh- I forgot about that. Thanks Freddo.” I giggle through the radio.

Fred chuckled “it’s fine. The cars fine though right?”

“Yeah- it’s fine. Just my dyslexia.” I giggle

I do another turn and sigh “Fred- what’s the gap?” I ask confused

Fred looks down at his screen “uh- Max is…0.845 seconds behind.” He reads and I nod

“Okay” I say as I try to remember the track in my head. I go to turn right but quickly swerve left.

“Shit- fuck- oops-“ I curse under my breath and I hear Fred through the radio

“What happened-?”

“I uh- I just forgot my left and right but it’s fine-“ I giggle quietly “sorry.”

Fred can’t help his laugh “don’t worry- just try to remember next time yeah?”

…

Or another struggle for you and Lando was cooking…

Lando was streaming whilst you and him baked or shall I say tried to bake a cake.

Lando was leaning against the counter, holding his phone with the recipe on it “uh- babe? I think we need help.” He says with knotted brows.

You look over to him “what? Why?”

Lando tuts as he tries to read the ingredients “I can’t make it out.”

You roll your eyes “lemme try” Lando scoffs lightly “okay- but I highly doubt you’ll be better than me.”

You try to read the ingredients and instructions but it’s all jumbled and messy “uh…never mind then.”

Lando chuckles and looks to the camera “guess we’re having pasta tonight chat.”

You giggle and nod “yup! Pasta it is.” You say as you grab different ingredients.

…

Lando, you and Oscar were doing an F1 game interview thingy for fun.

The interviewer had given you all your own white board. The game was that Oscar would have to guess the word that you and Lando got.

The interviewer smiles “okay- start.”

Lando and you look to the word on your boards. Lando tilted his head confused “uh…”

You also knotted your brows confused as you looked at the messy word. “Uh…lan? What does it say?” You whisper.

Lando chuckles “no idea..”

Oscar shakes his head amused “how the hell do I guess if you don’t know the word?”

Lando laughs lightly “uh- I think maybe you should do the word and me and y/n guess it.”

The interviewer giggles and nods “okay- switch if it’s easier”

Lando and you switch. Oscar chuckles “this is why we never let you two team up. You guys are awful together”

Lando nods with a laugh “two dyslexics.”

You giggle and nod “perfect match” you joke

[mapis-putellas]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅/𝑽.𝑴𝒊𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂

Just a little something for my Vivi <3

Viv hadn’t told you she was sick. You had to hear it from Jill, who casually dropped it into conversation like it wasn’t something that would make your heart clench with worry.

“Yeah, she’s been looking awful all day,” Jill had said over the phone. “Coughing, sniffling. Honestly, I don’t even know how she made it through training.”

Your grip on your phone had tightened. “She trained?”

Jill snorted. “Of course she did. You know what she’s like.”

You did. Stubborn. Independent. Unwilling to admit when she needed help. It was just your Vivi, and whilst you were used to it, it definitely didn’t mean you liked it.

“She didn’t tell me,” you muttered, feeling a little annoyed now.

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Jill said, voice softer. “But she looks miserable.”

That was all you needed to hear.

You booked a flight that night.

*

Viv was exhausted. Training had been brutal, and she felt like absolute shit. Her whole body ached, her sinuses were a mess, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed glass. Still, she’d forced herself through the day, unwilling to let something as minor as a cold slow her down. But all she wanted now was to collapse into bed and preferably sleep for the next twelve hours.

What she didn’t expect was to find you there, sitting cross-legged on her bed, arms folded across your chest looking less than happy.

She froze in the doorway, blinking in surprise. “…Liefje?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hi, baby.”

Her brain struggled to process the sight of you. You were supposed to be in Manchester. Not in her hotel room. Not staring at her like she’d just been caught committing a crime. Which, in a way, she supposed she had.

“You’re here,” she said, dumbly.

“I am,” you agreed, tilting your head. “You, on the other hand, should not have been at training today.”

Viv swallowed. “Ah.”

“Ah?” you repeated, unimpressed. “That’s all you have to say?”

Viv shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

You sighed, standing up and making your way over to her. Up close, she looked even worse. Her face was pale, cheeks flushed with fever, and her eyes were glassy behind her glasses. You reached out, pressing the back of your hand to her forehead.

“Vivianne,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “You’re burning up.”

She leaned into your touch without thinking, her shoulders sagging.

“You should’ve told me,” you said, threading your fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. “Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed again, but you didn’t argue. This was just how Viv was. Stubborn to a fault.

“You hungry?” you asked instead, nudging her toward the bed.

She shook her head. “Just tired.”

You guided her to sit down before kneeling to untie her shoes. She protested weakly, but you ignored her, pulling them off and then stripping off her socks too.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, watching you with tired eyes.

“I know.” You pulled her legs onto the bed, tucking them under the covers before crawling in beside her. “But I want to.”

Viv exhaled, shifting so she could rest her head against your chest. “I missed you.” She murmured, throwing an arm around your waist.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head as you gently pulled off her glasses, placing them on the night stand closest to you. “I missed you too, baby.”

Her arms tightened around you, and she buried her face in your neck with a little sigh “Mijn liefje,” she mumbled.

Your softened a little, despite yourself. “Ik hou van jou, Viv.”

She hummed, already half-asleep. “Ik hou van jou, Liefje.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: More Than Enough

Marshall had been deep in album mode for weeks now, and you understood. You always understood. When he was in that space, nothing else existed—not time, not sleep, not food unless you physically put it in front of him.

But what you hadn’t expected was how his team would start leaning on you.

At first, it was small things—grabbing coffee, handling small errands, answering calls when Marshall was too busy. You didn’t mind helping. But then it became more.

"Hey, can you run out and grab lunch for everyone?"

"Mind handling the studio schedule? Paul’s swamped."

"Can you make sure the deliveries get sorted? We’re behind on inventory."

And it wasn’t just errands—it was the dismissive way they spoke to you, like you were supposed to do these things. Like you were just there to help them.

Like you weren’t his wife.

