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utahimeow · 5 months

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even death will not do us part — satoru gojo

summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol

After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.

Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.

“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep.

You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.

“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.

For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk.

“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory.

He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.

It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.

Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.

“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief.

“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest.

“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.

“Did what?” you ask.

“Got married.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”

“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”

Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.

“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses.

“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”

You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.

“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.

You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do.

“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer.

He does just that.

“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”

He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed.

You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.

After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.

“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him.

“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery.

Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.

You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.

Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.

He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep.

He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love.

He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern.

You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building.

He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.

As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you.

“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask.

His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow.

“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”

The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.

“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.

Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.

Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.

Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not.

After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures.

Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.

Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you.

“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”

There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being.

The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.

Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible.

Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.

When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.

Beside him, you bow too.

“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”

“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.

“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”

The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.

The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.

“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”

You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time.

“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”

Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.

Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.

“That one?” he asks.

You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.

Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan.

After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.

From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.

Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.

“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?”

“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.

“Sushi Go?”

“Please.”

The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.

After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.

“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.

You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes.

“It’s a little big, but I love it.”

“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”

“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.

“Just spoiled,” he corrects.

You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.

“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”

Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”

“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.

His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.

Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care.

You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.

Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.

He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.

When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.

Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.

Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.

Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.

dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

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love-belle · 10 months

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por siempre, mi amor !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the unproblematic couple of formula one.

for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // fernando alonso x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - had this one in my drafts for days now, i really hope u like it!!! second part of used to love you ( my danny fic ) will be posted soon so if you'd liked me to tag you, just send me an ask or message or reply to that post wtv works!!! anyways, thank u so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, fernandoalo_official and 71 others

yourusername almost adopted another puppy but i knew nando wouldn't agree

28 comments

pierregasly adopt one anyway

-> yourusername maybe i should

-> fernandoalo_official y/n no

carlossainz55 missing you around the paddock!!!

-> yourusername see you soon carlitos!!!

lewishamilton roscoe needs a new friend

*liked by yourusername*

lilymhe DO IT

*liked by yourusername*

fernandoalo_official y/n, mi amor, please don't

-> yourusername fine

-> fernandoalo_official really?

-> yourusername no

landonorris DO IT WE CAN NAME IT NANDOS

-> yourusername LMFAOAOOA I LOVE THAT

-> fernandoalo_official NO

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 715,428 others

fernandoalo_official estas flores necesitaban sol, así que ella era la elección obvia ( these flowers needed sunshine so she was the obvious choice )

tagged yourusername

username STOP IM CRYINF

username will never get over nando calling her sunshine

username sobbing fr

danielricciardo the most sunshine-y sunshine

*liked by fernandoalo_official*

username THEY'RE SO IN LOVE I COULD THROW UP

username parents fr

charles_leclerc 🤍

*liked by fernandoalo_official*

username sunshine x grumpy is so them

username SJAKSHDJAKSJSKSKS

yourusername te amo mi sol ❤️

-> fernandoalo_official te amo mucho ❤️

yourusername thank you for getting me the entire flower shop but i hope you know it's up to you to carry them home

-> fernandoalo_official cualquier cosa por ti ❤️ ( anything for you )

username he's so soft for her like

username i need this omg

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by fernandoalo_official, lilymhe, maxverstappen1 and 87 others

yourusername all's well that ends well to end up with you ❤️‍🩹

tagged fernandoalo_official

34 comments

lilymhe the cutest couple!!

-> yourusername we love you lily 🫶🏼

charles_leclerc you're the only one he ACTUALLY smiles at, we just get the -_- face

-> fernandoalo_official it's because i like her

-> landonorris woah nando ok.

-> lewishamilton breaking my heart over here man

-> pierregasly we see how it is

-> danielricciardo oh my god

-> fernandoalo_official los odio a todos iguales ( i hate all of you equally )

-> yourusername mi amor be nice ( my love )

fernandoalo_official everything made sense with you ❤️

-> yourusername i love you ❤️

carlossainz55 please come and see him as soon as possible, he gets really grumpy

-> fernandoalo_official i do not

-> yourusername sure i believe you!!!!!!!!!!!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 775,628 others

fernandoalo_official por siempre, mi amor ( forever, my love )

tagged yourusername

comments are disabled for this post

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #social media au #fake instagram imagines #f1 imagines #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x fem!reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso imagines

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bahrtofane · 28 days

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promises under the stars

It's strange. When kisses under stairwells and behind his parents house turns to no more than passing gazes. To hatred. But this is the life you live, the life you have chosen. So you live. You will live.

