#this sounded much more profound in my head

[nyxavia]

𝑰𝑭 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑵𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬 / 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑺 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫 .ᐟ

" don't fall in love with me, " she whispered, and kissed vi's neck. no, not her lips .. there was no room for such sentiment.

⸻

OR; the one where pitfighter!vi gets a bodyguard, and loris is tired.

yet another ring of cold metal is what signals violet's victory in the stadium. a plethora of liquids dribbling down her face. landing on neck, running down her chest.. blood, sweat, a few tears. stainning.

her chances &&. confidence at winning being clear as day beforehand, as the opponent is grappled to the floor. chest heaves, rising &&. falling rapidly on top of him ⸻ knees on either side, trapping. with a few more rough punches, the brawler raises a triumphant belt in the air, voice raising at an alarming amount and chest hit multiple times.

pride. excitement. adrenaline. feeling at her absolute peak.

" thats enough, "

a hand grounds her senses, landing on shoulder, coldly, yet feeling light as a feather. strictly, too. " let's get moving. " lastly, a kick to the guy's shin; disrespectful, and hostile. though nothing vi's companion had the right to comment on, now matter how much she thought about it.

he was a certain fucker, one whose ass she recalled kicking in stillwater a few times ⸻ adding to the reputation of inmate 516.

both of them are escorted to the backrooms, violet spitting a tooth or two here and there. " knocked that bastard's shit to next week, " she exclaims, initiating conversation, and surely one could take that statement for pride. the other woman chuckles, opening a door for her.

" i'm sure getting his ass beat by someone like you was on his bingo list. " sarcasm.

but oh, it wasn't always like this.

⸻

" i can handle my shit! who do you think i am? "

loris' head falls against the wall, arms folding atop some wooden chair. in all honesty, exhausted at the sheer thought of his friend putting herself through all that countless pain. sure, a bodyguard sounded silly. unnecessary, one could argue. but he couldn't always stick around .. vi's matches had become more &&. more frequent, her attempts at forgetting some rich bluenette and drowning her mental pain in physical one, causing her to book one too many pit - fights. illegally so.

if it wasn't for him, someone had to stop that. someone that would get paid for it, at least to have her safety ensured.

" ... shit. who the hell is that? "

it didn't help that this someone was attractive, too.

a beautiful woman, with features fatal and sharp as a blade, tall enough for vi to crane her neck to meet her gaze. black hair reaching her shoulder, eyes a chartreuse hue like a feline's. piercing.

" you must be vi. " she begins, extending a palm with profound politeness. in the city of zaun, meetings &&. introductions that adorn such pleasantries never seemed sincere. she was cautious, wondering what kind if a purpose it would serve to stick around her matches for endless hours. why? why her, specifically?

too many questions, too little time.

shiny black polish, the brawler retorts. huh, sharp nails too; however was this sweetheart supposed to protect someone like her? matter of fact, it only reminded her she required no protection. therefore, back to stage one.

it takes the best of her abilities to cease staring, and a nudge on the shoulder from loris to fix the agape state of her mouth; told you, he mouths.

" i'll just let you two hit it off, " and with the smallest grunt, he was out. letting the two sit in initial, uncomfortable silence.

vi makes the first move, scoffing in an underestimating manner.

" i don't know what he told you, but i don't need a bodyguard. "

" those nasty scars would beg to differ. "

" well duh, i'm a fighter. "

tik, tok. tik, tok; moments pass, feeling like hours. they both didn't seem very fond of one another, but it also didn't seem like they had much of a choice but to deal with it. when it came to granting vi's wellbeing, loris had grown persistent. what a good friend ..

he had decided on keeping this woman around, if it meant she'd have someone that at least looked capable of handling her rough behavior. her fangirls, the overworking, the recklessness around bars. no matter how much she whined and yelled.

" a careless one, at that. just let me do my job, hm? " chin cupped in mere seconds then, almost in a flirtatious manner. " i saw the way you looked at me. you'll love having me around. "

and, shit. all these interactions with groupies .. sure had made vi forget how fucking attractive direct women were.

an arm was extended then. urging to walk through, with a feign bow of her much, much taller frame. mocking, almost.

if tension was what vi wanted, then tension vi would get. " after you, madame. "

she doesn't need to be told twice.

⸻

a/n; okay HI!!! idek what this is. 😭 fic glimpse maybe?? i hope this fandom likes oc's in fics. okay bye 🫶🫶🫶

[loserlesbianbehavior]

I don't wanna be stealth, my gender is trans girl, not cis woman. The dick stays on during sex.

[funkfuck]

majima saying “i’m the only one who can kill you” isnt literal. hes just a deeply traumatized man desperately trying to say “you can’t leave me until i say you can”

throughout his life hes just losing EVERYONE that he cares for, anyone who goes so far as to be decent to him either ends up dead or behind bars or suffering some other horrible fate. i feel like yakuza 0 is really him realizing that, that just by being connected to him the people he wants to keep safe are always going to be in danger. because of him, because of his life. he leaves makoto not because he doesn’t love her or because he doesn’t want to be with her but because he knows she doesn’t deserve to get dragged through hell and back again and again and again just because of him.

(i mean just think of haruka. haruka after the whole ten billion incident goes down would mean basically nothing to the tojo clan. but because kiryu decides to raise and care for her, she gets kidnapped, she goes through intensely traumatic events, she’s constantly in danger of dying at the hands of people who don’t really care for her, who just want to get close to kiryu)

and majima knows this. he knows that in this line of work simply having meaningful connections with others will be punished, either literally by someone higher up than him in the pecking order (you know, like the hole) and/or with the inherent grief and guilt that comes with losing someone.

and who is the exception? who is the person who, despite always facing life-threatening danger, comes out on top over and over again? its kiryu. the only permanent fixture in majima’s life. the only person who refuses to die no matter what happens. his only friend. majima’s so loyal and trusting of him because he knows he’s the only man who can handle it, the only person he’s not a danger to (ironic). what is majima everywhere if not his fucked up way of making sure kiryu is strong enough to fight off all the people coming for him? so that he doesn’t get killed by someone while he’s not looking?

he can’t lose kiryu. if he dies he’ll be completely alone. he’ll just become another yakuza who can’t trust anyone. i honestly, truly believe if kiryu were to die we’d get another majima storms the dojima tojo hq and leaves no man standing moment like the final boss fights in yakuza 0. he’d go completely off the rails in a more intense way than we’ve ever seen before. (and you know what. if kiryu was dead when he arrived at the diet building in y3 we would’ve seen that. the anguish and pain in his voice when he can’t see him is... insane. he would’ve torn apart at least 20 men right there)

majima taking a knife to the gut to protect kiryu, majima beating sengoku’s men and almost dying just to keep his promise, majima going back to help daigo just because kiryu asked, the whole pink truck fiasco... he’s always desperately showing he cares, he just can’t say it.

“I’m the only one allowed to kill him!” just means “You can’t die on me, too.”

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[criminalamnesia]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well :))

I just loveee the traitor series. Do you plan on making a part 5 or more?

thank you! here’s part five :)

the other parts can be found in my COD masterlist, which is here

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

I’ll proofread later :))

you stormed out of the gym, eyesight blurry from hot tears. you weren’t crying because you were sad— no. you were furious. furious at how simon was so fucking stubborn. at how he thought he was in the right.

droplets of blood marked your footsteps as you made your way back to the infirmary. you weren’t particularly anxious to be yelled at by the doctor, but getting it over with as soon as possible was ideal.

“bonnie, y’alrigh’?”

soap. you hadn’t even seen him, so lost in your thoughts. you blinked away tears and ignored the scot, continuing to make your way down the hall in silence.

the sound of hurried footsteps was unmistakable behind you. soap wasn’t taking silence for an answer, apparently.

“bonnie, please—” he began, the drawl of his voice catapulting your mind to the past. to better days.

days when soap had patched you up after a fight, his fingers nimble as he stitched up a cut in your thigh.

“s’it hurt?” he spoke, voice gravelly because of his hushed tone.

you shook your head. your head was tilted back, eyes staring up at the ceiling but not truly seeing. you were worried sick— you and soap were the only ones who’d made it to the safe house so far. the others should’ve beaten you there, and now they were over an hour late.

“bonnie, ‘m sure they’re alrigh’,” he told you, poking the needle through skin. you barely felt it, too hyped up on fear and adrenaline.

“they should’ve beaten us here, y’know that—” you began, but he tutted, quickly cutting you off.

“cannae think like tha’, bonnie. they’ll be here any second, aye?”

he stops his stitching, his face tilting up and away from your leg. you faintly register the feeling of his eyes on you.

you felt lost— floating in sea of numbness. your mind is mulling over the millions of possibilities— possibilities in which they never return.

you’d never felt this way before, and the five of you had endured far worse.

the only thing that was different this time was the fact that you and simon were together. you’d never explicitly told the rest of the task force, but they knew.

johnny knew why you were so worked up. he understood.

he reaches a hand up, his dirtied fingers lightly tilting your chin down so you’re face to face.

“y’there?” he asks, his hand dropping from your chin. he moves to squeeze one of your hands, pulling you back down to the ground.

you give a small nod, fingers moving to intertwine with his. he smiles— not his usual playful expression, but a true, grateful, relieved smile.

“im here,” you tell him. he releases your hand, pulling away from your skin, giving your hand a light pat before fully retreating.

“‘m almost finished, yeah? then I’ll go lookin’—”

“no need.”

it’s kyle, breathing heavily as he shuffles into the room. price and ghost are right on his heels, the three men making the room feel much smaller than it did a moment ago.

“you two good?” kyle asks, a small frown on his lips as he takes note of your bloodied leg.

you nod, your eyes flitting from gaz, to price, to simon— who is now moving towards you. he crouches down so he’s eye level with you. you meet his gaze, and although he doesn’t say it, you know what he’s thinking.

he’s relieved, and it’s a deeper relief than usual. it’s heavier, more profound, because he’s started to let you in. you’re more than teammates now, and it doesn’t truly hit ghost until this moment.

“im good,” you tell him quietly. he nods, glances down at where johnny is tying off your stitches.

johnny must notice ghost’s stare, because he breaks his focus and looks up at his lieutenant with a cheeky smirk.

“no worries, LT. made sure to do ma best work,” he grins and shoots the other man a wink, to which ghost grunts, unamused.

the heavy weight of a palm on your shoulder breaks you from the memory. you move without thinking, bloodied fist swinging as you whirl around to attack whoever laid a hand on you.

then you remember— soap.

johnny narrowly dodges your assault, his eyes widened as your fist barely clips him.

“steamin’ jesus!” he speaks, throwing his hands up in surrender and taking a step back from you.

“i was jus’ tryin’ to make sure ya were alrigh’! yer bleedin’, bonnie.”

you blink as you slowly escape your stupor. you’d completely lost yourself in the memory, and you didn’t know why.

probably because your brain was trying to comfort itself the only way it knew how— by seeking comfort from the people closest to you.

old habits, right?

old fucking habits.

“don’t touch me,” you seethe, eyes narrowing as you glare at the scot. he frowns, bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything.

like a kicked puppy. you can’t help but feel sympathetic before you wrestle that feeling back down. he wasn’t sympathetic for you— why should you be for him?

you look at him for a moment longer, taking in his appearance. he looks fine, and that angers you just the slightest bit more.

“look, i— i ken we really messed up, and sorry cannae fix tha’, but please, bonnie. a’least let us try—”

“I don’t owe you anything, mactavish.” you told him, gaze cold as you met his eyes. “and you’re right, sorry can’t fix it. nothing can fix it; so, stop trying.” you step forward, raising a hand as you point a finger into his chest.

“the four of you need to leave me the fuck alone. frankly, I couldn’t care less about how the four of you feel. about how he feels. you did what you did, believed what you believed, and now you have to live with that.”

johnny’s frown deepens as his eyes glance down at the finger you’ve got digging into his sternum.

“you deserve to feel like shit,” you tell him. “and anything you feel— how sorry you are— just know that I suffered a hundred times more in that chair, locked up in that room. so the next time you wanna watch me from outside the infirmary, or you wanna put your fucking hands on me,” your jaw is clenched, fire licking at your veins as you speak to him.