The first few times, you brushed it off. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Marshall was in his creative zone. You didn’t want to bother him with stupid complaints when he was making something brilliant.

But after a while, it started to weigh on you.

You weren’t just being helpful—you were being used.

And the worst part? Marshall didn’t notice.

He barely even looked at you most days, too caught up in the music, scribbling in notebooks, pacing the room while he worked through lyrics. You were just there, silent and waiting.

So you stopped going.

You didn’t make a big deal out of it—you just found excuses. Told him you had things to do at home, or that you didn’t want to get in the way. And at first, he didn’t seem to notice.

Until today.

Marshall came home earlier than usual, his hoodie slung low over his face, his hands in his pockets. He found you curled up on the couch, watching some random show you weren’t even paying attention to.

"You mad at me?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

He sat down on the armrest, facing you. "You’re mad," he repeated. "You haven’t been at the studio all week."

You shrugged, looking away. "Just needed a break."

His eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

You sighed, your fingers tightening around the blanket in your lap. "It’s nothing, Marshall."

"Obviously, it’s something." His voice was sharp now, frustration creeping in. "Talk to me."

You hesitated. "It’s just… your team. They—" You swallowed, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "They kind of use me for shit."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Like, I get it, you’re busy, but they just assume I’ll do things. Errands, scheduling, handling stupid crap they don’t want to deal with. And I didn’t say anything because you were working, and I didn’t want to bother you with—"

Marshall stood up so fast the armrest shook.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You flinched. "Marshall—"

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" His voice was low and dangerous now, his fists clenching at his sides. "They’ve been using you?"

You bit your lip. "I didn’t want to be a distraction."

His head snapped toward you, eyes flashing. "You think you’re a distraction?"

You looked down. "I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."

Marshall let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face before crouching in front of you. He reached for your hands, prying them away from the blanket.

"You’re my wife," he said firmly. "Not their assistant. Not their goddamn secretary. Mine."

Your chest tightened. "I know, but—"

"No." His grip on your hands tightened. "No buts. You don’t hide shit like this from me, you hear me?" His voice softened, but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. "You don’t just deal with it alone."

You swallowed, guilt creeping in. "I didn’t know how to bring it up."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Baby, you don’t gotta know how. You just gotta say it."

You nodded slowly, and Marshall stood, pulling you up with him before wrapping his arms around you.

His chin rested on your head, and his voice rumbled against your hair.

"They’re gonna learn real fucking quick who they’re dealing with."

You smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift off your shoulders.

Marshall wasn’t just listening now—he was handling it.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 11 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇indornrememebr

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/n sat alone in the dimly lit nursery, the soft glow of a single lantern casting shadows on the walls. She cradled Adonis tightly against her chest, his small fingers curling around the fabric of her dress as he dozed peacefully. His quiet breaths were the only sound in the room, but they did little to comfort the ache that seemed to consume her chest. Her tears fell silently at first, dripping onto Adonis’s soft curls as she pressed a trembling kiss to his forehead. The weight of her captivity, the suffocating presence of Raphael, and the constant fear for her son had taken its toll. But tonight, it wasn’t just the present that haunted her, it was the absence of the people she loved most.

She could almost hear Antinous’s voice, teasing her in that sarcastic way of his, calling her stubborn and overdramatic but always watching over her like the protective older brother he had been. He was brash, hot headed, and often infuriating, but he loved her fiercely. She missed the way he’d bicker with her one minute and stand ready to defend her the next. The thought of him locked away in Ithaca, unaware of her suffering, made her heart ache all the more.

And Telemachus, her beloved Telemachus. She closed her eyes, clutching Adonis even tighter. She could almost feel his arms around her, his warm voice whispering reassurances that everything would be okay. She could picture his laugh, the way his eyes would light up whenever he looked at her or held their son. He was her anchor, her strength, and now he was gone, too far away to protect her or Adonis from Raphael’s cruel games.

A choked sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in Adonis’s tiny shoulder. “I miss them so much,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss them, Adonis. I miss your father, your uncle… I miss home.” Adonis stirred slightly, his little hand brushing against her cheek as though sensing her sadness. It only made her cry harder. “They’ll come for us,” she whispered, almost as if trying to convince herself. “They’ll come, they have to. Your father… he’ll bring us home.”

But doubt lingered in her heart. What if they didn’t? What if Raphael’s lies about storms and shipwrecks were true? What if Telemachus had already lost his life trying to save hers? What if Antinous never knew what had happened to her?she shook her head, refusing to entertain those thoughts. “They will come,” she repeated firmly, her tears still falling. “They have to.”

She looked down at Adonis, his innocent face so peaceful in sleep. Her son was her only solace now, her reason to keep going. Gently rocking him, she whispered a lullaby, her voice shaky but soft. “Sleep, my love..” As her voice wavered, she kissed his forehead once more, her tears wetting his soft skin. “I promise,” she whispered, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll hold on until they come. I won’t let him win.” But deep inside, she felt the crushing loneliness of the moment, the overwhelming longing for the family who was so far out of reach.

——

Antinous paced the ship’s deck like a caged animal, his hands clenched into fists. The constant sound of waves crashing against the hull seemed to only fuel his restless energy. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were blazing with frustration and anger. Eurymachus, leaning lazily against a crate nearby, raised an eyebrow as he watched Antinous fume. “You’re going to wear a hole in the deck if you keep pacing like that,” Eurymachus said with a smirk, clearly unbothered by Antinous’s intensity. “What’s got your toga in a twist now?”

Antinous stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiff as he turned to glare at Eurymachus. “What’s got me in a twist?” he repeated, his voice rising. “My sister—my baby sister—is out there, being held by that bastard Raphael, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

Eurymachus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Easy there, Antinous. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I get it. You’re pissed. But pacing and shouting isn’t going to bring her back.”

Antinous stepped closer, his face inches from Eurymachus’s, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “When I get my hands on him, Eurymachus… when I find him…” His hands twitched as if imagining wrapping them around Raphael’s throat. “I’m going to make him beg for death. I’ll carve out every ounce of his arrogance, strip him of every shred of dignity, and let him rot.”