Jude x fem!reader

Word count - 6.3K+ (yikes !!)

Watch it - angst with minimal fluff. enjoy ?

p.s. - i took a few creative liberties with the time lines an what not so plz take it with a grain of salt and dont think too deeply about it thank u

you can read Judes pov here !

—-----

“Jude, “ you sigh. He doesn't look at you, he's afraid of what he’ll see and you know it.

It's a warm summer night, and you sit side by side on the bleachers of his training field. You waited for hours for him to be done, all for just a few moments together. In full honesty, you're not even supposed to be here, you've been threatened from both sides. And even family overseas have joined in. it's a mess. You think you told them you were off to the library, something like that.

You pulled so many strings just to be let inside to watch training, likewise for Jude. But you're here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Only the lights on the field illuminate you, but you have memorized his face to need no light to see him. Your fingers grab into the seat under you, knuckles turning white. You're afraid. Oh so afraid.

“Please,” you try again, soft and steady, patient.

He finds the courage to face you, ripping himself from the doubt that surrounds him.

You are what plants him to reality, keeps him steady. Your smile is enough to calm any worry, wave away any woe. He hates what he has to do.

“You know this is the last time I’ll see you,” he mumbles. He can't keep risking things the way they are. There's so many eyes on you as it is. He won't put you into harm's way, even if it means parting ways to do so. He wrings his hands together. Breathe, he tries to remind himself. Breathe.

You nod, swift and curt, “I know.” oh how you know. You've been dreading this day to come for a while now. And now that it's here, what can you do?

He picks at the cuffs of his training jacket,“I told them I would marry you, but my agent said it would be unwise.”

“You would marry me?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“A thousand times over. “ he finds your hand, gently lacing it together.

“I wish things were different.” a knot in your throat forms, and tears well in your eyes.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently bringing you snug against him as you sob. You will never understand why your families are so adamantly against you two all of the sudden. Your whole childhood was filled with teasing and jokes of marrying one another, giggles when you would be forced to stand in pictures, but now that it was to be true suddenly the jokes faded and anger took its place.

He is good for you as you are good for him. Jude is a man like no other, patient, caring, kind, soft and easy to you yet firm to all else. He holds each door open, never forgets flowers, even when he's away. Surprises you with your favorite sweets, never misses a good night or good morning text. Buys you things you mentioned casually in a fleeting conversation, all because it comes from your lips. If you were to wish for the world he would buy it all, tied neatly and delivered to your window sill.

He takes each burden off your mind with a smile, carries your things, sends a ride to any place you wish to be. (he's working on the actual license).

You fully expected your families to be static, jumping for joy and diving straight to wedding planning. Instead you were met with a brisk, “no.”

No? No to the man who has overtaken your heart and mind? No to the man who wishes to see your flourish and bloom in every regard, every aspect, every part of life? It's cruel in a way. You once used to grimace at the idea when you were younger, fake gagging and instead choosing to wrestle with him in the grass. And now you beg to be allowed to see him.

To ban your union is one thing, but to see him at all brings too much weight on your heart.

You fought every step of the way, every step until now. It gets to be too much at a certain point, when you have to watch your very move in fear of being caught, of being seen with him. When eyes wash over you with lips upturned in sneers and whispers soon following.

The delicate facade you've built is beginning to crack at the seams. Soon there will be nothing left to keep you together. You fear going mad.

So you choose to let him go.

Your phone buzzes, prying the two of you apart. Your heart leaps to your throat. Have you been found out ?

It's just a twitter notification.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. He rubs gentle circles on your knee. His hands are warm. Just like you remember, just like you dream of. In the gentle quiet of your room you close your eyes and wish for him.

“We can't see each other but I want to keep in touch. I'll wait for you. If you'll wait for me.” he whispers.

You see the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Ever thoughtful Jude, waiting for you to finish crying to allow himself to do so.

“I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. “ you nod, leaning on his shoulder.

And you do just that.

Youre forced apart when a teammate tells him to get going.

He scowls, “hold on.”