“remember what you did. remember that nothing can fix it. remember that you’re dead to me— all of you are— and that I never would’ve let that happen to any of you.”

“and I hope it hurts like hell, mactavish. I hope it eats you alive, and that you never find peace because you don’t deserve it.”

you drop your hand, your eyes still on his.

“and I hope you tell the rest of them I said that. especially him.”

you turn then, take a steadying breath, and keep walking.

soap watches you go without another word.

“that was stupid,” the doctor chastises you, her lips pressed into a thin line as she examines your knuckles.

“you blatantly went against my one rule for you. I shouldn’t have even let you out of bed, but you’re too damn stubborn! so I thought I’d give you some grace, but there you go— leaving my iv pole in the hall. bloodying your knuckles. I should let one of the newbies patch you up,” she grumbles, her gloved hands cool against your skin.

over the time you’d spent in the infirmary, you and the doctor had formed an odd bond. it was almost as if you were friends, but she always kept things strictly professional.

but you’d catch her giving you sad glances sometimes. you knew she was upset for you, angry for you, but she would never speak on it. that was okay with you.

it was enough to know that someone was on your side.

“sorry, doc. it’s not like it was planned,” you tell her, and her eyes flick up to meet yours. the look on your face told her everything she needed to know.

she didn’t push the topic. instead, she finished patching you up in silence. wrapping your knuckles in bandages, she gave them one last once-over before sending you on your way.

“kicking me out?” you asked her, raising your eyebrows.

she nodded, her eyes scanning the chart in her hands.

“if you’re okay enough to throw a punch, i think you’re okay enough to return to your quarters. unless you want to stay,” she says, and its unspoken, but you know what she’s implying.

unless you want to stay behind that door, guarded from the 141. unless you don’t want to go back to your quarters and see it as you’d left it before they’d tied you up.

unless it would be too painful to leave.

you shook your head. “im good. thank you, doc. really.”

the doctor gave a small smile and nodded. “of course. you’re due back in a week for a check up, alright? I need to check on those bruises and mending bones.”

you nod and give her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “wouldn’t miss it.”

she bids you goodbye before turning and disappearing behind a white curtain. you inhale deeply before heading for the door.

when you step into the hallway, it’s quiet. you pass through base with relative ease, quickly slipping past anyone you come across in the halls.

you don’t see any of the 141, and you’re grateful. you couldn’t handle another interaction with them today— and you didn’t know how much longer you could remain civil.

once you reached your door, you pushed into the dusty darkness of the room. it’d been a while since you’d been in here, and although you were glad to finally be free of the smell and sounds of the infirmary, you weren’t particularly happy to be back in this room.

this room, which was down the hall from the rest of the 141.

this room, which held memorabilia of your time with your team.

this room, which you swore still smelled like simon.

you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stop thinking about him. he was fucking everywhere, and you were starting to believe you’d never be free of him and the 141.

your memories. your pain. your scars. no matter how much you healed and moved on from what happened, it would always be there in the back of your mind. it would sneak up on you when you least expected it; it would haunt your dreams at night.

it would leave you waking up screaming for mercy.

it would keep you untrusting for the years to come.

you flicked on the light and scanned the room. it had been upended, clothes strewn across the floor and picture frames shattered.

in the midst of it all, a vase of long dead flowers sits atop your desk.

there’s a little note hanging off the vase. against your better judgement, you reach for it. the paper feels scratchy against your fingers, and the scribbled pencil inside seems the tiniest bit faded.

your eyes scan the note.

‘You were right.

Hope you can understand.’

— sr

you pick up the vase and throw it against the wall. glass shatters. dead flowers fall to the floor.

your knees give out and you crumple to the floor, sitting amidst reminders of once was.

you let yourself cry for the first time in a while.

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Toji + Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face-fucking + sitting - clitoral play - double penetration; anal & penetration - reverse cowgirl + missionary (fusion?) dp positions - spitting - pet names (baby, mama, princess, pumpkin, sweetpea) - mention of drool/spit and tears.

Nothing beats the feeling of your husbands, Nanami and Toji, taking turns spoiling you rotten. Nothing but utterly raw skin-to-skin action with the two hands and sweat cascading on every skin of your body left untouched, and your lips barely keep your moans locked to your throat. The neighborhood may be sound asleep, yet that atmosphere is entirely different within the heat of this master bedroom.

Your face is glued to Nanami as he kisses you, pillowy lips taste his old, favorite scotch, same with the tongue flaying around with yours until he sucks on it to have you mewl so alluringly. “Mmm…hey, sweetpea.” He coos with his half-lidded mocha gaze warming you, straightening his posture on his knees as the glans of his cock meet your lips. And your mouth instantly waters as you suck him in with hallowed cheeks.

Meanwhile, Toji sits right underneath you, his face buried in between your thighs, scarred lips peppering your wetness with slow, lazy kisses that have you whimpering on Nanami’s shaft. The older man’s tongue burrows between your folds, groaning at the sense of you on his tastebuds, slurping anything and everything the muscle can get. And his nose bumps onto your clit, your muffled shrill music to his ears. “Fuck, mama, smell so good…taste too fucking good…”

So fucking sticky — that’s how you’re feeling at this moment. Your lips were coated with your spit, pooling over and painting around the blonde’s shaft. This pace of his hips quickens with haste, speed growing to where he gives in and fucks your face. Wails are muffled, and you submit to him with every hit to the back of your throat. God, he looks so disarranged, his golden locks not kept in their tidy form, sweat gleaming from the ceiling lights, and chocolate eyes scanning your face stuffed with his cock. He titters, watching you suck him off so eagerly, and rewards you with more ruts to spill your saliva down to your chin.

Jesus fucking Christ, Toji’s moans as he eats you from below are to die for, feeling his voice of pleasure reverberate from your insides. The raven-headed man has no desire to let you go, his firm hands on your thighs to keep you on him. “Oh, don’t do that,” he licks your clit sluggishly after pulling you back onto his tongue. “No runnin’ ‘way fr’m me, princess…” Your lower half can’t help but motion to ride on his muscle, and your husband contentedly sucks your labia until you shudder.

There’s too much going on at once – your lips are puffy and hot from the hits of Nanami’s pelvis drilling into your mouth, while Toji has your legs trembling with a mere flick of his tongue, evoking screams that are felt on Nanami’s cock. “Mmmff, mmph!” Shit, this is too much! Your head pounds because of the fair-haired one, and the dark-haired other makes your eyes crawl upwards. I’m gonna cum…!

“Haahh, ohhh, ohhhhshiiiit, I’m gonna cummm!”

“Hnnffuuck, I can tell…! Squeezing my dick like crazy, pumpkin…”

Your legs wrap around Nanami’s waist as he rocks into you. As the hour goes on, your body goes numb to the overstimulating sensations your husbands bestow on you — so drunk off them using their little wife like a fucktoy. Your swollen cunt, full of Toji’s semen and your wetness, is now being pumped by Nanami’s dick. Pistoning his length until his balls profound, excess substances seep down to the crevice of your ass. All the while, Toji is under you, his girth stuffing your asshole.

“Fuck, so tight,” Nanami curses, strands of his hair now stick to his forehead. “Trying to milk me dry, baby?”

“Heh, they’re doin’ the same here,” Toji snaps his hips concurrently with the other husband, rushed dicks brushing your walls too good you gasp. “Hm, ya want me to fill this nice ass of y’rs, too, baby? Bust my whole load like I did to y’r pussy?” He sneers at the twitch of your ass puckering, embarrassed to hear his words, yet your body can’t suppress the excitement. “Well, at least your body is honest enough; so needy for y’r husbands’ cocks, huh.”

You turn your face away from his. “Don’t say—ohoo!–say…” 

A hand from your fondled chest comes up to snatch your chin. “Heh, what’re ya shy fr’?” Toji kisses and chews on your bottom lip until you whimper, shoving and exchanging tongues with blissful moans. It isn’t long before Nanami bends down to peck your cheek, claiming your lips immediately after Toji lets go. 

“Hey, sweetpea, open for me.” Words you follow, your mouth opening for him to spit, drool falling gracefully down from one tongue to another before Nanami slams his face into yours, the rhythm of his hips increasing from the sound of your yelps being taken by his mouth.

Nanami kisses you passionately, hot air puffing from brushed noses and lips smacking, and Toji whistles at the sight. “Hot as hell…” Toji lays his lips on your neck and cheeks as his hands keep groping your chest, rutting up to your ass aimlessly, along with the blonde’s cadence.

Once again, senses are pulled into overdrive. Your body and nerves are too sore and keen from constant pleasure, tears threatening to streak from your eyes as Toji sneaks two fingers to please your clitoris. Wailing aloud into your husband’s mouth, you succumb to the climb of your crescendo, and it rattles your frame to the core. Both holes contract with each hit of your orgasm, causing the men to groan merrily and lock into your climax until tranquility. A few more rough thrusts to your clamping entrances, and they soon fall into their respective orgasm. 

Nanami breaks away from the kiss, spit breaking the connection while he removes his dick from you, and the spurt of his semen falling out with it, trailing from your hole and spilling to your ass still plunged with Toji. “Ahhh, you’re a mess,” he comments with a smile, rubbing your cheeks. 

And Toji sniggers in agreement. “Don’t hear ‘em complaining, though,” he brings your face to his to kiss. “Right, mama?”

You sigh into his lips with a simper. And as warm bodies and sticky skin relax and cool down, nothing beats the feeling of being spoiled by your husbands. 

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad deserves better than Belly. After he sees Jere and her kiss, he get his ass to Stanford and meet this cute and smart maybe tutor girl (Haley James style) and falls in love with her and then they show up at Jere's wedding years later and Belly is jelly

I've spent the last five days working on this one.

p.s. it's 2k words...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Conrad finished his exam, he went back to Jeremiah and Belly. He was going to tell and confess his love to her before she had to get home, but when he got to his car, the scene Conrad walked on made him sick to his stomach: Belly and Jeremiah were full on making out against his car. He stopped short of the car and cleared his throat, causing the two to spring apart from their heated kiss and see Conrad looking right at them. 

Conrad’s face was white. He would rather have had someone shoot him in the head with a nail gun, repeatedly, than have to watch the two of them kissing.

He didn't know who he was more angry at. Belly, who, not even a day ago, had told him she would have fought harder for him if she knew he loved her that much. Or Jeremiah, who, although he knew how much Belly meant to his brother and how fucking in love he was with her, seized the opportunity to kiss Belly the moment he was alone with her.

‘’Conrad—’’ Belly started, guilt settling in her guts. 

He cut her off, his voice cold and cutting. ‘’I don’t want to hear it.’’ 

His gaze shifted from Belly to Jeremiah. There was so much hate in his eyes. How could Jere do that to him? They agreed to stop hiding things from each other and talk, but Jeremiah must have forgotten already. 

‘’You broke up with her, Con, remember? We did nothing wrong,’’ Jeremiah said, pulling facts in his favor to make himself feel better — less guilty — for kissing his brother’s ex.  

When Conrad kissed Belly on the beach last summer, he didn’t know she and Jeremiah were a thing — if he could call it that — or that he liked her. If he had, he wouldn’t have kissed Belly or confessed his feelings to her. Had the situation had been in reverse, Conrad wasn’t sure Jeremiah would have backed off. 

‘’I’m done.’’ Conrad's voice was resolute, his heart heavy as he turned away, unable to bear the sight of them any longer.

Jeremiah moved to follow, calling out Conrad's name. He didn’t stop, needing to be as far as possible from the painful scene. His mind was racing with a jumble of emotions. Anger, betrayal, and a profound hurt gnawed at him. He had trusted both Belly and Jeremiah, yet they pulled this shit behind his back. 

‘’Why do you always have to act like that?’’ Jeremiah said as he quickened his pace to catch up. 

Finally, Conrad turned to face Jeremiah, his expression a mix of sorrow and resentment. ‘’You don’t get to tell me how to react, Jere. You kiss the girl I love outside my school, against my car while she’s wearing my sweatshirt. If you don’t see how disgusting and messed up it all sounds—’’

‘’She kissed me,’’ the younger one quickly defended. 