Eurymachus whistled low, his smirk faltering slightly as he realized just how serious Antinous was. “That’s… uh, quite the plan. Got any specifics in mind, or are you just going to wing it?”

Antinous’s eyes darkened, and his voice took on a venomous edge. “Oh, I’ve got specifics. First, I’ll break his fingers one by one, make sure he can’t lay another hand on her. Then I’ll take my time with him, make him feel every ounce of pain he’s caused her, and when he’s finally at his weakest, I’ll remind him that this is just the beginning.”

Eurymachus, though usually one to make light of any situation, found himself shifting uncomfortably under Antinous’s glare. “You’ve, uh, really thought this through, haven’t you?”

Antinous let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think I can sleep at night knowing she’s out there? Knowing he’s probably… hurting her?” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it with anger. “I can’t stop picturing her, scared, alone, with that monster whispering lies into her ear. And Adonis… my nephew. If he lays a hand on that child, I swear to the gods, there won’t be enough of him left to bury.”

Eurymachus studied him for a moment, uncharacteristically quiet. “You really love her, huh?”

“She’s my sister,” Antinous snapped, his tone softening just a fraction. “She’s the only family I have left. I failed her once by letting her get taken. I’m not going to fail her again.”

Eurymachus nodded slowly, his usual bravado replaced by something almost resembling respect. “Alright, Antinous. We’ll get her back. But you need to keep your head on straight. Losing it now isn’t going to help her.”

Antinous sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him. “I know. But if I don’t make it out of this, promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll make sure Raphael suffers.”

Eurymachus smirked again, though this time there was a glint of determination in his eyes. “You’ve got my word. That bastard’s going to regret ever setting foot on Ithacan soil.”

——

The storm hit with no warning. The skies darkened as if night had fallen early, the waves roared like thunder, and the wind howled with a ferocity that made the ship groan under its power. Rain lashed against their faces, and the crew scrambled to keep the ship steady, their voices lost in the chaos. “Hold the line! Don’t let her tip!” Telemachus yelled, gripping the wheel with all his strength. His muscles strained as the ship tilted dangerously with each wave. Acrisios was beside him, trying to tie down loose cargo that was sliding across the deck.

“This is worse than the last storm!” Acrisios shouted, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I swear, the gods have it out for us!”

Cassander and Eurymachus were at the oars, trying to stabilize the ship while exchanging their usual banter despite the chaos. “This is it!” Eurymachus yelled, half panicked. “We’re done for! Drowned before we even get a single war prize!”

“Quit your whining!” Cassander snapped, though his grip on the oars was as white-knuckled as Eurymachus’s. “If I die, I swear I’ll haunt you!”

Meanwhile, Florus was gripping the mast, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “We need to steer clear of those rocks! Telemachus, to the left!”

“Don’t tell me how to steer my ship!” Telemachus growled, but he adjusted the course anyway, the ship barely missing the jagged rocks Florus had pointed out.

Through it all, Antinous and Druses were… sleeping. In the middle of the storm “Unbelievable!” Pisistratus snapped as he tightened a rope. “They can sleep through this?!”

“Forget them!” Telemachus yelled. “We’ve got bigger problems!”

Another wave crashed over the deck, soaking everyone to the bone and sending Florus tumbling into a heap of barrels. Telemachus barked orders, but the storm was relentless, and one by one, the crew began to lose hope. Suddenly, a massive wave surged forward, lifting the ship into the air before slamming it down into the water. The force sent the crew flying in all directions.

The world spun as the ship was tossed like a toy. Then, darkness. Telemachus woke up coughing, his body aching as he pulled himself out of the sand. He squinted against the harsh sunlight, his head pounding from the ordeal. Around him, the remains of the ship were scattered across the shore, broken planks and supplies littering the golden sand. “A-Antinous? Acrisios?” he called hoarsely, his throat dry and raw.

One by one, his crew began to stir. Acrisios groaned as he sat up, sand sticking to his damp clothes. “We’re alive? How in Hades are we alive?”

“I could ask the same,” Florus muttered, rubbing his head as he stumbled toward them.

Cassander rolled over and coughed up water. “That… was the worst storm I’ve ever seen. Eurymachus? Where’s Eurymachus?”

“I’m here,” came a weak voice from behind a piece of driftwood. Eurymachus was sprawled out, his face pale. “I think I swallowed half the ocean.”

Antinous and Druses, who had somehow managed to stay asleep through the storm, were sprawled on the sand nearby, finally waking up.“What the—” Druses sat up, brushing sand out of his hair. “Where are we?”

“Egypt,” Florus said grimly, pointing to the towering statues and pyramids visible in the distance.

Telemachus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “The gods are playing games with us.”

“Egypt?” Acrisios groaned. “How in the name of Poseidon did we end up here?!”

Eurymachus, still lying flat on his back, chuckled weakly. “Well, at least we didn’t drown. That’s something, right?”

Cassander threw a handful of sand at him. “Shut up.”

Telemachus stood, determination hardening his features. “This isn’t over. We’ve survived storms and worse before. We’ll gather supplies, repair what we can, and find a way to finish what we started.” The crew exchanged tired but resolute glances. They were battered, bruised, and far from home—but they weren’t giving up.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[hy6erion]

Hii! I know I just send in an another request but this idea also popped into my mind and I feel like you could write it quite well so I didn't want to send it to someone else.

Viktor×reader, where readers way of expressing their love and care is by taking care of people and trying to help as much as possible to make life easier for everyone they care about (opening doors, making food, helping a friend study, all the small and big things). I think viktor would struggle to accept that reader cares for him and isn't just babying him. Him slowly realising that he can ask for help not only when it's absolutely necessary but also just when he wants help because it would be easier. But then also getting stuck with the feeling of the reader being so caring for everyone. Love confession or something? Idk

Sorry for sending two requests in a row, take your time please.