The teammate, whose name alludes you, shrugs and jogs back inside.

You stand, watching him shake the tension out of his shoulders.

“This is it then,” you mumble, lip quivering.

“Yeah,” he takes your hands in his, “guess so.”

You bit your lip to stop any more cries. He unlatches a hand from yours, brining it to cup your face gently, wiping the streaks of dried treats left on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he leans down, pressing a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you nod, chasing his lips. He gives them to you. Soft and easy. You screw your eyes shut. Oh you're crying again.

You part when you can no longer breathe, foreheads pressed together while your chests heave.

“My angel,” he sobs.

“Ill find a way back,” you kiss his cheek.

He nods, here,” shaking his training jacket off and putting it on you.

Someone yells his name and he sighs. One last kiss to your forehead.

You watch him sprint down the stands, giving you one last smile before disappearing in the tunnel.

—--

Dortmund is kind to him, you watch as you flourish on the field, never missing a game. You know it's too much to go in person so you stay tucked into bed, laptop out and always always waiting for his name to be announced. Giddy as he looks at the camera. Some days you even convince yourself he's looking right at you.

He calls when he can, facetime you when he's at the facilities. Obnoxiously flexing to the camera while you laugh. You treasure these moments. The few minutes a day when the time difference allows for an overlap. Just enough to get you through to the next day. He always blows a kiss to the camera, and you alway catch it. No matter how cheesy.

“I stubbed my toe.” he whines on the other end.

You laugh, “and whose fault is that.”

“Yours.” he decides.

“Uh huh.” you shake your head fondly, raising a brow at your phone that sits on a window sill. Today you're at a cafe getting some work done. And he just finished dinner.

“Think you'll be able to come to a game soon?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

You stop typing, frowning, “Jude…”

He shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I know. We can't.”

“Maybe in a year or so? Things should be cooled down by then.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “they still giving you a hard time?”

You blow air through your nose, “hard time is an understatement, they've practically banned sports.” making light of the outrages situation helps you feel better some days. Jude joining in helps. He always helps.

“So dramatic.” he tuts.

You nod, “so dramatic.”

—--

The year comes and goes. The texts slow down till they are few and far inbetween. You can't blame him. You watch him dominate the field in each appearance, breaking records and showing the world what you've always known, showing just how special he is.

His following count skyrockets and he gets a blue check. You feel special to be one of the few he follows. No matter how silly. Even when he doesn't reply to you and posts on his story you try not to take it too hard (you let it get to your head on bad days.)

You wait for each reply patiently like a lifeline nonetheless, connecting the two of you together. You drop everything the moment his name flashes on the screen. You try to ease the butterflies that float and twist in your stomach, the jitters that make it hard to type out responses right. But you can't help it.

He wins the German cup. And you get a call late into the night, bleary as you reach for your phone, groaning while you put it to your ear. Skipping over his face that illuminates the screen, smiling. Cheeks flush and eyes blown wide.

He giggles, “hi.”

“Hi,” you mumble back.

He giggles again, “m in your ear.”

You squint, bringing the phone in front of you and getting your first good look of him of the night.

“Hey Jude.”

“Hey love.” he sighs dreamily.

You come to your senses soon enough, scooting to sit upright, pushing your pillows around getting comfortable.

“Are you drunk?” You laugh.

“Shhh…” he puts a finger to his lips, “secret.”

You raise a brow, “you’re not doing a very good job at keeping it that way.”

Bursts of laughter bubble from his lips. Swaying side to side while. He blinks, hard, mouth open while he stares.

“ ‘M fine.” He nods. Proud of himself.

You frown, “Are you going to be okay? Are you alone?”

“Erlings with me. My best roommate.”

“Okay good. Be safe.”

“You’re so pretty.” Is what he manages to get out.

“Thank you. You should go to bed.” You smile. He’s sweet, no matter how drunk.

“But I missed you.” He pouts, bottom lip quivering and for a second you think he’s about to cry. Instead he blows a kiss to you. Of course you catch it.

“I missed you too. But it’s late, for both of us.” You lean against your pillow, blinking against the dark of your room.

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin. “I won the cup.” He blurts.

“I know love. I watched.”

His eyes go wide, “you watched me.”

You nod, “the whole game.”

He scrunches his nose, “wow.”

“You did amazing.”