 Hearing this made him want to pack his bags, get his ass to stanford and focus on school. He needed to turn the Belly page, and in order to do that, he needed to be away from both she and Jeremiah. California seemed far enough, right?

*

The first days and weeks were tough for Conrad, struggling to accept the definite end of the relationship. She was still all over him like a wine-stained shirt he couldn’t wear anymore. 

He blocked both Belly and Jeremiah’ numbers. If he wanted to move on, he had to keep his distance from them. For a while, at least. Then, he deleted all the old pictures he kept of Belly on his phone. There was no going back for them anymore. 

He was done.

*

You met Conrad a little before Christmas break. Just like those cliché rom-coms, you walked right into him and spilled your chai latte all over his sweater. You wanted to break the cliché and not fall for the victim of your clumsiness, but after one look into those beautiful blue eyes, you knew it would be impossible. 

 After that day, you kept crossing paths around campus and, one afternoon, you asked him out. He was so surprised, but he said ‘yes’. 

Although you had sealed the end of the night with a few kisses, you decided to take things slow. You had a very busy schedule with the tutoring lessons on top of your regular program, and Conrad was unsure if it was too soon to get in another relationship, if he was ready for it. The scar Belly had left on his heart was healing, but was he ready to open his heart to someone again? 

‘’Have you ever been in love?’’ you asked one night in his dorm while studying. 

Your question had caught Conrad off guard. It was visible on his face. 

‘’Have you?’’ he returned, not taking his eyes off his textbook. 

He was trying to dodge the question. 

‘’I asked you first,’’ you said, seeing through his plan.

‘’Then yes.’’

‘’How many times?’’

‘’Once.’’

His answers were flat, annoyed he was by all your questions. He wished you would stop and get back to studying in silence, but you kept going. 

‘’On a scale of one to ten, how in love were you?’’

‘’You can’t put being in love on a scale,’’ he said, lifting his head with furrowed eyebrows. ‘’Either you are or you aren’t.’’

‘’But if you had to say.’’

Conrad started flipping through his notes. He hadn’t thought of Belly in months. He missed her — in a different way he used to. She was his friend before they got tangled into this mess.

He didn’t look at you when he finally said it. ‘’Ten.’’

*

The more time he spent in your presence, the more Conrad was — unknowingly — letting go of his past. 

The pictures he deleted months ago became pictures of you, filling his phone until there was no space left. The smell of your perfume lingered on some of his clothes and in his car. He had your coffee order memorized, along with your favorite study-break snack, which he made sure to have in stock in his dorm. 

You became part of his routine — part of his life —, brightening his days even on his darkest, saddest nights. 

He didn’t want to bother you, but nothing was calming the ache in his chest. He tried getting some air and smoking weed, he even thought of calling Laurel, but it was almost 2am in Pennsylvania. Conrad didn’t want to scare her. 

So he pulled up your contact and called, the weight of his grief still heavy in his heart, wishing Susannah was still there. He couldn't believe a full year had gone by since she took her last breath. 

You were about to slip into bed when you saw his name flashing on your phone. You almost didn’t pick up, but you got a gut feeling that he needed you. 

When you opened your door, a saddened look was etched onto Conrad's face, his beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight pulled at your heart and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him for the whole night.

Supported each other through finals and all-nighters.

‘’Getting tired?’’ you said, catching him actively fighting against his own eyelids. 

Conrad shook his head, taking a long gulp of his coffee. ‘’No time for sleep. I have this huge exam first thing tomorrow and I still have a lot of chapters to cover.’’

‘’You can take a short nap if you want. I’ll wake you in thirty minutes,’’ you kindly offered, flipping through your notes for a specific annotation. 

‘’Nah, I’m good.’’ He flashed you a soft smile, then returned to his studying. 

A few minutes later, and you couldn't help but notice that Conrad's eyes had begun to droop. They would halfway close and then he would either blink a bunch of times, or widen his eyes until they were bug eyed. It was cute.

‘’Con? Conrad?’’ you called out gently. 

‘’I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes,’’ he mumbled defensively, fighting fatigue.

There was no way he was getting through the night, so you put your notes down and slipped on Conrad’s flannel shirt that was on the back of your chair to shield you from the night air. ‘’We’re gonna need more coffee.’’ 

As you came back with two fresh cups of coffee, you found Conrad fast asleep on your pillow, still clutching his pen.

And held his hand through the rainiest times — literally.

‘’Isn't California supposed to be the sunniest state?’’ Conrad asked, watching the downpour through the windshield, drenched from head to toe. ‘’The seats are all wet...’’ 

‘’You gotta learn to live with the consequences of your own actions, Connie baby.’’ 

It was his idea to get waffles when the sky was looking very gray and angry. He insisted that it would clear out, but a loud clap of thunder echoed on your way back to the car and rain started pouring. You took the road back to campus, but it got too dangerous, forcing Conrad to stop the car on the shoulder of the road and wait for the rain to calm. 

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie and a smile curled on Conrad’s lips, still the most beautiful to his eyes despite your wet hair and the slight smear of mascara under your eyes. 

 ‘’Rain happens everywhere. Even in the dryest desert,’’ you reminded him, pulling out your phone to check the weather app.‘’Unfortunately, this one isn't gonna stop anytime soon.’’

You toed off your sneakers, making Conrad draw his eyebrows.

‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’We’re gonna be here for a while.’’ You peeled off your hoodie — also wet from the rain —, leaving you in your skirt and dainty bralette. ‘’Might as well occupy ourselves,’’ you explained before leaning over the middle console and kissing him, fastening yourself to him with a stitch. 

The kiss took him by surprise, but he wasn’t complaining. He could spend hours kissing you and never get bored. 

You crawled over the console and on Conrad’s lap without breaking contact, your hands easily finding grip on his hair as you felt his hands all over your body, caressing and pulling. The windows were fogging quickly around you, creating a veil of privacy as more layers were peeled off.

Conrad once believed he had found love, that Belly was it for him, but the feelings he felt back then were nothing compared to how he felt right now. 

‘’You’re the best thing that happened to me,’’ he confessed, his forehead pressed against yours. 

*

The invitation came in a few weeks before the wedding. Conrad couldn’t believe his brother was going through with this. Everything was happening so fast and seemed rushed. Him and Belly weren’t even twenty. Who gets married so young anymore? 

He arrived in Cousins a few days prior to the wedding, surprising everyone — and stealing the attention from the soon-to-be-weds — when they saw a girl with him. 

The only person who knew exactly who you were was Steven. A few months ago, you had posted a picture with Conrad at the beach and tagged him, leading to Steven finding out about his friend’s new girlfriend. He was surprised when he saw it, but very happy for Conrad. He deserved better than someone who plays between two hearts. 

Laurel put down the table-center she was holding and went over to pull Conrad in a hug. She turned to you, making quick introductions, and Conrad held his breath. He’s always been close to Laurel and her approval meant more to him than his father’s or Jeremiah’s. 

While the two of you engaged into a conversation, he saw her. Belly. Dressed in a white sundress and talking to Taylor, she looked just the same. The only difference was, Conrad felt nothing. No pain, no old feelings rising back. 

For the first time, what’s past was past.

‘’Belly, come greet Connie and his girlfriend,’’ Laurel called out to her daughter. 

Although you had never met her, you could tell exactly who she was in the room — and not only because her dress was white. The jealousy filling her eyes when they fell on you gave her away.

—

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[springtyme]

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 ♡

Dad!Simon will never leave my mind, I fear 😔

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Simon comes home to the most importent people in his world, the suns of his universe.

word count: 2.2k

note: Just Simon being the best dad and loving his family so, so, so much. Mom!reader. No use of y/n.

As he reaches the front door of your shared home, Simon feels the weight of the day bearing down on him. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows, and he pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath to shake off the fatigue that clings to him like a thick fog. 

Simon, pushes open the door and steps into the warm, familiar space, his work boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He calls out to announce his arrival as he toes off his boots, first your name, and then your daughter’s, even though she is still way too young to respond to it, but he doesn’t get a response. He first checks the living room and then the kitchen, but the house is quiet, the usual sounds of giggles and playful shrieks absent. A hint of worry pools in his stomach, which he knows is ridiculous, but he of all people should be allowed to be overprotective. 

He walks back out in the hallway, feeling a sense of relief as he hears a muffled giggle from upstairs. The sound washes over him like a balm, and he can’t help but smile, knowing that whatever mischief is brewing, it’s likely harmless. He heads up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps resonates softly beneath his feet. 

As he pads down the hallway, the familiar sound of giggles floats from the nursery, and the melody of laughter pulls him closer. His heart swells with affection for the little life you’ve created together—a tiny whirlwind of joy who is now at the centre of his world. He pauses outside the door, where light filters in, softening everything it touches.

Peering through the half-open door, Simon catches sight of you sitting on the floor surrounded by soft toys. Your little baby girl, who lies on her padded play mat in front of you, has her eyes fixed on her mother, her eyes wide sparkling with wonder. The sunlight dances across her tiny features, highlighting the delicate curve of her chubby cheeks and the soft wisps of baby hair that frame her face.

His heart swells with a feeling so profound that it almost takes his breath away, a deep-rooted sense of responsibility to protect this happiness and nurture the sparkle in her eyes. Simon knows just how easily the world can dull that shine, and he is determined to shield her from it, just as you have always shielded him whenever his mind goes to darker places. 

Simon is sure that she is going to grow up to become your little mini me. She is already looking so much like you. Her smile, the colour of her hair, even her laugh, it all reminds him of you in every possible way. 

Simon is never going to forget the first time he heard her laugh—it was like music to his ears, a sweet, innocent sound that filled the room with warmth and joy. He can still recall the way her giggles floated through the air as you played with her, your gentle voice coaxing bubbles of laughter from her tiny body. 

Each time she smiles, it’s as if the sun breaks through the clouds, illuminating not only her face but the entire room, just like the way you illuminate his life. She really looks more and more like you everyday. But she has his eyes. The same shape and shade of brown. His mother’s eyes. Sometimes it is as looking into a mirror, his own eyes reflected back at him on her little precious face. 

He remembers the look on your face when you first noticed it. Your eyes were shining with happy tears, and your face was glowing like a little sun as you looked at your daughter and then up at him, exclaiming, “She has your eyes, Si,” like it was the most beautiful revelation in the world.

As Simon leans against the doorframe, he feels a rush of warmth spread through him, filling him with a mix of pride and gratitude. This is his family, the life you have built together, laughter and love echoing from every wall of your home. He takes a moment to commit the scene to memory—the way you are playfully tickling your daughter, you both lost in your own world of giggles and coos, the shared glances that speak volumes of understanding and love. 

The little girl lets out a happy shriek as she reaches out, grasping at a plush giraffe, you’re holding up in front of her, slightly shaking to make her laugh even more, her tiny fingers curling around its fabric as if it holds the secrets of the universe. He can’t help but smile softly to himself, imagining the way the world must seem to her—so big and full of wonder, yet safe and warm in the presence of her mother.

She lets out another string of laughter, her delighted squeals echoing through the room and wrapping around Simon like a warm hug. It’s a sound that feels almost ethereal, a reminder of the purest joys in life that exist in these fleeting moments. 

The little shriek your daughter let out ended in a distinct ‘mmmah’ sound. She is still so young that it most likely was nothing more than a coincidence, and Simon knows that you know that, but your face still light up with delight. “Oh, baby, are you trying to say mama?” 

The little girl just laughs in response, her innocent giggles filling the air as she clutches the toy giraffe tightly to her chest, her small body bouncing with unrestrained joy. Each squeal and laugh sends ripples of happiness through the room.

“Mmmm-a,” you coo, your voice melodic and encouraging. “Can you say that, sweet girl? Ma-ma.” 

Your voice, so nurturing and full of enthusiasm, reverberates in his heart, bringing forth a flood of emotion. It’s as if love itself is floating in the atmosphere around you. Your daughter doesn’t try to repeat the sound but you don’t seem to care, you just keep smiling and cooing down at your little bundle of joy. 