~🍒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩- 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚��𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (╥╯^╰╥)

Viktor was used to doing things alone. It wasn’t a matter of pride—at least, not entirely. It was habit. Necessity. He had learned early on that asking for help often led to disappointment, so he learned to manage on his own. He had learned to be independent, to push forward no matter the difficulty, to adjust his grip on his cane and keep moving even when his leg ached and the weight of exhaustion pressed against his skull.

That was why he struggled with you. Because you—without hesitation, without expectation—made his life easier.

It started small, things he could brush off. You holding open doors when you walked ahead of him, waiting just long enough so he wouldn’t have to catch the handle himself. You adjusting his chair in the lab before he sat down, subtle, like you hadn’t even thought about it. You bringing him tea when you got your own, setting it down beside him without a word.

But it wasn’t just him.

You did it for everyone. Helping Jayce reorganize his disaster of a desk when you noticed him getting frustrated. Bringing Claggor coffee when he was pulling an all-nighter. Tutoring some first-years when you saw them struggling with equations you could solve in seconds.

You were thoughtful in a way that seemed effortless, as if your care for others was woven into your very being.

And it unsettled him. Because the more he noticed it, the harder it became to ignore.

He had spent years learning to work through pain, through difficulty, through exhaustion. He only ever asked for help when there was no other option. And yet, with you, help was simply given—before he could even think to ask.

And worse than that, you didn’t just do it because of his leg, or because you pitied him. You did it because you cared.

That realization was the most difficult thing of all.

The lab was quiet save for the occasional scratch of pen on paper and the rhythmic tap of Viktor’s cane against the floor as he moved back and forth between his desk and the chalkboard. He was immersed in his work, half-formed calculations filling the margins of his notebook.

Until—

“Viktor.” Your voice, warm and familiar, pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up just as you placed a plate of food beside him.

He frowned. “I didn’t ask for—”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But you haven’t eaten all day, and I was making something for myself anyway. Figured you’d appreciate not starving.”

Viktor’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you repeated easily. “But I wanted to.”

That should have been the end of it. You turned to leave, already heading back to your own work, but Viktor’s grip tightened around his pen.

“…You do this for everyone.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at the plate, at the general atmosphere of you. “You help everyone. You—” He exhaled sharply, frustration edging his voice. “You don’t have to keep looking after me.”

You blinked, head tilting slightly. “I don’t have to. I want to.”

Viktor shook his head. “You should not waste your time worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” you said, more firmly this time. You took a step closer, crossing your arms. “But just because you can do something alone doesn’t mean you have to.”

Viktor opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond to that. He had spent so long believing he was only allowed help when it was absolutely necessary. When he physically could not continue without it.

But you—you were offering it simply because you cared.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

It took time.

At first, he tried to resist. If he needed something from a high shelf, he would stretch for it. If his leg ached after hours of standing, he would grit his teeth and bear it. If his hands trembled from exhaustion, he would steady them himself.

But you were there.

Not pushing, not forcing—just there. And it became harder to ignore the fact that things were simply easier when he let you help.

The first time he asked for something—really asked, not because he had no other choice but because he wanted to—it was almost painful.

“Could you… hand me that book?”

You didn’t comment on the hesitation in his voice, didn’t make a big deal of it. You just passed him the book and went back to your work, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

And maybe, for you, it was.

So he tried.

He let you carry an extra cup of tea back to the table when he saw you holding two. He let you adjust the strap of his bag when it had slipped. He let you—just once—walk beside him at his pace without feeling the need to keep up.

And then one day, without thinking, he said, “Could you help me with this equation?”

And you did. No hesitation. No expectation. Just a simple, of course.

And he realized—he liked it.

He liked knowing that there was someone who cared enough to notice when he needed something. He liked the ease of it, the weight lifting from his shoulders.

But then— Then he caught himself watching you help others. Not just him. Everyone.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was simply who you were.

But the next time you reached out to help Jayce with something, something hot and tight twisted in his chest.

“Do you—” He hesitated, words feeling foreign in his mouth. “Do you care for everyone the way you care for me?”

You looked at him then, truly looked, as if you were searching for something beneath his carefully neutral expression.

“No.” Your voice was quiet, but certain.

His breath caught.

You took a step closer. “I care about a lot of people. But you—” A small, almost nervous smile played at your lips. “You are different.”

Viktor swallowed. He had spent so long avoiding the truth that it almost knocked the air from his lungs.

You cared for him. Not because you pitied him. Not because you saw him as weak.

But because you wanted to.

Because you loved him.

And suddenly, he was laughing—soft, breathless, incredulous.

Because maybe—just maybe—he loved you too.

[aquamarixx]

the homeowner effect

Niko Ikki never knew owning a house could be such an icebreaker—until his blind date’s flustered, accidental comment leaves him wondering if this might be his best date yet. pairing niko ikki x reader tags post manga timeskip, aged up characters, fluff, happy birthday niko! navigation

Your friend, Otoya, sets you up with someone he knows. According to him, his friend is a “nice guy”—a term that usually makes you suspicious. Otoya isn’t exactly known for being a stellar matchmaker, after all. But so far, the guy in question, Niko Ikki, is polite, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

He likes anime and manga. He has pretty good taste in music, too. He seems too good to be true, and you can’t help but test the waters a little to get him a little bit better.

“So, where do you live?” you ask, stabbing the carrot cake you’ve ordered to share.

He casually name-drops a notoriously expensive and quiet neighborhood. “It’s nice and peaceful there,” he says.

You nearly choke on your drink. “Wait, seriously? You live there?”

He nods as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah.”

Curiosity gets the better of you. “So… do you share the rent with someone? Like a roommate or…?”

He blinks, looking slightly confused, as if the thought hasn’t even occurred to him. “No. I, uh… I own the place.”

Your fork clatters onto your plate, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. You don’t care. “You own it?”

“Yeah,” he admits softly, the tips of his ears turning red. “I bought it last year.”

“You bought it last year?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

He tilts his head slightly, as though he can’t quite understand why you look so shocked. “Yes.”

“Wait, you’re 27, right?”

“Yeah, 27,” he confirms, taking a sip of his drink.