“Wow.” He repeats.

You yawn, squinting against the time in the little corner of your phone.

“Jude.”

“Hm?”

“Head to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging, “fine.”

“I love you. “

He perks right back up. “I love you. You. You.”

You give him a little kiss to the screen and he manages to fall back on his bed sighing happily. You hear erling come in and decide to hang up. You hope he manages to get out of his kit for the night.

——

Things start to calm down on your end. It's almost like everyone's choosing to forget about the hell they've put you through. But you don't make a fuss, you are happy to have peace of mind, no matter how fleeting it may seem. It's just one step closer to being able to have him. Fully and wholly.

He calls you early into the morning. He's sitting in his house, shirt off, smiling.

“Uh oh. What's this about? “

He only smiles wider, bringing an ipad out of nowhere and showing it to you.

You squint, “jude i can't see that. “

He huffs, “here,” picking up his phone and flipping the camera to where his ipad now sits on his lap.

On the screen reads flight information, for about 2 weeks out, destination is to you. Your eyes go wide and you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“No way. No way oh my god.” you all but squeal.

He flips the camera back around, “Can't wait to see you again,” he beams.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” he mumbles, lips curling in a smile.

——-

You greet him at the airport, flowers in hand. No you don’t care how cheesy it is. Even if you have to wait in the most obscure place, car parked and nerves rising. Playing with every button and switch on your dashboard, picking at every spec of dust you can reach. You got it detailed yesterday and you’re already nitpicking.

You check and recheck your phone, picking at the petals of the flowers that rest in your passenger, until his contact illuminates your screen.

You frantically answer, “hey.”

“TSA was being a bitch.” He groans.

You chuckle, “that bad.”

“The worst. Where you at?”

You look around for signs, “arrivals, right next to the luggage cart return thing. It says door D5. “

“D5. Okay okay I’m coming.”

You hum, hanging up and drumming your hands on the wheel.

He calls you again, “okay I’m walking out the door. Can you help me with the luggage?”

“Yeah-“ you unbuckle your seatbelt, putting your hazards on and stepping out of the car. You see him walk out the door and you almost drop your phone while rushing up to him.

He lets go of his carry on, opening his arms and you slip right into them.

“Hey,” he hums into your hair.

You laugh,“hey.”

You unlatch far too soon for your liking out the sounds and rush of the airport pushes you to get him in your car and outta here.

You grab his things, one carry on and one checked bag, clicking your keys and opening your trunk. He doesn’t let you do much else, lifting the suitcase and sliding it inside. Your little 4 door sedan manages to fit the checked bag in your truck. With not enough room for the carry in, it slides into your back seat.

You close the door, patting the top of your car affectionately, “there. All good to go?”

He nods, opening the door to your passenger and gasping, “flowers?” Eyes going wide, eyebrows shooting in and looking at you. Lips parted.

Oh yes. You forgot about those. “Haha. Yeah. Flowers.”

He picks them up gingerly, setting them into his lap as he gets into the seat. “Are these for me?”

You hop to the driver's side, buckling your seatbelt, “duh.”

He giggles,”they’re sweet.”

“Smell them.”

He does, putting his face in the petals, “woah.”

“Best flowers in town.”

“Smells like. Fresh laundry.” He nods.

“Laundry. You called my flowers laundry.” You sigh.

He swats your arm, “it’s a compliment jeez. Just landed and you’re giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah yeah buckle up.” You flick his arm.

The ride home is one filled with animated stories to catch up the time between you two. Completely oblivious to anything else as you drive with one hand, and the other plays with his fingers.

You get to your little apartment, parking and getting his things out. Sliding your key card over the sensor and you guide him to the lobby.

You roll over to the elevator and hit the button. Sniffling while it heads up.

“Are you sick?” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Nah.”

“Mkay.”

The elevator dings and you find your way to your little home, unlocking the door and motioning him inside.

“Ta da!”

He snorts, “I’m excited.”

“You should be. Best house this side of the equator.”

He rolls his things inside, shaking his head, “so there’s better on the other side?”

You shrug, “there might be.”

He collapses on your couch the moment he sees it. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

“Shoes off at the door Jude.” You slide yours off and set them next to your shoe rack.

He groans, kicking them off and trudging back to set them next to yours.