The laughter and warmth radiating from the room feels like a tangible thing, wrapping around him like a soft blanket. He wonders if you realise just how much you both illuminate the lives of those around you. There is something profoundly beautiful about the connection you share with your daughter—an effortless bond that seems to flow seamlessly between you, a dance of love that only the two of you could have choreographed together. Even though he could stay here and watch the two of you all day, utterly lost in your own little universe, a world woven from giggles, joy, and affection, the pull of his own role in that dynamic becomes too strong and he can’t hold himself back any longer.

Simon steps quietly into the room, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs, and you look up at him, eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrors the laughter echoing around them. 

“Si!” you exclaim, your voice a blend of surprise and delight as you redirect your attention toward him. The little girl, sensing her father’s presence, brightens even more, her face transforming into a beaming smile that could rival the sun. 

Simon steps over to the two of you, dropping to the floor beside you both, his left knee creaking a little in protest, but it doesn’t matter in the least. The soft sound of your laughter draws his attention back to you, your face radiant with joy. The baby’s eyes light up at the sight of him, and she reaches out, her small hands waving excitedly in his direction. For a heartbeat, the world falls away, and it’s just the three of you—anchored in this moment of pure love.

He watches you, how your eyes dance with delight as you pick up your daughter, and it strikes him anew just how lucky he is to have this—this life and this love.

“Look who’s here!” you exclaim, your voice wrapping around Simon like a tender embrace. The little girl’s gaze shifts from you to Simon, her bright eyes shining with recognition. She leans forward, dropping the plush giraffe to reach for him, her tiny hands outstretched as if she knows he holds the key to an infinite source of comfort and safety. 

“Hey there, little lady!” Simon beams, his heart swelling with love as you hand her over so he can take her in his arms. She giggles, a sound that fills the room with warmth as she nestles against his shoulder, her soft hair brushing against his cheek. The scent of baby soap and a hint of something uniquely her—pure and sweet—wraps around him, grounding him in this moment.

As he holds her close, he glances up at you, your face glowing with that unmistakable maternal warmth. You watch with adoration as father and daughter share this moment—a bond that seems both ancient and brand new. Your eyes meet with a knowing smile, an unspoken language shared between the two of you, one that speaks of dreams and shared hopes for your child.

“Did you two have fun while I was gone?” Simon asks, his voice light and playful.

“We did, but we missed dada, didn’t we princess?” you reply, your voice softening as you stroke the little girl’s head. 

“I missed you too,” Simon responds, the four words don’t feel quite sufficient to express the depth of his feelings, even after only a few hours away from the two of you feels like eternity sometimes. He has not been away for longer periods of time since your daughter was born, and the day he has to go on longer deployments again is a thought he tries to push to the back of his mind. Simon wants to savour this moment, the laughter, the joy, the warmth of family, before the inevitable separations that come with his work. 

He gently shifts his gaze back to his little girl, who coos softly in his arms, her tiny hands grasping at the collar of his hoodie as if trying to pull him even closer. The innocence in her eyes captivates him, a mirror reflecting the joy and hope he feels in this precious moment. As he bounces her gently, he can’t help but marvel at the sheer beauty of her being—a blend of both of you, encapsulated in this tiny, giggling bundle.

“Look at you, all smiles and sunshine,” he says, his voice filled with warmth, as he feels the weight of her trust in the way she snuggles against him. 

Her eyes widen at the sound of his voice, and she lets out another series of delighted shrieks that echo through the room, joyful and free. As he revels in her laughter, he feels the world outside fall away, replaced by this crystalline moment of connection—a fleeting piece of eternity. 

He adjusts his grip on her so that he only needs one arm to hold her and in a way that she is cradled more comfortably against his chest, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushing against her delicate skin. 

“Come here,” he urges, reaching out for you with his free arm, beckoning you to join in on this tender embrace. You scoot over to his side, and Simon wraps his arm around you, tugging you into his side as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

Your warmth against him reinforces the sense of belonging that fills the room. The three of you, intertwined in a cocoon of laughter and love, create an unbreakable bond that feels eternal. The little girl giggles again, a sound that reverberates through Simon’s heart, as he feels the gentle rhythm of your breaths mingling with hers.

Watching you both, he marvels at the way life has unfolded, how simple moments like this felt like something he would never get to experience. “You two are my everything,” he murmurs, his voice deep but soft, wrapping around the words like a protective embrace.

Your head lifts slightly, and you share a smile—the kind that speaks volumes, filled with understanding and shared aspirations. “And you are ours,” you reply, your voice echoing the sentiment with warmth and assurance. The honesty in your gaze meets his, reaffirming the commitment you both share to nurture this little one and build a loving home.

Simon’s heart swells at the sight of you, the way you effortlessly weave joy and comfort into your daughter’s life. He brushes his thumb across her forehead, marvelling at how perfect she is, how much she represents both of you. “I can’t believe she’s growing so fast,” he says, humour lacing his tone. “Feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home.”

You nod, your eyes misty with nostalgia as you watch your little girl.

He leans down slightly, giving your daughter a gentle kiss on the top of her head before kissing your forehead as well, letting his lips linger there for a moment, savouring the connection you all share. He holds the both of you a little closer. It’s a moment suspended in time where everything feels just right. The two of you are the most important people in his world, the sun of his universe, and in this instant, he knows that no matter what lies ahead, this love will always be his anchor.

Thank you for reading! ♡ if you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging

[v6quewrlds]

❝ sky full of stars, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe's a big space nerd. you're a big space nerd. it's a match made in space nerd heaven.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: literally laid awake last night thinking about this. decided to write it during my lecture. short and sweet but i love writing joe in love. suppressing the urge to cite my sources on this lol. ty to wikipedia's black holes article <3 also don't worry y'all will still get a game day fic on sunday 🙂‍↕️

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: science talk, general cheesiness.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x nasa engineer!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 1k.

Your eyes scanned the living room, your gaze lingering on the framed LSU jersey hanging on the wall. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you thought of Joe's insistence on displaying his pride so prominently in his Cincinnati home. Despite his celebrity status, he remained as down-to-earth as the day the two of you met eight months ago, a quality you cherished deeply.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet room as the documentary's narrator droned on about black holes. Joe's breathing grew even and steady, his head comfortably nestled in your lap. You felt his hand twitch in his half-sleep, his thumb brushing against your thigh through the fabric of your shorts. You gently stroked his hair, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Your thoughts drifted to the upcoming mission you were helping to prepare at the Johnson Space Center. The excitement of possibly making more discoveries on your Mars probe was palpable, and you couldn't wait to get back to Houston. Yet, here you were, feeling more content than ever, with a man you never thought you’d end up with. The rhythmic beat of Joe's heart against your palm was a reminder of the love the two of you had found amidst your two dramatically different lives.

You leaned back, your hand still cradling Joe's head, and refocused on the documentary. The TV screen flickered with images of stars, galaxies, and cosmic phenomena that you knew so well from your work, yet seeing them here, in Joe's home, made them feel so much more profound.

“So, how do black holes, like, eat stars?” Joe’s sleepy voice interrupted the silence. His eyes remained closed, but his mind was clearly still processing the information he had been hearing.

“It’s not so much that they eat stars, but rather they have such intense gravitational pull that nothing can escape them, not even light,” You explained, your voice a soothing murmur. You felt Joe’s head shift slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, it’s like a cosmic vacuum cleaner?” He mumbled, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the room. “In a way, yes. But a vacuum cleaner you definitely don’t want to get too close to. Once something enters a black hole, it’s gone forever.”

Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. “How can something be that powerful?” His gaze was earnest, the curiosity in his eyes warming your heart.

“It’s all about the mass and gravity. When a star dies and collapses, it can become so dense that its gravity is just too much for anything to resist. Not even light can escape, which is why we call them black holes. They’re like the universe’s trapdoor.” Your voice was soft, your eyes shining with the same enthusiasm that had captured Joe’s attention when you’d first described your job to him.

Joe nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV screen. His fingers twined with yours, and you felt a gentle squeeze. “And what happens when something does fall in?” His question was genuine, his curiosity a bridge between your worlds.

“Well, we think that anything that gets too close gets stretched out like spaghetti. But before that, it passes the point of no return, gravity gets so intense that it bends time and space itself. It’s like nothing we can truly imagine.” Your words painted a vivid picture in the quiet room, your voice a mix of wonder and knowledge.

“You’re like nothing I could truly imagine. You’re like my own black hole, pulling me in with your brilliance every day.” Joe’s words were a gentle whisper, his blue eyes opening to find yours, a warmth that didn’t quite match the cosmic chaos on the screen.

Your heart fluttered. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Heisman.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead, your smile tender. The room felt smaller, the universe’s mysteries forgotten as the two of your shared a moment of quiet intimacy.

The documentary played on, but your attention had shifted. Joe’s hand found yours again, fingers interlocking. He pulled himself up, dirty blonde hair messy from rest, eyes squinting in the light. “You know I’m going to keep asking questions until I understand everything you do, right?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Joey. You know I love talking about this stuff with you.” Your voice was filled with affection as you reached for the remote and paused the documentary. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV, the only light source in the otherwise darkened space.

Joe sat up, his hand still holding yours. He leaned in, your eyes locking for a brief moment before your lips met in a gentle kiss that grew in passion. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you shifted on the couch to face him. Your kisses grew deeper, a silent declaration of your love and appreciation for one another’s differences and shared moments of wonder.

As you pulled apart, Joe whispered, “You know, I still can’t believe you agreed to go out with me. A guy who throws a football for a living asking out a NASA engineer.” His self-deprecation made you laugh again, the sound music to his ears. “Still not sure why you’re with me.”

“Why not?” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Joe. And you’re incredibly good at what you do. Maybe not launching rockets, but you have your own kind of rocket science going on out there on the field.”

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. “You always know what to say to boost my ego.”

“I’ll say whatever it takes to get me ahead of Ja’Marr in your heart,” you teased with a laugh, leaning forward to steal another kiss from his pink lips. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joe’s arms tightened around you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I don’t know, he’s pretty good at catching my throws.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at catching your heart, so I think we’re even,” you quipped back, your eyes sparkling with love and amusement.

Joe’s chuckle grew louder, the sound rumbling through the room like thunder. He leaned back, pulling you with him until you were lying on top of him, your legs draped over his. “You definitely win that title, babe. No contest.”

Your smile never left your face as you looked down at him. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You felt his heartbeat beneath you, a steady drum that matched the rhythm of your own. The air between the two of you was electric, the kind of charge that could spark a star into existence.

[cece693]

Bet (Klaus Mikaelson x M! Reader)

Summary: Thanks to your brothers, all you knew about the Mikaelson family was that they were dangerous and threatened your livelihood. However, when you're saved by the hybrid himself, he poses a bet to change your mind or be given insight into the cure.

link to part two

You paced the old parlor of the Salvatore boarding house, frustration bubbling inside you like an unwelcome storm. Damon had been shouting in your ear again, his usual rant about the Mikaelsons’ supposed evil nature still echoing off the walls. He was adamant: the Originals were nothing but a death sentence waiting to happen, and you needed to steer clear of them.

Stefan, meanwhile, had taken his usual route, trying to appeal to your emotional side. He claimed your search for the cure was pointless, a dangerous fantasy you needed to abandon. His eyes had softened, his voice dropping to that earnest tone he reserved for when he was about to say something ‘profound.’

“It’s over,” he’d said. “What we did centuries ago, what happened to you…it was for the best. We’re a family now.”

You'd barely managed to stifle your scoff. A family, he said. Easy for him to preach about family when he and Damon had been content to let Katherine turn them. You, on the other hand, had been set to marry Emily, a kind-hearted girl from town. All that was ripped away when your brothers decided to drag you into their mess, condemning you to an eternity you never asked for. You had lost everything. You hadn't chosen this life; it had been forced upon you.

“Look, little brother,” Damon had warned earlier that night, his eyes darkening as they flickered to yours, a flash of genuine concern slipping past his usual bravado. “Stay away from Klaus. He’s not the kind of enemy you can afford to make.”

“Damon, I’m not stupid,” you’d retorted, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I just want the cure. If Klaus has any knowledge of it, I’m not going to let your paranoid warnings stop me.”