You stare at him in disbelief, the pieces of information refusing to settle in your brain. “Okay, so… you own your place in one of the priciest neighborhoods in the city. How? I mean—are you, like, a trust fund baby or something? What do you do?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “No, no trust fund. I just… work hard and save. I play sports.”

“Like professionally?” you ask, your voice laced with amazement.

“Kind of,” he says with a small shrug. “It’s for a local team.” Well, technically, the Japan National Team is a local team, Niko thinks.

Your gaze drifts over him, noticing for the first time how well-built he is. He catches you looking, and you quickly cough, averting your eyes. But your thoughts linger on the bigger revelation: he owns his place.

And you’re impressed. Stunned, really. Here you are at 25, living in a shared house with your best friend and still making payments on a car loan your parents had practically forced you to buy. And meanwhile, Niko—calm, humble, and ridiculously cute Niko—is out here playing sports for a living and owning a house in this economy.

“You own your own house,” you repeat, almost in disbelief.

“Yes,” he says again, his voice steady but his ears now bright red under your scrutiny.

Before you can stop yourself, you mutter, “Wow, that’s hot.”

Niko freezes mid-sip, his eyes snapping to yours. His cheeks turn a deep pink, and his lips part as if he’s not sure he’s heard you right. “H-Hot?”

You groan, slapping a hand over your face. “Oh my god, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

He looks down at his glass, his fingers brushing the edge nervously. But then, a soft smile tugs at his lips, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “I mean… thanks?”

Peeking at him through your fingers, you find his shy but amused expression making your heart flutter. It’s not fair. Not only is he financially stable and smart, but he also has this quiet, unassuming charm that makes you want to know more.

“So, uh,” you say awkwardly, trying to recover, “what else are you hiding? Do you, like, run your own company on the side or something?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I’m just a regular guy who likes anime, gaming, and reading manga. And plays sports for a living.” He pauses, his gaze meeting yours, and his tone softens. “And I think this is the first time anyone’s ever called me ‘hot’ because of where I live.”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, trying to act cool despite the warmth creeping up your neck, “there’s a first time for everything.”

He laughs again, the sound warm and genuine, and you feel yourself relax. This date isn’t just going well. It’s easily the best one he's had in a long time.

amari's notes: happy birthday to one of my faves and fellow aquarius baby, niko! i am going all out celebrating his birthday. made a fanfic, made a cake and commissioned an art! there are some niko merch i managed to get and hopefully i get more!

taglist: @inu1gf

[shares-a-vest]

I had to give Eddie blonde hair (well, a wig) hehe.

"Tell me, my dearest Christine," Eddie hisses, looking at his reflection in his dressing room mirror, "Why do I need to do this again?"

His gaze narrows in on the dorky, short blonde wig on his head – a monstrosity the hair and makeup artist for today's embarrassing shoot just finished gluing to his skull.

It's mortifying!

God-awful.

A career-ending tuft of piss-yellow cat hair, all for some stupid magazine's stupid 'serious' tell-all interview with his own stupid self.

"Don't worry," Chrissy replies, "You look cute."

Eddie shrieks and whirls around to glare at his best friend slash-assistant slash-everything in between.

"Excuse me?" he shrieks, his voice bouncing off the walls of the cramped dressing room.

Chrissy giggles.

"It's just for today," she assures, "The photographer wants you to surprise people! Shed your bad-boy rockstar image to uh... better connect with a wider audience..."

She trails off with that last part, unsure as she repeats the magazine's pitch that left them both more than a little sceptical when the email first came through about a month back.

He frowns and puffs out his chest, ready to discuss the desperate and greedy corporatisation of the music industry. One that stifles creativity, all the while profiting millions off the very talent lawyers and managers (and whoever else in between) want to bend and mould and shape into nothing more than a bubblegum pop princess who –

Chrissy jumps at a knock on the dressing room door. But before Eddie can scream "Occupied!", in walks Steve, looking scrumptious and cozy in his new favourite cable-knit sweater, coffee in hand and smiling wide.

Eddie's face drops.

"Get out!" he screams, palming at the wig.

He wishes he could yank it right off, but he thinks his totally awesome and not-at-all dorky hair might come with it and never recover.

Eddie shudders at the thought.

"Way to greet – oh my god!" Steve cuts himself off as he all but shoves the coffee into Chrissy's waiting hands.

"Thank you," she whispers, hiding another laugh with the coffee cup.

Steve grins back at Eddie like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

Eddie folds his arms and turns back to the mirror, away from the now rapturous chuckles behind him. But he only gets an eyeful of the wig once again and honestly? He thinks he might cry about it.

"Why are you here?" he dry-sobs.

"Cleared my schedule for the morning," Steve says and soon after Eddie feels a warm body next to his and a sweet kiss pressing to his cheek, "Chrissy said I had to come down here and laugh at you."

"I want a divorce," Eddie threatens despite leaning into Steve's side.

"Nuh-uh," Steve teases, addressing him via the mirror, "You gave me that line last week when I forgot to buy our favourite ice cream."

"It was on the shopping list!"

"And I told you, I had to leave the store because someone was following me and taking photos."

Eddie turns to his partner and smiles, "You looked so cute with your little shopping cart, baby."

He wraps his arms around Steve's middle as Chrissy groans.

Oh.

"I'll leave you guys with... whatever is gonna go on here," she warns, turning to the door, "Just don't mess up your makeup. I'll go and find out what's taking wardrobe so long."

She exits, still humming over her coffee and Steve smiles as he runs a feather-light hand over the wig.

"Now who looks like a Ken Doll?"

"Shut up," Eddie grumbles, pulling Steve tighter.

"What have they got you wearing for this thing?"

Eddie sighs, "A fucking grandma blouse and these really tight cream pants. Stevie, they are so tight."

"Ohhh," Steve coos, "I wanna see those."

[kangshxrtie]

Fifteen | Crashing down

"She's her problem now Baby, and she'll stay with her" - Tummy Hurts, Reneé Rapp

you made eye contact with yunjin for a couple of seconds before shifting your full attention to nien, blocking the korean-american girl from your mind.

you delivered your line, and nien responded by kissing you, just like the script said.