By the time you put his things in your room, he's out like a light, snoring softly.

—--

You let him sleep, by the time he comes back to it it's dinner time. Groggy and cranky he pads over to your dining table, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but reaching for you.

He finds you eventually, plating the last bit of food while he wraps his arms around you, leaning into your back. You stifle a laugh while he mumbles something about you being mean. You only roll your eyes, unlatching his grip.

“Time to eat baby.”

He only purses his lips, leaning against yours. You give him what he wants. Pressing a gentle kiss and guiding him to his seat. A sleep Jude is a clingy one you've learned.

He eats all you make, complimenting and praising you after every bite.

“You're so good at this.” he sighs, taking a sip of his water.

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

He preens at this, smiling wide.

He's only here for the next three days but you'll take anything you can get.

——-

Jude worries for you.

Even in the gentle lull of your ac that fans his face while you're fast asleep against him.

He wonders who much longer he can keep doing this. Holding onto hope that down the line he will still have you.

His time is running out with you. It feels just like the day you parted at the stadium. Crying. He noticed you kept the jacket, neatly tucked in your closet.

It makes him frown. Making you waste your youth waiting for him.

Part of him wants to keep you for him and only him. Keep waiting and hoping things will work out. Another part of him, much less excited, wishes for you to look him in the eye and tell him you don't love him anymore.

One of you has to do it, he thinks.

Even if you move in with him and you get married. Is it worth the fall out? His mother hates you. His father cant stand hearing your name at the dinner table on the few days they eat together.

He knows the sentiment is shared on your end.

But he loves you. Oh how he loves you.

—--

After he leaves you don't hear from him for months on end your worry rises, and when the replies also shorten, your fear takes a hold of you. Sensibility out the window and in comes every insecure thought.

He's found a hot shot model to be with hasn't he. Or better yet a female player. Reporter perhaps? You're not dumb or blind, you know you're not the only one who sees how handsome he is. He's growing into his features beautifully. But does he see you?

Is he leaving you behind now, as his life and career continue to accelerate at speeds you can barely keep up with, is he no longer waiting for you ?

—--

Jude finds his routine once again. Training playing, training playing. It's a little dull, he thinks.

Much better if you would be here.

But he can't have that.

He stops himself from talking to you. It feels wrong. He can't shake off the feeling that he's only doing you wrong by making you keep up with him. So he slowly distances himself.

—--

He cant stay away. Not even if he tries.

He surprises you near your birthday. Completely unannounced while you're in the middle of cleaning.

You open the door to a jittery Jude who grabs you close, pressing his lips firm to yours.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle in between kisses.

Peck! “You're so-” peck!, “beautiful.”

You shoo him away, getting his things inside as he takes his shoes off at the door.

“I missed you so much, “ he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you sigh, clutching into his hands like a lifeline.

“I got you tickets?”

You look up at him, “okay. Ill go.”

He attacks you with a hundred more kisses, bursts of laughter spilling from the both of you. You dont think youve ever been happier.

—--

You do go. Sitting in the fancy VIP section while watching him warm up. You almost forgot he’s at Madrid now. Big leagues huh.

He sends small waves your way in between exercises. And you only watch fondly.

When it's time for the actual match, you can't believe you get to watch him score. And he points right to you.

You love him. Oh how you love him.

He finds you after it's all set and done. Kissing you silly while he ignores the hundreds of notifications that make his phone buzz and sputter on the table.

You frown, “who is that.”

He chews his lip, “prolly just the guys,” leaning back into your lips.

You're forced to part ways when the calls flood in, promising to see you soon when he takes care of things.

He doesn't come back to see you, instead leaving you to head back to your hotel alone. You try not to think too deeply into it. But you fear you are already starting to lose him. After everything really has passed and fizzled out to nothing but memories. You fear it's all too late.

—--

You see him only once more during your stay in madrid. When youre all packed and leaving. He presses kisses to your skin whispering promises. And you believe him.

When you land back home you go back to your routine of watching him from afar. And again the replies shorten. So much so you only get the odd text every few weeks. Until it turns to months. And you're back to radio silence.

It's almost a self pity party, trying to keep up with him. Even now that you can go see him, he can come see you, does he even want that anymore?

You crave to talk to him, to know him, to go back to the closeness you once shared. You know that's no longer your place in his life. You were someone he once treasured. Now you're another unanswered dm that lays in his inbox.