And that was why you found yourself in the woods outside Mystic Falls, pursuing the rumor that Klaus was near. Your heart pounded, a mix of anger and hope driving you forward. That hope turned into a nightmare when one of Katherine's minions appeared out of nowhere, tackling you to the ground. The stake in his hand glinted in the sunlight, aiming straight for your heart.

You struggled, trying to push him off, but he was relentless. Just as you braced for the end, there was a blur of motion, and your assailant was suddenly torn away. You gasped, scrambling to your feet as you saw Klaus standing over the broken body of your attacker. His eyes were cold, yet his posture was relaxed, almost as if saving you had been a minor inconvenience.

"You—" your voice came out rough, disbelief dripping from every word, "you saved me?"

Klaus tilted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. "Don't sound so surprised, love. Surely you didn't think I'd let Katherine have all the fun."

Your pulse hammered in your chest, more out of confusion than fear. Klaus, of all people? The monster your brothers had warned you about? The hybrid who supposedly wanted nothing more than to tear the Salvatores apart? You glared at him, trying to ignore the nagging questions in your mind.

"Why?" you demanded, pushing yourself to stand straight despite the throbbing pain in your side. "Why would you help me?"

Klaus stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a piercing intensity. "Because," he said softly, his voice dangerous and smooth, "I have plans for you."

You tensed, instincts flaring again, but something in his gaze held you captive. There was a softness, a flicker of something deeper beneath the cold exterior. "Plans?" you repeated, the word bitter on your tongue. "Like what, adding me to your collection of enemies? Using me against my brothers?"

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver up your spine. "So much suspicion. Your brothers really have done a number on you, haven’t they?" He took another step closer, his presence commanding and overwhelming. "But I assure you, my intentions are far more…personal."

Your stomach twisted in knots, both from his words and the weight of your brothers' warnings ringing in your ears. Klaus Mikaelson is a monster. He’s dangerous. Don’t ever trust him.

But here he was. Standing before you, having just saved your life.

"You expect me to believe that?" you asked, your voice harsher than you intended. "That you’re just here to help out of the goodness of your heart?"

Klaus smiled, his lips curling with dark amusement. "No, I expect you to listen. I know what you’ve been searching for—the cure." You froze. He knew. Of course, he knew. Klaus always seemed to know everything. But this was different—this was something you had kept close, something personal, driven by a desperation to reclaim your humanity.

Your mouth went dry. "What do you know about it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I know more than you think," Klaus replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming. "But that’s not something I’ll simply give away."

Of course, there was always a catch. You crossed your arms, defensive. "What do you want from me?"

"Simple," Klaus said, taking a final step until he was just inches from you, his voice low and measured. "Spend time with me. Get to know me and my family. Let me show you that we’re not the monsters your brothers make us out to be. If, after that, you still believe we’re nothing but dangerous beasts, I’ll tell you everything I know about the cure."

You scoffed. "So, what—this is some kind of bet?"

Klaus's smile turned predatory. "Call it a wager, if you prefer. If I can’t change your mind, you get what you want. But if I do…" His gaze flickered over you, something unreadable in his eyes. "Then you’ll owe me."

"That’s it? You’re not going to force me into anything?" You raised an eyebrow, your suspicion still very much alive.

Klaus chuckled darkly. "I don’t need to force anyone into anything, love. I think, deep down, you're already curious."

His confidence rattled you. But beneath the fear and doubt, there was a flicker of something else. A sense of intrigue. Curiosity. After all, hadn't you already begun questioning your brothers' stories? You hadn’t expected Klaus to be anything other than a brutal monster—and yet, here he was, offering you a chance.

After a moment, you sighed. "Fine, I’ll take your bet. But don’t expect this to be easy."

"I wouldn’t have it any other way."

What began as a begrudging agreement quickly spiraled into something far more complex. Klaus introduced you to his family, and to your surprise, they were far more than heartless killing machines.

Elijah’s calm, noble demeanor immediately stood out. He was nothing like the vicious killer you’d imagined. And Rebekah—though quick-tempered and prone to impulsiveness—had a genuine vulnerability that reminded you of Stefan in a strange way. They weren’t monsters; they were people. Complicated, dangerous people, yes, but not the soulless creatures Damon had described.

Klaus...Klaus was the most perplexing of all.

He was still terrifying, no doubt about it—his temper as quick as ever, a constant reminder of the danger lurking beneath his every move. Klaus’s control over any situation was absolute, as though the world bent to his will, daring not to defy him. And yet, there was something about him that gnawed at the edges of the image your brothers had painted.

It started subtly, at first. His gaze would linger on you a fraction too long, his eyes softening for a moment before the familiar steely mask snapped back into place. In those rare, unguarded moments, you felt something shift—a crack in his unyielding façade, a glimpse of the man he might have been before centuries of betrayal hardened him into the creature he had become.

And then there were the nights when you found yourself alone with him, often under the most unexpected circumstances. Once, after a particularly brutal fight with Damon, you returned to the mansion bruised and exhausted. You had expected Klaus to gloat or mock your weakness, but instead, he was there, his presence both commanding and unexpectedly gentle.

You stumbled into the grand foyer, wincing with every step as pain radiated through your battered body. Klaus emerged from the shadows, his eyes sharp with concern. Without a word, he guided you to a nearby settee, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you settle.

"You should be more careful," Klaus murmured, his voice low and almost tender. He knelt beside you, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your bottom lip. His touch was meticulous, almost reverent, and the contrast between his harsh exterior and this tender care was jarring.

You met his gaze, searching for the ruthless hybrid you’d come to know. Instead, you saw a flicker of something softer, an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t understand you,” you said, wincing as your words caused the sore area of your lip to tighten. “Why keep me around if this is all a bet? Why show yourself like this if I’m to be a pawn in your game? Don’t deny it, I heard my brothers speaking about how you plan to use Elena to get rid of your curse.”

Klaus’s expression hardened for a moment, the mask of his usual confidence slipping just enough to reveal the hurt beneath. He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he met your eyes. “You think of me as nothing more than a manipulator, but there’s more to this than you realize.” Standing up, you watched as Klaus turned his back to you, in an attempt to hide his weaknesses.

“I didn’t plan for this to be a game,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a trace of regret. “My initial interest in you was strategic, but it evolved into something far more complicated. Yes, I need Elena to break the curse, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you are any less real.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Your actions are so contradictory. One moment, you’re this ruthless hybrid, and the next, you’re kind. I can’t make sense of it.”

“I understand your confusion. It’s easier for people to see me as a monster because it suits their narrative. But the truth is rarely that clear." You wanted to look at Klaus, so with much bravery, you stood up from the settee and walked toward him. His back tensed, yet you stood in front of him, his blue eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

"They call me a monster, a villain. And maybe I am those things. But I’m more than that. I’m someone who cares about the people I choose to let in." His hand hesitantly went to your cheek, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"And you’ve…chosen me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A ghost of a smile touched Klaus’s lips. "Against my better judgment, yes. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve lived a long time."

The intensity in his eyes made your heart pound. You wanted to hate him, wanted to cling to the stories your brothers had fed you, but something had shifted. He wasn’t just some ancient monster; he was a man with desires, hopes, and wounds he kept hidden beneath layers of cold indifference.

"Then tell me," you challenged "Tell me the truth. Is there really a cure, or was this just some elaborate game to win me over?"

Klaus’s gaze darkened with an intensity that spoke of deep emotions. He took a moment, the silence stretching between you as if he was weighing his words carefully. “There is a cure,” he confessed, his voice grave and earnest. “And if you still want it, I’ll help you find it.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you saw was an unfiltered sincerity that was both unsettling and reassuring. “And if I take it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What then?”

Klaus’s expression grew somber, the lines on his face deepening with the weight of his emotions. “If you take it, you’ll be walking away from your brothers, this life…from me.”

The pain in his voice was palpable, but he didn’t try to mask it or push you towards any decision. There was no manipulation, no hidden agenda. It was a raw, honest confession from someone who had been playing a complex game but now laid his cards on the table.

You were taken aback by the contrast. If this had been Damon or Stefan, they would have tried to convince you to stay, to forget about the cure and remain by their side. They would have manipulated your feelings, used every trick they had to make you change your mind. But Klaus—Klaus was offering you the choice without trying to sway you. He was hurt, yes, but his respect for your autonomy was genuine.

“I… didn’t expect you to be so honest,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re willing to let me go, even if it means losing me?”

Klaus nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I am. Because I understand what it means to desire something with every part of your being and to be willing to make sacrifices to achieve it. If the cure is what you truly want, then I will help you find it, even if it means saying goodbye.”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM NORMAL PEOPLE *  assorted dialogue from the book by sally rooney, some lines slightly changed to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i'm not a religious person, but i do sometimes think god made you from me.

i have a sense that real life is happening somewhere far away, happening without me, and i don't know if i will ever found out where it is or become part of it.

no one can be independent of other people completely.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

he probably won't come back.

what we have now, we can never have back again.

for me, the pain of loneliness will be nothing to the pain i used to feel, of being unworthy.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

people can really change one another.

you should go. i'll always be here. you know that.

generally i find men are a lot more concerned with limiting the freedoms of women than exercising personal freedom for themselves.

most people go through their whole lives without ever really feeling that close with anyone.

life is the thing you bring with you inside your own head.

even in memory, i will always find that moment unbearably intense.

i have never believed i'm fit to be loved by any person.

yes. that was it. the beginning of my life.

it's funny the decisions you make because you like someone.

your whole life is different.

i think we're at that weird age where life can change a lot from small decisions.

if people appear to behave pointlessly in grief, it's only because human life is pointless, and this is the truth that grief revealed.

i don't know what's wrong with me.

i don't know why i can't be like normal people.

it feels powerful to put an experience down in words.

people are a lot more knowable than they think they are.

there's always been something inside me that men have wanted to dominate.

i want my life to mean something.

a lot of the literary people in college see books primarily as a way of appearing cultured.

that's the only part of myself i want to protect, the part that exists inside you.

there's something so corrupt and sexy about it.

i wish you didn't have to go.

i wish you could stay the night.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

literature moves me.

it almost sounds sexual.

you learn nothing very profound about yourself simply by being bullied.

it's time you'll never get back.

time is real. the money is also real.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

the snow keeps falling.

hopefully i have changed, you know, as a person. but honestly, if i have, it's because of you.

he does have immaculate taste.

it's not like this with other people.

[name], would you ever fuck off?

you lean in expecting resistance, and everything just falls away in front of you.

i would lie down and die for you at any minute.

sometimes, someone will make eye contact with me, like a bus conductor or a person looking for change, and i'll feel shocked that anyone can actually see me.

we could be in a room full of people and my eyes would always meet yours, just to find that you had already been looking.

there's something comforting about it, something good about feeling sort of numb, detached from it all.

it was different with you, didn't have to play any games with you. it was just real.

no one is ever gonna hurt you like that again. everything's gonna be all right. trust me.

i love you, and i'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you again.

we have done so much good for one another.

[perrywrites]

I really want a part 4 of "asking 'Can you… Can you hold my hand?' during your first time together" With Rin, Rensuke and Sae plsssss

Thank you!