"cut," yunjin called out.

but you and nien kept kissing.

"cut," yunjin repeated, her voice sharper this time.

still, you and nien didn't pull away.

"cut!" yunjin yelled, louder and more frustrated.

finally, you and nien broke apart, slightly breathless.

"was it a good take?" you asked casually, as nien wiped some of your lip gloss off her lips with the back of her hand.

"yeah, it should be; we're just gonna look over it," chaewon replied, glancing at the monitor.

you and nien exchanged an awkward glance before getting off the bed. you made your way over to where intak was standing, arms crossed and smirking.

"that kiss was a lil something-something," he teased, nudging you playfully.

"we just wanted to make it good for the film," you replied coolly.

"sure," he nodded, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide.

you were about to talk back when yunjin approached, her expression tight.

"y/n, let's talk," she said, gesturing toward the door, her tone leaving little room for argument.

"later. i'm a little busy talking with intak right now," you replied, barely sparing her a glance.

"it's important," yunjin pressed, her voice firmer.

intak looked between the two of you, sensing the tension thickening like fog. not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he gave a polite nod and quickly excused himself. coward.

you sighed and followed yunjin outside. the cool air hit your face, but it did nothing to ease your feelings right now.

"so you wanna explain that?" yunjin snapped as soon as you were far enough from the door.

"explain what? i was just talking to intak," you replied, feigning innocence.

"you know that's not what i'm talking about," yunjin shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"i really don't," you said, your voice dripping with mock confusion.

"okay, since you wanna act like this. why didn't you stop nien when she kept kissing you?" yunjin's eyes narrowed.

"why would i? she was just acting," you shrugged, nonchalant.

"we both know damn well that wasn't acting. she likes you," yunjin accused, her tone sharp.

"if she does, then what?" you countered, raising an eyebrow.

"i would hope my girlfriend would keep some distance from another girl that clearly likes her," yunjin said, her voice tight with frustration.

"well, i think chaewon likes you. will you keep your distance from her if i ask?" you shot back without missing a beat.

"that's different," yunjin sighed.

"tell me how it's any different. i'm in the same situation as you. nien's my main partner, chaewon's yours. what's different? 'cause i really need to know," you challenged, your patience wearing thin.

"you and nien kiss for this project," yunjin stated flatly. you couldn't lie—she had a point there.

"we're actors, though. it means nothing," you lied effortlessly.

"even if it means nothing to you, it clearly meant something to nien," yunjin shot back, her gaze sharp.

"at least she makes her feelings public," you muttered under your breath.

"i'm sorry, what was that?" yunjin asked, disbelief etched in her features.

before either of you could say more, soobin poked his head out. "are y'all done out here? we need to film the last scene."

"give us—" yunjin started, but you cut her off. "yeah, we're done talking," you said curtly, heading back inside with soobin. yunjin stood there for a few seconds, frozen, her jaw clenched before she finally followed.

she wasn't done talking to you. but that would have to wait.

eventually, filming wrapped up, the tension still lingering in the air.

"dinner on me to celebrate all the troubles and shit we went through to get this done," soobin said, stretching his arms with a satisfied grin.

"and drinks on me because we deserve to get fucked up," yeonjun added, already pulling out his phone to scout for bars nearby.

"i will not complain about that," chaewon chimed in, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

everyone began packing up but since you were only an actor, you didn't have much to carry, so you decided to help keeho tidy up his area.

"so... you and nien?" keeho asked casually, stacking some equipment.

"what about us?" you replied, helping him pack the cables.

"are you two... you know?" keeho pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"keeho, just ask what you wanna ask," you shot back, not missing a beat.

"are you two dating?" he finally blurted.

"no," you shook your head, stuffing some scripts into a bag.

"then what the fuck was that kiss earlier? i know you heard yunjin say cut," keeho said, narrowing his eyes.

"guess she couldn't get enough of me," you shrugged nonchalantly.

"so you two like each other," keeho smirked, clearly entertained.

"maybe," you replied, glancing over and catching yunjin eavesdropping, her gaze sharp as ever.

"we're leaving now," yunjin announced abruptly, her voice cutting through.

"let's go then," you said, brushing past her to walk out with keeho, pretending not to notice the glare she shot your way.

"are you riding with me?" keeho asked as you reached the parking lot.

"y/n can ride with me," yunjin interjected quickly, her tone firm. chaewon tilted her head slightly at that but kept her thoughts to herself.

just then, intak and nien emerged from the building, loading their stuff into keeho's car.

"actually, i'll ride with keeho," you decided, heading toward his car without another glance at yunjin.

"i hope there's still room for me," you said, standing behind nien as she shut the trunk.

she turned around, her smile softening. "of course. i can always make room for you."

"good." nien helped you toss your bag into the backseat, and the two of you climbed in together.

"i think i fucked up. don't make out in the back of my car!" keeho groaned as he settled into the driver's seat.

"we make no promises," you joked, buckling in with a grin.

"i will actually jump out of this car if y'all start that shit," intak muttered from the passenger seat, shaking his head.

meanwhile, yunjin, chaewon, soobin, and yeonjun stood near the front of the building, watching the scene unfold.

"i had a feeling the rumors were true," yeonjun remarked, his eyes following keeho's car as it pulled away.

"they're not," yunjin snapped, her jaw tight.

"then how do you explain that?" yeonjun countered.

"they're just playing their roles a little too well," yunjin said coolly, unlocking her car with a sharp click. "now let's go. we have to beat them there."

"but filming's literally over," yeonjun muttered, trailing behind as the group followed yunjin to her car.

the whole dinner was spent with you and nien hanging onto each other. obviously part of the plan, and tonight you were going all out. you didn’t make eye contact with yunjin even once, except during the group cheers at the beginning. you talked to everyone but her, even chaewon, just to really drive the point home: she was the problem.

once everyone finished eating, you all made your way to a bar right across the street.

you were busy taking shots with keeho and yeonjun when yunjin pulled nien off to the side while chaewon was outside putting something in the car.