Does it hurt you as much as it does him? You don't think so. Not when pictures of him on vacation with his “friends” surface. Who even are these people? You don't recognize a single face. It fills you with rage.

Almost like he's trying to erase his past life with this new squeaky clean image of the perfect player with the perfect life. Friends and all.

Is he ashamed of you?

You fight the urge to call his mom and stir up trouble from the past. So instead you hunker down in your room and try to keep yourself busy and mind off of Jude. This turns out to be much easier said than done.

—--

Jude finds himself in another after party, wearing clothes much too expensive to be getting champagne sprayed all over them. But what else can he do?

He crafted this image delicately. Can't turn back now.

There's a woman who keeps whispering into his ear. She's not you. No matter how much his teammates howl and egg him on. He can't bring himself to do so much as face her.

He's not interested, gently moving her aside while he nurses his drink.

She scoffs, calling him a slew of names. He frowns, excusing himself and making a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking himself inside a stall and leaning on its walls.

He calls you. Of course he does. And you pick up.

“Hey Jude.” he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Hey love.”

“What's up?”

He sighs, long and drawn out, “I just miss you.”

You snort, “really because it seems like you've been having a blast on beaches with people i've never heard of.”

Oh.

“It's not like that-”

“Jude. don't lie to me. If you've found someone else, tell me now.”

“I havent I swear. They really are just friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going?” you whisper.

There's a beat of silence. And Jude can't find the answer. Looking at the ceiling of the club like it will magically come to life and give him just the right combination of words to make both of you happy.

You sigh, “if we are going to make anything work I can't be out of the loop this much Jude. I can't know things after paparazzi do okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, meek.

“Where even are you?”

He licks his lips, “this after party thing.”

“Its in a club isn't it.”

He doesn't answer but it's confirmation nonetheless.

“Dont be stupid and start calling me more.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you've already hung up. He rubs his eyes and head out the stall. Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face.

When he gets back out there, he decides to call it a night. Ignoring the groans and frowns he gets.

When he's back in bed. He's looking at flights to see you again.

—--

Jude gets a call a few weeks later.

It's right after he gets back from training. Hasn't even changed yet.

The number is unknown and he ignores it the first time. Setting his phone on the dinning table and kicking his shoes off.

When it calls back two more times he picks up.

“Hello?” he scratches the back of his head.

“You know why im calling.” its your father.

Jude scrambles to take a seat, chewing his lips. What does he mean know why. He hasn't talked to you in a few days.

“Um, I really don't know-” he gets cut off.

“This will be my last warning to you. You are not going to ruin my daughter's life i dont give a damn how old you are, how old she is. None of this player nonsense. She has a proper education. You aren't going to ruin that for her, do you understand?”

Silence.

“I swear if I hear you coming around her or talking to her I will sue you and your whole family.”

The line goes dead and Jude sighs. Great. Just great.

He calls his lawyer, seeing if it would be legal to sue.

His lawyer hums, “well they can come at you from any angle really. Emotional distress possible defamation. Id lay low for now.”

So he does just that. Yet again going silent on you.

—--

He hears wind that people have put two and two together. Your instagram has been flooded with requests. You've always had it private but you've been forced to change your user name and picture.

You don't know how but pictures from when you saw him in Madrid have resurfaced.

And have gone more than just viral. It's all people are talking about.

Your work life has gone from just pleasantries and work only talk to people crowding around you begging to know more. You've had people show up to your workplace for god's sake. Begging to be let in so they can see you.

Jude calls you, worried. “I'm so sorry I don't know how pics were even taken. I'm so sorry im so sorry.”

“I don't know what to do Jude i've never dealt with this kinda stuff.” you mumble.

“Hey, hey its okay. Ill get you in contact with a security company dont worry leave it to me.”

“Okay.”

“For now. I dont think ill be able to see you anytime soon.”

“Thats okay.”

“Be safe yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—--

Your family is in a complete uproar. They blame Jude. of course they do. Your father talks about suing him but you turn it down.

“He didnt mean for this to happen.”

Your mother shakes her head, “this is why we told you to stay away from him.”

You dont regret any moments with him.

It takes a while. A grueling few months for your life to finally go back to normal. But Jude rarely comes back like before.