OMG... YES... My hero hubby how could I ever forget about him 😭😭😭

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 4;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and Part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Rin, Sae, Kunigami 

Rin: he hovers above you, his much larger form eclipsing your trembling body, his eyes as intense as ever as he soaks in your vulnerable position. You don’t know, do you, how long he’s been waiting for this? Not to fuck you, but to make love to you, like this? Have you beneath him like this, all vulnerable, an intimate sight, see you in a way no one else ever has and never will - he’ll make sure of it. Because, after all, Itoshi Rin doesn’t give away his heart easily, he never meant to give it away at all, but then you came along and turned him into a man that would fall apart if you decided you didn’t want him anymore. There was no way he was going to let you go now, his weakness and his only balm. So, he indulges in you, instead, pouring all of his passion into his kisses, he knows exactly how to make you weak, soaking in your whimpers as you weakly hold onto him. That’s right, he’s your anchor, rely on him, hold onto him, because he’s going to make you fall apart right now under him, and he’ll be the one to piece you back together, hold you in his arms. It’ll always be him. He’ll keep on proving it, his hands pulling your legs apart as he nestles inbetween them, his grip now firm on your doughy thighs. He suppresses a groan as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on it teasingly - don’t get cuter, dammit, do you want him to become even more impatient than he already is? With a low growl, he grabs onto one of your hands, pinning your wrist down - and you whimper at this, shyly avoiding his eyes as you make that cute little request of him. His pretty eyes widen just the tiniest bit, heart stuttering in his chest, and a profound longing for you fills him even though you’re right there. And he wonders, if you knew, just exactly how crazy you make him? More than anything else? He scoffs, but it’s weak, and he reaches his hand out to yours, his grasp gentle but firm as he interlocks your fingers together. “... You’re such an idiot.” But his words lack any bite as he leans his head back in towards you to capture your lips. You don’t know how desperate you make him, do you? How badly he yearns for you? He needs you, dammit, but hell would freeze over before he’d ever admit that. For now, he’ll just take you to heaven and back, make you cry out his name, and have you keep looking up at him with those dazed starry eyes. He can only ever be satisfied if he makes you as crazy for him as he is for you, because that might be the only way he can ensure you don’t leave him for someone else. Please, don’t leave, please. He’ll fall apart. You don’t understand how much you mean to him. 

Sae: he has you pinned beneath him, ready to be defiled by him, as he looks on at your form with a seemingly impassive gaze, but you can tell his eyes are softer - and definitely teasing. You can tell he’s amused by you - and he is, he so is. He finds the way you tremble beneath him, the flush of your body deepening, the dewiness of your eyes, all of it to be so fascinating. He adores the sweet sounds he can elicit from your lips with ease, smirking lightly at how sensitive he has you over his touch. You’re all nervous and shy, like a bunny, and something about that both melts his heart (though he would rather die than admit that) and strokes a very depraved flame within his psyche. Seeing you like this, all shy, large doe-eyes, so pure and innocent, all of it makes him want to absolutely ruin you on his cock. Make you cry, sob, and then beg for him as he fucks you up. Something about the idea that taking your first time will make you belong to him in a way no man can ever overwrite heats him up in a way he just can’t explain to you - or to anyone else, really. It’s when he positions himself over you with his darkened eyes that you blurt out something that momentarily catches Sae off guard. He raises an eyebrow, and then he chuckles softly, in that low hoarse voice of his, before he leans in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. “... You’re such a brat,” he mumbles against your skin, dragging his lips over to nibble on your ear. The pride, and hunger, in his chest grows at your sweet whine, and he slowly interlaces your fingers together, giving you what you want with fond exasperation. You’re his responsibility after all, so he’ll take care of you then, make you full on his cock and teach you there’s no man out there better for you than he is. After all, you’ve already tainted him with your colour, so it’s only fair if he gets to taint you in return, right? 

Kunigami: he’s so careful with you, ever the gentleman, treating you like you’re delicate, a flower, or porcelain, or something even more fragile. But, you’re not a flower, or porcelain, you’re a person, with warm soft flesh, and each time he touches you, you shiver and react - whining for him, whining for more. He’s so troubled, each sweet sound that leaves you makes his mind hazy, makes his eyes darken. His rough hands ghost over your body, and squeeze firmly but oh so gently, he’s so careful, so please, for the love of dear god stop being so tempting. Because - because he can feel his self-restraint slipping in the way he grips your hips a little too hard, eager to revel in and satisfy himself through you, and that’s no good. He presses a slightly rough kiss against your lips, drinking in your sounds and muffling them as much as he can. It’s no good, dammit. Don’t be so sweet-sounding, please, don’t look up at him all adoringly, lashline wet as you call out his name like that. You don’t know half the filth in his mind, how badly he wants to defile you and corrupt you, he’s embarrassed by it, honestly. He can feel his head grow fuzzy, cock twitching painfully. The longer he delays this, the less confident he becomes about his self-control, so he hoarsely asks you if you’re ready before positioning himself. And then he freezes when you shyly ask him to hold your hand. How are you this adorable, fuck? He smiles at you reassuringly, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he reaches out for your hand. How is someone so sweet like you letting him take your first time? He’s so in love with you, fuck. He’s so glad you trust him this much, that you’re letting him be the man in your life. He’ll be so gentle with you, fuck, no matter how badly he wants to pound into you, he’ll treat you right, so right. He’ll make sure you never regret him or your first time, ever, after all this night is about both you and him. Defiling you be damned, he’ll love you, and he’ll love you so right, dammit. You’re the love of his life, don’t worry, he promises to keep you safe and cherish you forever.

[p0orbaby]

We Can Stay Here, Spend Every Day Here

summary: barcelona win the champions league

warnings: none

a/n: thanks for sending in a Request

word count: 1k

-

The final whistle blows, and the stadium erupts like a shaken bottle of cava. People are screaming, crying, jumping like they’ve just been told they’re getting a lifetime supply of jamón. Barcelona’s just won the Champions League, and you’re there in the thick of it, standing on the sidelines like a stunned meerkat, absorbing the whole chaotic spectacle.

You see Alexia. She’s standing on the pitch, breathing hard, looking like she’s just wrestled a lion. Her hair’s stuck to her face in sweaty strands, but she’s beaming, a look of pure, unfiltered joy that probably hasn’t graced her face since the day she found out croquetas were a thing. She’s surrounded by her teammates, who are mobbing each other, doing that thing where they all scream “Let’s go!” even though they’ve just gone and won the damn thing.

Alexia’s eyes dart around the stadium, trying to soak in everything at once, like she’s worried she might miss a single drop of this euphoria. It’s that moment when you realise she’s not just a footballer, she’s also a sentient human sponge.

But then you notice it. The way her shoulders slump a little, how the corners of her mouth twitch as if they’re debating whether to keep smiling or just fall off her face altogether. You can almost hear the monologue running through her head, like: “Am I dreaming? Did I leave the oven on? Is that tear in my eye or did a pigeon just shit on me?” The existential dread of it all hits her at once—she’s just achieved one of her life’s greatest goals, again, and yet… what now?

It’s all too much. You can see it in the way she starts blinking furiously, like her eyeballs are allergic to victory. The next thing you know, her chest is heaving, and her breath’s catching, and you’re thinking, Oh, Christ, she’s about to go full Niagara Falls.

You’ve never seen Alexia cry. You’ve seen her stub her toe on a chair leg and swear in Catalan that would make even Gerard Piqué blush, but cry? This is uncharted territory. It’s like watching a unicorn sprout wings. It’s so rare, you almost want to pull out your phone and film it for posterity, but you figure that might be a bit much, even for you.

Instead, you just stand there, paralysed with awkwardness, trying to figure out how to comfort the world’s greatest footballer without making a complete tit of yourself. Do you pat her back? Offer her a tissue? Do that weird side-hug thing where you don’t know what to do with your arms?

No, no. You do the only thing that seems right in this absurd moment—you just walk up to her and stand there, like a total muppet, until she finally notices you.

“Y/N?” Alexia blinks at you, her eyes glistening like she’s either about to cry or ask you to help her find a lost contact lens.

You open your mouth to say something profound, like, “You did it!” but all that comes out is a croak that sounds suspiciously like a bullfrog who’s just stubbed his toe on a lily pad.

“Hold me,” Alexia suddenly blurts out, her voice barely a whisper.

You freeze. Hold her? Alexia Putellas, the most un-holdable person you know, is asking you to hold her? That’s like Messi asking you to tie his shoelaces or Ronaldo admitting he’s bad at something—utterly inconceivable.

But then again, she’s standing there, looking at you like you’re her last line of defence, and, well, what the hell else are you supposed to do?

So you awkwardly shuffle closer, your arms hovering in the air like you’re about to hug a cactus, and then, with all the finesse of a drunk giraffe, you wrap your arms around her.

And she just melts. Not like the Wicked Witch of the West—more like an ice cream in the sun, all warmth and sweetness and, honestly, a little sticky from the sweat. Her head drops onto your shoulder, and you can feel her trembling slightly, her breath hot against your neck.

“Wow,” you mumble into her hair, which smells like some fancy shampoo you can’t pronounce but secretly wish you could afford. “You’re really, uh, hugging me”

“Shut up,” Alexia mutters into your shoulder, but there’s no venom in it. She’s smiling again—at least, you think she is, though it’s hard to tell when your face is smushed into her neck like you’re trying to get a good whiff of her collarbone.

You stand there, holding Alexia in the middle of the pitch, while her teammates continue to celebrate around you. Pina is dancing like she’s auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance: Champions League Edition, and Mapi’s screaming something in Spanish that’s probably either very inspiring or incredibly inappropriate, maybe both.

You feel Alexia’s shoulders shake with laughter, though you’re not sure if she’s laughing at you, with you, or because she’s just realised how utterly bizarre this whole situation is. Probably all three.

“You okay?” you ask, because you’re not sure what else to say when you’re holding the greatest footballer in the world while she tries not to dissolve into a puddle of emotions.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, her voice soft, almost tender. “I’m just… It’s just… a lot”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding sagely, like you totally understand what it’s like to win the Champions League and have an entire nation screaming your name. “Winning’s hard”

Alexia snorts—a real, honest-to-God snort that makes you laugh, which makes her laugh, which then makes you both laugh even harder until you’re both giggling like a couple of idiots who’ve just been told they’re getting the last slice of pizza.

And for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the middle of a stadium filled with thousands of people, that you’re holding Alexia Putellas like she’s some kind of cuddly footballing teddy bear, and that you’re probably the most absurd couple on the planet.

You just laugh, and she holds you, and you both stand there like two complete goofs, surrounded by the chaos of victory, soaking it all in, and not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks.

[tinytinyblogs]

Darling, i'm sorry..

After a fight, they need to make things right with you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 Life feels like a rollercoaster, and here I am, still pouring my thoughts onto the page, hoping this time it's something worth reading.

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Sometimes, Han’s tendency to overthink would get the better of him, especially when it came to his emotions. He found himself tangled in his thoughts, turning minor issues into bigger problems. That's often where the arguments would start—over something small and insignificant. He’d begin to complain, nitpicking every detail, and before long, his voice would rise, frustration spilling over. The tension would build between you two, creating a moment of distance, even though the argument itself didn’t seem that important. After a while, though, you would both take time apart, letting things cool down. Han would often sit in silence, reflecting on his actions. His eyes would wander to the closed bedroom door where you were, and he’d start thinking about the argument again. Slowly, it would hit him how much his overreactions could cost him. The fear of losing you, the one person he loved most, would wash over him, stronger than any frustration he’d felt earlier. In those moments, he realized that his biggest fear wasn’t the fight itself but the thought of pushing you away.

He took a hesitant step closer to the bedroom door, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, he stood in silence, contemplating everything that had transpired between you both. His heart raced as he reached out, his hand finally grasping the doorknob, and he turned it slowly, the soft creak of the door echoing in the stillness of the room. When he stepped inside and his eyes fell on you, he was struck by the sight of you silently crying, your shoulders trembling with the weight of your emotions. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he quietly closed the door behind him, wanting to create a barrier between the two of you and the outside world. He moved closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, as he settled down beside you on the bed. Without saying a word, he allowed his forehead to rest gently against your shoulder, seeking comfort in your presence. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability.

“It’s such a silly thing we fought about, and I never wanted to hurt you.” He lifted his head slightly, looking deep into your tear-filled eyes, and reached out to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. The tenderness of the gesture held a promise of understanding and love. “You know I love you, right? More than anything in this world,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It hurts so much to even think about the possibility of you walking out of my life. I can’t imagine what that would be like.” His heart ached as he watched the pain in your eyes, and he knew that the love he felt for you was more profound than any argument they could ever have. He wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap that had formed between you, to reassure you that no disagreement could ever diminish the bond you shared. In that quiet moment, he hoped you could feel his sincerity, and he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make things right between you two, to ensure that the love you both cherished would always prevail.