"i didn’t know you and y/n were that close," yunjin said.

"oh, it’s recent. we’ve just been good company to each other lately," nien replied casually.

"do you like her?" yunjin asked, her tone sharp.

"well..." nien trailed off, letting the word hang in the air.

"you shouldn’t. i’m pretty sure she’s already dating somebody else," yunjin snapped.

"yeah, i know. i don’t really like who she’s dating, though," nien shot back, her glare unwavering, making it clear she knew exactly of the “relationship” that was going on between you and yunjin.

"don’t be a homewrecker," yunjin warned.

"you don’t have to worry about me," nien replied, raising her hands in mock defense. "what you should worry about is her." she nodded toward chaewon, who had just walked back through the door.

"you don’t know anything," yunjin retorted.

"okay~" nien dragged out the word with a smirk.

yunjin stared her down for a moment before turning on her heel and walking over to chaewon. nien just laughed to herself and made her way back to you.

"your girlfriend just threatened me," she announced with a grin.

"she did? how?" you asked, intrigued.

"i think she was trying to act like a wingman at first, but then she switched up when i admitted i was interested in you," nien said.

"oooh. you’re interested in me," you teased.

"oh, shit! you weren’t supposed to know," nien replied, feigning shock.

"sucks for you. i have a girlfriend right now," you shot back playfully.

"right now," nien repeated with a sly grin. "but maybe not in a couple of hours, hopefully."

"hopefully," you echoed, smirking.

you spent the rest of the night taking shots with the group, minus yunjin, who you continued to avoid. yunjin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop watching you. the way you laughed with nien, how close you seemed, the casual touches; it all annoyed her. sometimes nien would catch yunjin’s glare and respond with a smug smile, especially when you were leaning into the taiwanese-vietnamese girl, and that really set yunjin on edge. but she held back, knowing she couldn’t cause a scene in front of everyone.

luckily for her, you eventually slipped away to the bathroom. yunjin followed, waiting outside the one-person stall. as soon as you stepped out, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a nearby private room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the fuck, yunjin?” you yelled, but the korean-american girl quickly covered your mouth, dragging you into an empty room, meant for private sessions, and slamming the door shut.

“what the fuck is your problem?” yunjin snapped the moment the door clicked shut, her eyes blazing with frustration.

“what are you even talking about, yunjin?” you shot back, feigning confusion.

“what do you mean, what?” she lashed out, her hands gesturing wildly. “you and nien! whatever the fuck you two have going on.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” you replied flatly, crossing your arms defensively.

“are you serious? you and nien have been acting like girlfriends all night!” yunjin spat, her voice rising with each word.

“i mean, isn’t that good for us though? you didn’t want anybody to know about us,” you countered.

“that doesn’t mean i want people to think you’re with somebody else,” yunjin shot back, her frustration boiling over.

“as long as we know what’s happening between us, it’s fine. that’s what you said, right?” you retaliated.

“yeah, but we should at least not entertain other people,” she snapped, the hypocrisy in her words almost laughable.

you nearly rolled your eyes. “you act like you’re single. what’s the problem with me doing the same?”

“i’m sorry i don’t want people to make up rumors and shit about us,” yunjin said, her voice softer now, but the irritation still lingering.

“that’s literally the least of my worries about us,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.

yunjin sighed, rubbing her face in frustration. “i don’t know what you want me to do to make this better.”

“i don’t want anything,” you shrugged, your indifference only fueling her annoyance.

yunjin’s jaw clenched. “so you want me to not hang out with anybody and devote all my attention to you, basically?”

“that’s literally not what i said at all. obviously, we don’t understand each other. maybe it’s best if we just end this,” you said, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

“wait, y/n, please don’t break up with me. we can settle our problems and be together. please,” she begged, her voice trembling slightly as her eyes pleaded with you.

you sighed, watching her crumble in front of you, her desperation evident in the way she clung to the last shred of hope.

“we can even become public if that’s what you want. just please don’t leave me,” she added quickly.

“then let’s go out there right now and announce our relationship,” you said without missing a beat, challenging her.

yunjin physically recoiled, her face betraying her hesitation before she quickly recovered. “well, maybe not right now, but like within a week, of course.”

“why not?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

“listen, just hear me out. i obviously want to be with you, but i just gotta handle some stuff first, and then we can—”

“so you can cut off all your hoes?” you scoffed, bitterness lacing your words.

“i have no hoes! just you,” yunjin exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and desperation.

“can you please stop lying?” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“baby, i swear i only want to be with you. you’re the love of my life,” yunjin said, stepping closer, her eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness.

you sighed deeply, walking toward her, watching her face light up with hope—only for it to drop when you spoke. “you should be saying that to chaewon.”

“what do you mean?” yunjin choked out, her face paling.

“you thought i wouldn’t know?” you asked, your voice calm but laced with fury.

“listen, i don’t know what nien told you, but nothing is going on between me and chaewon,” she stammered.

“nien didn’t tell me anything; i’m the one who told her,” you replied coldly.

“huh? what do you mean?” yunjin’s confusion only made her look guiltier.

“i literally saw you two, yunjin!” you yelled, your anger finally spilling over.

“baby, that’s a misunderstanding,” yunjin tried to explain, her words empty.

“so you remember our anniversary? when i suddenly couldn’t meet up? it was because i saw you laid up in bed with chaewon,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“listen, baby, what i had with chaewon wasn’t serious,” yunjin said, stepping closer as if proximity could erase the betrayal.

“so we weren’t serious?” a new voice cut through, and both of you turned to see chaewon standing in the doorway.

“huh?” yunjin spun around, her face draining of color.

“you just told y/n we weren’t serious. she already found out, what’s the point of hiding it?” chaewon said, her expression unreadable.

“did you tell her?” yunjin asked, her voice sharp with accusation.

“i didn’t say anything,” chaewon replied coolly.

“i literally just found out on my own. nobody told me anything,” you told her.