You watch the months turn to years flashing by. Facetimes become a luxury of your past self. Calls are reserved for special occasions like an aged wine. Only brought out sparelily. You get one on your birthday but it feels forced. Heavy and filled with all too much silence.

You've tried calling, texting. Rarely receiving the time of day. Who is Jude to you anymore?

“Hey, “ he smiles. A picture perfect rehearsed one. You almost forgot what he sounded like when speaking to you. How long has it been now?

“Hi.” You mumble.

“Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You shrug, “it’s okay.”

Silence while you pick your nails.

“Any plans?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner with friends.”

“Oh Emily?”

You want to roll your eyes. You haven’t spoken to Emily in years.

“No Jude. We’re not in touch anymore. New friends I’ve met”

He mouths a silent “oh”.

He wants to tell you why he's been gone for so long. But unfortunately he's caught up in a legal battle. Your father actually went ahead with it. And he's stuck trying to make sense of it.

The maniac got good lawyers. And he's using every last bit of the law to win it. Using the leaked pictures that caused you so much trouble as his main leverage.

He's been advised not to talk to you. But it's your birthday. And now seeing you moved on, new friends, new life. It feels like it's time to let go.

For your sake. He's only brought problems into your life. And you live a life now without him. He just hopes you're happy.

—--

You see him once, passing by through the city center. You want to run after him, grab his shoulders and shake him awake, scream and yell, beg for him to remember your promise. But you do none of that. The second your gaze meets his, your heart leaps to your throat, you blink and he's gone.

You get a text from him a few days later, first since your birthday.

Was nice seeing you.

You want to cry. What did he see? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't nice. Not at all. It was awful. It ripped any piece of sense out of you and made you sick.

You dont reply.

—--

You wish you had. He gets called to the national team, and suddenly your family begins to boast of your connection to him. And that's just it. Your connection. Not theirs. Yours. You know him, you love him. Or you knew him.

After so many years of cursing his name now they all but sing it.

The local community is hosting watch parties, you refuse to go.

You know the gossip around you as is. You don't need it said to your face. These people are unforgiving on their best days, cruel on their worst. More so the older generation who seems to hold not an ounce of basic human decency.

And somehow you find yourself in a room painted in blue and white, you look away at the stares you get when you walk in. You're regretting coming at all. You're wearing a blank jersey you've had for a while, slumped in the corner of the room, watching. Waiting for the comments to pour in sooner or later.

But they don't, not for now. Instead, the room erupts with cheers and applause as Jude scores a goal, you smile. Not bad for a midfielder huh. The air is electric with excitement, but you feel detached, as if you're watching the scene unfold from a distance, picking at the plate of sweets that rests on your knee.

As the game progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Jude on the screen. He looks different now, more confident, more assured. He's cut his hair, clean and precise. And yet, there's a sadness in his eyes that mirrors your own.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promise he made all those years ago. Has it really been years? But the thought is fleeting, lost amidst the chaos of the crowd and the weight of your own heartache. And soon I have a headache.

When the final whistle blows and England emerges victorious, the room erupts into celebration once again. But you slip out quietly, unnoticed, lost in your own thoughts.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin as you make your way home. You're not waiting on anyone, and it's a short walk away. The streets are quiet, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance.

You pause for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. And in that moment, you make a decision.

You may not have chased after him when you had the chance, but you refuse to let this be the end of your story. You refuse to let fear and doubt hold you back any longer. There is no use to let yourself be defined by what ifs.

With a determined step, you pull out your phone and type out a message to Jude.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

It's a small gesture, but it's a start. And as you hit send, you feel a glimmer of hope stir within you.

Maybe, just maybe, this isn't goodbye after all. Maybe there's still a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other, to rewrite the ending of your story.

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for his reply, wait for the future to unfold, and wait for the day when you can finally be together again, without fear or hesitation. In a way he'll always be your Jude.

——

News reaches you in the form of an instagram post on a summer day. Not family, not friends, not him. It’s your explore page that plasters it on your screen, in the middle of your morning routine you see him all tidied up in a suit, facing away from the camera, the side of his face illuminated by soft light. Next to his side is a woman in white, you only see a peek of her face but you call tell shes smiling.

“Just married.”

Married. Just. Married.

Oh.