Felix

He often gets so absorbed in his games that it feels like he’s in another world, completely disconnected from everything around him. His intense focus blocks out everything, including you. You’ve seen it happen before—he becomes so fixated on his game that it's as if you’re invisible, no matter what you say or do. He doesn’t mean to push you away, but in those moments, it’s hard not to feel ignored and unimportant. It’s like he’s locked inside his own bubble, and you’re left standing on the outside. You try to be patient, but after a while, it becomes too much. You grab your things, deciding to leave. As you walk toward the door, frustration bubbling inside, you hear a shift behind you. He’s realized what’s happening. His head snaps up from the game, the characters on his screen frozen, as he rises from his chair. Losing the game is the least of his worries now. All that matters is stopping you from walking out. Just as you’re about to open the apartment door, his hand catches yours, gently but firmly holding you back. His touch is a silent apology, a sign that he knows he’s hurt you.

He held your hand, his eyes meeting yours, searching for something—understanding, forgiveness. His expression alone spoke volumes, conveying the apology he couldn’t put into words. For a moment, he stood still, the silence between you filled with unspoken regret. Then, he took a few steps closer, the faint sound of his game still playing in the background, left running—something he almost never did. It was a small sign, but enough to show you just how much his focus had shifted to you, and how much he cared in this quiet, vulnerable moment. "Don’t go…" he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an urgency that cut through the silence. It was low, almost pleading, but you heard it clearly. "Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to." His hand tightened around yours, his desperation growing with each passing second. He repeated, "I’m sorry, please… don’t leave me." His breath was shaky as he struggled to find the right words, his emotions getting the better of him. "You’re more important than everything… more important than anything else," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

"I know I messed up, but I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, just… stay." His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of regret and fear, his vulnerability laid bare in those few words. His hand gently caressed your cheek, the warmth of his touch calming the tension between you. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a brief moment as if to silently promise things would get better. "Let’s do something together," he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "I’ll turn off my computer." He stepped back slightly, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel seen, as if all his attention was now on you. "It’s been a while since we did a cooking date, hasn’t it?" he asked, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "Should we cook something special or maybe bake together?" There was a light in his eyes now, a spark of excitement as he tried to reconnect with you, eager to bring back the simple joys you once shared.

Seungmin

There are times when Seungmin’s words can be quite sharp. While you understand this side of him, knowing that he doesn't always mean to come across so harshly, it doesn’t change the fact that some of his remarks still hit you hard, especially when you’re feeling low yourself. In those moments, the weight of his words feels even heavier, like a blade slicing through an already fragile situation. The tension builds until both of you are trading hurtful words back and forth. Eventually, it escalates to the point where you and Seungmin decide to walk away, giving yourselves space to cool off. As you turn to leave, you catch a glimpse of Seungmin’s expression—his face is blank, almost emotionless, as if nothing you said got to him. But you know better. It’s just a mask he wears, hiding the fact that he’s upset, deeply wounded, especially when he watches you walk away. Seeing your back as you leave stings more than he’s willing to admit. His pride and ego hold him back from saying something right away, but after some time passes, you find him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, waiting for you.

The moment he spots you, he slowly drops his arms, his eyes locking on yours. For a few long, tense moments, neither of you says anything, both drawn into the silence that hangs between you, heavy with unspoken feelings. He lets you open the door first, quietly following you inside without saying a word. As the two of you sit down on the couch, the silence stretches between you, heavy and awkward. You sit side by side, close but somehow feeling distant. After what feels like an eternity, you notice him looking down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he awkwardly caresses his own knee. There’s a tension in the air, thick with unsaid things. “I realized I was wrong,” he finally admits, his voice quiet but sincere. “I shouldn’t have said those things.” He pauses, his eyes still fixed on his hands as if he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “I didn’t mean it... you know me. I’m not good at expressing how I feel.” His voice trails off, and you can hear the struggle in his tone, the vulnerability that he so rarely shows. It’s not easy for him to admit his mistakes.

And the fact that he’s saying it now, in this moment, speaks volumes about how much he regrets what happened. He glances at you, noticing how you seem lost in your thoughts, your eyes fixed on the floor. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of how to reach you. Slowly, he extends his hand and gently takes yours, his thumb brushing softly over the back of your hand in a comforting gesture. The warmth of his touch pulls you out of your thoughts, though you still don’t meet his gaze. “I made reservations,” he says quietly, breaking the silence. You look at him, a little confused at first. “At that restaurant you mentioned—the one you said you wanted to try.” His voice is soft but carries a hopeful tone, as if he’s trying to rebuild a bridge between you. Your eyes finally meet his, and you see the sincerity in them, the way he’s trying to make things right, to reconnect. “Let’s... go on a date,” he suggests, his voice a little more sure now. “I miss us. I miss our time together.” The words are simple but carry a weight of longing, and in that moment, you feel the gap between you starting to close, if only a little.

Jeongin

Jeongin's clumsiness had always been a part of him, something almost endearing in most situations, but this time it came at the worst possible moment. The argument had started over something small, but it quickly spiraled into something bigger—something that meant a lot to him. It was about one of those things he'd worked so hard for, something that he held close to his heart. Yet, in the heat of the moment, his words came out wrong. He felt cornered and defensive, and that only led to more hurt. Instead of fixing things, his attempts to explain himself only worsened the situation, breaking what he had worked so hard to build. The argument turned into a full-blown fight, and before he knew it, both of you were deeply upset. Jeongin hated it. He never wanted to be in this kind of conflict, especially not with the person he loved most in the world. But there he was, standing in the middle of it, and though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t stop. His pride had taken over, and his ego spoke for him instead of his heart.

He wanted you to understand his side too, but it seemed impossible to get his point across without sounding cold or distant. After the fight, Jeongin was left with a gnawing feeling of regret. He thought about it over and over, replaying the conversation in his head, wishing he'd said things differently. He wanted to apologize so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too shy, too proud, too unsure of how you'd react. Several times, he picked up his phone, thinking about texting you, typing out the words he wanted to say. But each time, his fingers hovered over the send button before he ultimately deleted the message. He would stare at the empty screen, sighing in frustration, wishing he could express how he really felt without the fear of making things worse. Days passed, and with each one, Jeongin found it harder to think about what to say. The more time went by, the more he realized it wasn’t about finding the perfect words. He didn't need a carefully crafted apology or a long explanation. What he really wanted was to fix things, to go back to how they were before the fight.

So, without thinking about it too much, his feet led him to your place. There was no grand plan, no rehearsed speech. When he saw you, all the hesitation, the worry, the uncertainty melted away. Without saying a word, he walked straight up to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a sudden, unexpected hug. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent—the one he loved more than anything. His embrace was warm, a comfort you hadn’t realized you missed after days of distance between you. "I’m stupid," he whispered, his voice soft and regretful. "The fight was stupid." His arms tightened around you as if he was afraid to let go. "I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it, and I didn’t mean to scream at you." After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache. "I’ll buy a new one," he promised softly, his voice laced with remorse. "And I’ll make it up to you, to us. I’m sorry… I love you." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet desperation to fix what had been broken, to start again.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More,Blood Character Popularity Poll Short Story ☽ Shuu ver.

Original title: 人気投票ショートストーリー、シュウ編 English translation by @otomehonyaku Requested by @aoi-hitomi-50 (happy early birthday to you and Shuu!) Original text can be found here.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SUMMARY | In this short story, Yui (not mentioned by name) has been with Shuu for a while—a bittersweet feat, since the vampire is not very vocal about his feelings. One morning, Yui accidentally drops her spoon at Shuu's feet while she's having her belated dinner. Spicy events ensue, and Yui cannot help but beg for answers. Will Shuu finally tell her how he truly feels towards her?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

—Just like that, I became your captive. Even though I could no longer go back, I…

In the small hours of the morning, I was belatedly having dinner by myself when Shuu appeared next to me out of thin air.

“Shuu? It’s unusual for you to still be up this early…” I was so surprised that the hand that was carrying my spoon to my mouth unconsciously paused in mid-air, still laden with soup..

“Yeah, well…” Shuu said curtly while he sat down across from me. 

Was I only imagining it, or did he seem in really good spirits today? I thought I even heard him humming.

“...Um?”

“What?”

“Did something… happen?” I asked him gingerly.

Shuu rested his elbows on the table, still humming, and stared at me intently with a gloomy look on his face.

“Uh…?”

“...Shut up. This is Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in G major, fourth movement. Look up the title yourself.”

I inclined my head in confusion at his profound answer. My knowledge about classical music was, unfortunately, limited. My mind drifted to the hymns we used to sing in church, and when I moved my spoon again, Shuu suddenly spoke.

“Hey… didn’t you say that I’m the one you love most in this world?

“What?!” I accidentally dropped my spoon because of his off-kilter remark. The shrill sound of the metal hitting the floor reverberated through the dining room. 

“Guess I was right,” Shuu said coolly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He eyed me curiously as I tried to regain my composure.

“W-why, all of a sudden…”

I clumsily stood up to retrieve the spoon from under the table. When I lifted the tablecloth, I saw that it had rolled over to Shuu’s feet. It was actually quite convenient that I dropped the spoon—it gave me a way out of the conversation so that I didn’t have to see eye-to-eye with Shuu.

“Ah, there it…”

Just as I slid under the table to pick up the spoon, I heard Shuu’s voice from above me. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Um, well… I just wanted to grab the spoon…” I said, flustered. I reached for the spoon, and then, suddenly—

“Ah?!”

“Hahaha…”

Of all the things he could have done, Shuu brought down his foot on my hand. I looked up at him with a start. Our eyes met—he held up the tablecloth on his end and leered down at me kneeling before his legs, which were spread wide.

“We’re not done talking yet. Who said you could pick it up?”

“It h-hurts…”

“Of course. That’s because I’m making it hurt.”

I’d thought he was in a good mood at first, but I was at a loss at his behaviour now. I bit my lip. 

“If you want me to let go of your hand, come closer,” Shuu continued.

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you to come closer… and put your face between my legs.”

“...B-but…” I would die of embarrassment if I were to position my body between Shuu’s legs. Just when I wanted to tell him that, he pressed down on my hand harder.

“Are you saying you’re disobeying me… because you actually like it when I hurt you like this? I guess it’s only to be expected from a hardcore pervert like you.”

“That’s… not…!”

“Not true? Well, how about you hurry up and do as I say, then?”

I’d lost count of how many times I’d yielded to his will when he cornered me like this. It was frustrating, but… I knew it was pointless to go against him. No matter how much I protested, he always made sure he got his way in the end. 

“Ah…”

Feeling defeated, I did as I was told and braced my hands on Shuu’s thighs so I could poke out my head from under the tablecloth. Then, I stuck my face between his legs, careful so as to not bump my head. 

“Hahaha… You look awful.”

“You’re the one who told me to do it…!”

“Well, that’s true, but aren’t you the one who actually decided to follow my orders?” Shuu ventured, his lips curving upward in a suggestive smile. “You’re a stubborn little thing, you know. You’re so in love with me you just can’t help yourself. At least, that’s what I heard… I figured you like this kind of stuff.”

“Who told you…” My voice wavered unintentionally, my heartbeat out of control.

“You’re so red. Bullseye. It’s obviously true, so  it doesn’t even matter where I heard it. Now, come closer.”

Shuu’s unusual talkativeness and assertive behaviour overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t help but obey him. No matter the things he did to me, no matter the cruel words he said to me… I was madly in love with him, just like he said. 

It was not a matter of not being able to go against him. I just…  wouldn’t.

“Come, hurry up… I’d rather you be grateful that I’m giving you this much attention…”

“Ah…”

“That’s it. Come closer. Actually, how about you sit on my lap?”

As if he’d seen right through me, Shuu’s voice was suddenly sickly-sweet, his gaze unrelenting in his efforts to persuade me. Despite my slight hesitation, I was internally overjoyed to hear this side of him. I simply did as I was told.

Our bodies were flush. I wriggled against him to get out of the tight space. It was incredibly embarrassing, but in the end, I managed to lower myself into Shuu’s lap. I braced my hands on his shoulders, facing him directly.

“Hehe… Look at you. I knew you could do it. Complain all you want, but I know you actually love doing naughty things like this.”