“wait, y/n, can you just hear me out for a second—” yunjin pleaded, her voice desperate.

“what is there to hear you out about? i know everything,” you interrupted, your voice low but firm. “even your project that, for some reason, included you dating me.”

“i swear there’s context,” yunjin insisted, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“i don’t even care. i’m gonna make this easier for all of us and just break up with you now,” you said softly, the finality in your words hitting harder than any scream could.

“baby, please,” yunjin begged, her voice breaking.

“i hope you and chaewon are happy together,” you said quietly, turning on your heel and walking out of the room. 

Masterlist ــــــﮩ٨ـ Next

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I Can Show You Lies

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 11

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.6k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

“Wembley, you are looking beautiful tonight!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t get mad, get even

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that only left April.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another memory locked in his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isn’t it delicate?

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

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

~

See you at dinner!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid, stupid me.

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

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

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

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

Friends with Roy Kent was no longer enough.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd@littlepinapple@sunfairyy@shadowzena43@uhmidkmuch@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme@alicedsworld@222333777@thegivenvoid @tortilla-maria1@treblebeth@maackiimoo@di-essere-amato@sortzz@i-am-mrsreckless @dreadfuljas @klaudosh @adri4na

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by the gorgeous and fabulous @cordiallyfuturedwight and @aprylynn for february's roundup:

tagging the usual music favs: @jiminsproof @thvinyl @jimin-gaon @visionsofgideontheninth @spicyclematis @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi plus @kimtaegis for the amy macdonald of it all 💜 and also you, dear reader. MWAH

[rinasauruss]

closer than quiet

summary: Rafe is so tall he has to lean down to hear you better. that's it.

warnings: none, me thinks. just a suggestive line at the end ;P

word count: 590

AN: I couldn't help myself, so I wrote this blurb! this is my first time writing Rafe, let me know what you think! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. feedback is appreciated!

The soft hum of the waves was a steady background to the crackling of the bonfire, the flames dancing as the heat mixed with the cool bite of the night breeze. You stood near the fire, feeling the warmth spread through you, but the presence behind you was what made your skin tingle the most.

Rafe was close, an arm wrapped around your waist with a casual ease that made you feel both safe and exposed at the same time. His thumb traced slow, absent circles over your stomach, his other hand holding a beer with the same relaxed grip he used when he wasn’t thinking about much at all. Topper and Kelce were deep in conversation, their voices more distant than usual, as if the world around you had faded into something quieter. Rafe barely added to the chatter, content to stay in his own head—or maybe it was you who had his full attention. You weren’t sure, but it felt like you did.

You turned your head, looking up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You good?" You asked it quietly, as though you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it anyway.

Rafe didn’t immediately respond, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. Instead, he leaned down, tilting his head as if to catch the softest whisper, even though you’d only spoken in your normal tone. His presence grew even more intense with the movement, his height hovering over you, his face drawing closer in that effortless, unspoken way that made you feel smaller and more drawn in with each inch.

"Hm?" His voice was low, just above a murmur, the sound of it vibrating through your chest.

You flushed at the gesture, a subtle warmth rising in your cheeks. His closeness, his height, the way he made the space around you feel like it shrank to just the two of you—it was disarming in the best way. His breath fanned over your skin, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine, and you could almost feel the heartbeat beneath his chest as he leaned in further.

You swallowed, your voice a little shakier this time. "You doing good?" You repeated, hoping your tone sounded steady, but there was no hiding the way he affected you.

Rafe’s grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he felt the slight hitch in your breath, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. It was as though he knew exactly how much he was making you feel.

"Yeah, m'good, baby," he hummed, his voice deepening in that way it did when he was in his element. "Just thinking."

"About?" you asked, a whisper now, almost afraid to ask but too curious to hold back.

He tilted his head again, moving in just a little further, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The closeness, the heat of his breath, was enough to send a shiver all the way down your spine, leaving you breathless.

The moment stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and everything that lay beneath the surface. The bonfire crackled, the night air was cool, but Rafe’s presence was all you could feel now, the pull of him drawing you in further than you’d ever planned to go.

His voice was soft, smooth, laced with that teasing edge that always made your heart skip a beat. "Just thinking about how much fun I’m gonna have taking this little dress off you later."

(support banner by @cafekitsune )

[bluelockmaniac]

“pftt– kento, what did you just say?” a wholehearted laugh bursts from your lips, your body hunching over as you smack your knee senselessly. you look at nanami, urging him to repeat his words.

your newlywed husband stares at you like you had gone crazy, brows furrowed in confusion. he sits on the edge of the bed next to you, his thick fingers fumbling to loosen his tie as he clears his throat.

“i said, are we going to do the birds and the bees...?”

you couldn't hold it any longer. with a loud thud, you throw yourself back onto the bed, rolling on the mattress with your arms clutching your stomach as you try to catch your breath.

“ahahaha, oh my gosh. baby, you're so funny.” you manage to gasp out between fits of laughter. you wipe off the pearly tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes, your cheeks aching from the wide grin plastered across your face. “do people even still say that?!” 

“ah.” nanami immediately turns his head away from you, his eyes darting to the floor as he desperately tries to avoid eye contact. he could feel the warmth blooming up his cheeks and dusting his the tips of his ears a soft pink.

“—and that euphemism refers to teaching people about sex, not the action itself, hahaha.” you state matter-of-factly, adding salt to his wound with a teasing smile.

you watch as nanami shrinks from embarrassment. perhaps he was a bit outdated. he propped his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. “sweetheart, i'm not sure if i'm mentally ready to do this now.” he mumbles awkwardly.

you positioned yourself in front of nanami, effortlessly prying his large hands away from his face. “hah? no way,” you shake your head, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “this is our wedding night. i want us enjoy ourselves and do the... birds and the bees together–" you bite your bottom lip to stifle your laughter.

he was not impressed. needless to say, your teasing led to a rather merciless night. but, you did not mind it one bit. in fact, nanami soon noticed that you had developed an obsession with the birds perched outside your window and the bees hovering over flowers in your garden.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.