“Oh…”

“You aren’t really in the position to say otherwise, you know. Well… I’ll make you do much naughtier things. You love me more than anyone else in the world, right? I like the sound of that. As your reward… I’ll let you kiss me.”

“What…?”

“I’m too tired… so kiss me already. Come here…” 

Shuu narrowed his eyes at me impatiently. 

“Mm… ah, this isn’t bad after all. Your scent… the taste of you… Mmh…”

He had me completely at his mercy. Shuu’s lips found mine over and over again, deepening the kiss, from various angles… From an outsider’s perspective, it must have looked like we were sharing an intimate moment, but I was simply unable to resist his seduction. No, rather… this was…

I actually wanted this.

“Shuu…”

“What?”

“...Does this make you happy? Or… am I just a bother?” I asked him outright in between kisses. I’d been wondering about it for a while now. 

Shuu brusquely lifted me off of his lap and sat me down on top of the table. “You’re putting words in my mouth now? Shut up.”

“I… I figured you’d say that…” 

Maybe, in my heart, I wanted to hear such a predictable answer. Was it because I actually liked his harsh manner of speaking? My thoughts were still racing, but Shuu started stroking my hair and placed kisses on my ears.

“It’s not worth worrying about whether or not I like you… that’s not what I’m interested in. However… if anything, I’m interested in your blood. I crave you… do you understand what I’m saying? You can draw your own conclusions.”

Shuu’s sadistic voice sent incessant chills down my spine. That was all I needed to hear.

“Shuu, I love you…” The words just tumbled over my lips before I could catch myself. 

Shuu chuckled. “Heh… I know. You’re such a lewd woman. I know what you want… and you think I’ll give it to you, don’t you? I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll humour you until you’re satisfied.”

I could feel Shuu open his mouth wide. I waited for his fangs to pierce my skin with bated breath. The sharp tips of his canine teeth slowly hovered over my skin. He seemed to be holding back at first, but his demeanour quickly changed—in a flash, his fangs were buried in my neck.

“Mh…”

To this day, I still didn’t know how to describe this feeling. It hurt, of course, but at the same time, there was no way to put into words the absolute assault on my senses, the numbness that spread through me.

“Ha… Mmh… What a great expression… Agh…”

“Ah…” I came dangerously close to crying out while he drank from me. I desperately pressed my lips together. 

Shuu let out a low laugh. Surely, he thought I was only writhing in agony, but I didn’t mind—that wasn’t exactly wrong, either. 

“You’re greedy for such a meek girl, but… this is a reward, so… I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Mmh…”

A reward… the fact that he used such a word for it was proof that Shuu knew exactly how he was making me feel, and enjoyed it. It made my heart swell with joy. It had probably been a bit tactless to beg him to confess his feelings outright. I was already more than happy that, slowly, piece by piece, he revealed himself to me. 

“Let’s go over here now...”

Shuu’s hands impatiently groped at my chest. A feeling of endearment surged within me at the sight of him behaving like this.

I was completely head over heels for this man. I was far beyond saving, but at least I had some self-awareness. 

My mind wandered as my fingers became entwined in Shuu’s hair, my hands stroking his head. I wanted to shout my love for him from the rooftops, but an indirect approach was more befitting of this musically inclined man. 

Then, suddenly, Shuu lifted his face from where it had been buried in my chest, and told me flat-out, “I love you. Or, rather, I love you, the girl who is completely smitten with me. Got that?”

“Ah…!”

Now I really felt like I would go mad. Unable to contain my happiness, I instinctively covered my face with my hands. My cheeks were red-hot. Shuu saying the words I’d wanted to hear for so long was, without a doubt, the best reward. 

It seemed that, somehow, this languid, young nobleman of the shadows had laid his claim on both my body and soul. There was no going back anymore. And yet…

—I found myself smiling, thinking that might not be so bad after all.

[rafedarling]

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞

pairing: major!drew starkey x nurse!reader

summary: it’s 1944, and the world is engulfed in the turmoil of wwii. on a remote air force base, major drew starkey prepares for a perilous mission, while you, a shy and introverted young nurse, watches from afar, your heart caught between admiration and fear. you has never been one to express your feelings openly, but as drew faces an uncertain future in the skies, you gathers the courage to write your first letter to a man—a heartfelt confession of love. before he departs, you quietly hands him the letter, never knowing how it will change you both.

warning(s): english is not my native language. contains emotional themes set during ww2, themes of war and separation, mild language and teasing from fellow soldiers.

au: like, reblog, comment and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @stuffyownswrld @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy

part ii - part iii - …

You, as a nurse stationed at the airbase, you were accustomed to keeping your head down, doing your work with precision and care, never drawing attention to yourself. You’d been stationed here for months, yet it still felt like you didn’t belong in the whirl of action around you.

But there was one person whose presence never failed to draw your gaze, no matter how much you tried to remain invisible.

Major Drew Starkey.

To everyone else, he was a leader—a seasoned officer whose calm authority and unwavering composure made him stand out among the others. He was the kind of man who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet always found a way to offer a smile to those who needed it. His tall frame, sharp features, and focused blue eyes made him a figure of admiration and respect, and you were no exception.

But to you, he was more than just a Major in the Air Force.

He was Major Drew—the man whose voice sent a flutter through your chest whenever he spoke, even if it was just to ask about a patient’s condition. The man whose steady hands and quiet courage filled you with a sense of safety in a world torn apart by war. For months, you had admired him from a distance, your heart skipping a beat every time he passed by. You would catch glimpses of him during routine check-ups or briefings, his brow furrowed in concentration, his posture always strong and sure. You never allowed yourself to imagine more than a fleeting glance or polite exchange; he was an officer, after all, and you were just a nurse.

But as time went by, as each mission became more perilous and the losses more profound, something began to shift within you. The thought of him flying off into the unknown without knowing how much he meant to you gnawed at your heart. Every time he left on a mission, the knot in your stomach tightened, fearing he might not return.

And then, one evening, as the sun dipped low the base was sinking in soft amber light, you made a decision. It was impulsive and terrifying, but the fear of regret outweighed your shyness. You had to let him know, even if only once, even if he never read the words.

You decided to write him a letter.

Sitting in your small quarters, surrounded by the muffled sounds of soldiers laughing and planes preparing for takeoff, you hesitated, the pen hovering over the paper. How do you write to a man like Major Drew? What words could possibly capture the depth of what you felt, the quiet admiration that had grown into something so much more?

But you had to try. You had to be brave, even if just for one fleeting moment.

Dear Major Drew Starkey, I do not know where to begin, nor how to put into words what my heart has long wanted to say. Perhaps it is foolish of me to write to you like this, but the uncertainty of tomorrow compels me to be braver than I’ve ever been before. I know you are a man of duty, a man of courage, and that your mind is always focused on the task at hand. But I wonder if, in the quiet hours when you are alone, your thoughts drift as mine do—to those you hold dear, to the things that make this war worth fighting. I think of you often, more than I should. More than I’ve ever thought of anyone. It’s strange to admit it, even to myself, but in the stillness of the night, when the world around us is consumed by chaos, it is your face I see. Your voice I hear. It is your strength that makes me feel safe, even when everything else is falling apart. I have never written a letter like this before, and I confess I am terrified of how you will receive it. But I cannot go another day without letting you know how deeply I care for you, how much I admire the man you are—not just the officer, but the man who carries so much on his shoulders without complaint. I will not ask anything of you. I do not expect you to respond. All I ask is that you take these words with you, wherever you go, and know that someone here thinks of you every day. That someone prays for your safe return, not because it is your duty to return, but because you are cared for—because I care for you. If fate allows, I hope that one day we may speak of these things in person. But until then, please know that my thoughts are with you always. Yours, in heart and in hope, Y/N”

You read and reread the letter until the words blurred before your eyes, but the feeling behind them remained steady. With trembling hands, you folded the letter neatly and slipped it into a plain envelope. You stared at it for what felt like hours, your heart pounding in your chest as if it might burst. Could you really give this to him? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he laughed at you, or worse—what if he never even opened it?

But there was no turning back now. You had written the letter, and you had to deliver it.

The opportunity came sooner than you expected. The next morning, just before dawn, the base was a flurry of activity. Major Drew was preparing for another mission—this one longer and more dangerous than the others. The soldiers were gearing up, checking their equipment, and sharing quiet conversations before the inevitable parting. You watched from the infirmary window, your heart heavy with the weight of the letter tucked inside your apron pocket.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move. As you made your way toward the runway, the early morning light casting long shadows over the ground, you spotted him. He stood by his plane, speaking to a group of officers, his back to you.

You almost turned around.

But then, as if sensing your presence, Major Drew glanced over his shoulder and saw you. His expression softened, his blue eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your heart stutter. Without thinking, you hurried toward him, clutching the letter so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Major Starkey,” you called out, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. His gaze shifted to you fully, and he stepped away from the group, his tall figure moving toward you with a calm, confident stride.

“Y/N,” he greeted, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What brings you out here? Everything alright?”

You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you fumbled for the words. “I—I just wanted to give you this,” you stammered, thrusting the envelope toward him before you could lose your nerve.

He glanced down at the envelope, then back at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though there was no pressure in his voice, no demand—only a gentle interest.

“It’s just…” Your voice faltered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s something I wanted you to have before you leave.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze around you. The sounds of the base faded, the distant voices of soldiers and the rumble of engines becoming nothing more than background noise. It was just the two of you, standing there in the early morning light, the air thick with unspoken words.

Major Drew took the envelope from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through your body. He held your gaze for a long moment, as if trying to read the meaning behind your sudden act of courage.

“I’ll read it when I get back,” he promised, his voice low and steady, filled with an understanding that made your heart ache. He smiled at you, that rare, gentle smile that always made the world feel just a little bit brighter. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. And then, before you could embarrass yourself further, you turned and hurried away, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of what you had just done settled over you.

Hours later, the base had fallen into an uneasy quiet. The planes were gone, the soldiers off on their mission, and you were left in the stillness of the infirmary, going through the motions of your duties while your mind raced with a thousand thoughts.

Would he read the letter? Would he think you were foolish for writing it? Would he even come back?

Night fell, and with it came the familiar sounds of planes returning to base. You didn’t rush to the runway this time, too afraid of what you might or might not see. Instead, you stayed in the infirmary, tending to your work, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Meanwhile, in the soldiers’ quarters, Major Drew sat among his fellow officers, exhausted but relieved to have returned safely. The men around him joked and teased, trying to shake off the tension of the mission with laughter and camaraderie. But Drew’s mind wasn’t with them.

He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling the soft edges of the envelope you had given him. His comrades noticed the movement and, ever the opportunists, one of them nudged him with a sly grin.

“Hey, Starkey,” one of the soldiers teased. “What’s that you’ve got there? A love letter from a secret admirer?”

The others joined in, their voices filled with playful banter.

“Don’t keep it to yourself, Major! Let’s hear what your girl’s got to say!”

Drew rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not for you lot,” he muttered, standing up and stepping away from the group. He could still hear their laughter behind him, but it was distant now, fading into the background as he found a quiet corner and opened the letter.

As he unfolded the paper, the world seemed to slow, your delicate handwriting coming into view. He read your words carefully, the weight of your confession settling over him like a warm blanket. The teasing from his comrades faded into nothing, replaced by the quiet vulnerability of your letter.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, the letter clutched in his hands, a strange mix of emotions washing over him. He hadn’t expected this—not from you, not from someone so quiet and reserved. But as he read and reread your words, something stirred in him, something deep and unspoken that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

When he finally folded the letter and tucked it safely back into his jacket, his heart felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had lifted just slightly. The war still raged on, the uncertainty of tomorrow still loomed, but in that moment, your words gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed.

Hope.

He smiled to himself, standing up and returning to his comrades, their teasing starting up again the moment he rejoined them. “So, Starkey,” one of them called out, grinning from ear to ear. “Your mystery girl leave you love-struck?”

Drew chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice low, as if sharing a secret only he knew. Because that’s what it was—your letter was a secret, a treasure he would carry with him wherever the war took him next.

No matter what Drew knew one thing for certain: he would come back.

For you.

For the promise of something more.