You don't register it at first, the words looking more like a foreign language than any coherent sentence. So you finish brushing your teeth and your hair. Moisturizing your face, slipping back into bed and rereading it over and over and over again till it finally does click for you.

He gave up on waiting.

You keep going back to the picture. He's grown into a proper man now. His features are full and bright. He's gotten a different haircut. Leaving behind the one of his youth. You read through the comments of teammates and old friends congratulating him.

You realize the tie he's wearing is the one his dad got him when he first left for dortmund. You think you're gonna be sick.

No one bothers to ask why you've been crying all day. It's safe to assume everyone knows by now, hell the whole population probably does.

What changed his mind? What made it that he couldn't even bother to let you know beforehand?

And yet there's a stupid prick of hope that can't seem to go away. You're still waiting for him aren't you.

—--

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the reality of his marriage settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't help but wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promises made under the stars, if he regrets the choice he made. But you push those thoughts aside, burying them deep within you, because what good would they do?

A sick twisted idea of wrecking his home blooms in your mind, but you know you can't. You just can't. Not to him. You can't take away something like this from him.

Life goes on, as it always does, but the ache in your chest remains, a constant reminder of what could have been. You try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that will keep your mind from wandering back to him. Yet, he's always there, lingering in the back of your thoughts like stardust.

You hear snippets of his life through mutual acquaintances, through social media posts, through the grapevine of gossip that always seems to find its way to you. He's thriving, it seems, his career reaching new heights, his personal life seemingly content. Apparently he has a kid on the way, would you look at that. And you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To top it all off you still have no clue on who this woman is. Not who she is, what she does, where she's from. Absolutely nothing, it drives you mad to say the least.

He hasn't spoken to you. Not since that day in the city center.

Maybe if you would have known all that was to come you would've gone after him. Chasing him endlessly through cobblestone stress and crowded walkways. Would he have even stopped? Given you a moment of his day?

The same man who spent his days off in your apartment kissing your worries away and promising you a tomorrow you still cling to.

You're a foolish foolish woman. And for some reason, you don't hate him. You don't think you ever could. Even after everything, every single year that's passed. A part of you will always love him.

—--

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tearsofastraeax · 3 months

Note

hiii i just love ur stories and i was wondering, could u write a story where a lot of girls flirt with ghost (cause he's just so hot tbh) and we're crying and feeling bad bcs we're scared he'll find better since he dosen't reject or ignore them??

ty a lot and take care <3

thank u anon ♡ i had so much fun writing a lil angst

sorry it took me longer than expected to wrap up your request, the creative juices are not flowing these days, but i hope you enjoy ♡₊ ⊹

It's no surprise to you that going out with an incredibly fine piece of man is going to come with some jealous feelings here and there.

Just a couple weeks after you started to hang out with Ghost, you noticed women staring at him. But you didn't blame them, how could they not stare? Ghost just naturally attracts women, with his broad shoulders, his veiny arms, those giant hands ... you could go on and on forever.

But you never expected to find yourself sitting in your bedroom, hiding underneath the blanket and silently sobbing into your pillow because of it.

Earlier that day when you were out with Ghost for a drink it really hit you. You had barely left for a minute to head to the bathroom, but when you came back you saw a beautiful woman standing next to him. Inching closer and closer to him, her hand on his shoulder and a flirty smirk on her face. And it didn't look like he was opposed to it in the slightest. His body was slightly angled towards her, his face covered in mystery behind his mask, but you could feel his smile, you just knew.

Your heart felt like it was about to drop, break apart, stop beating all together. Your stomach was in knots. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, you had no right to be jealous, right? You were only seeing the man for a couple of weeks now, nothing serious... only, at one point, unbeknownst to you, your little heart had accepted him in and made it serious. You were fucked, royally fucked.

To feign calmness you took a slow breath, in and out. Before you made your way back to Simon and the woman still plastered to his side. You coughed uncomfortably to make them both aware of your presence.

It took him a moment to take his eyes off the woman, before he turned to you.

"Oh, this is my friend, y/n," he looked back towards her, gesturing to you.

You all but managed to swallow the big lump that had formed in your throat. His friend? Is that all you were? A friend? Nothing more? Did it only take one beautiful woman to suddenly make you nothing but a friend to him? You should have known this, it was just too good to be true. Of course he would find someone better than you. You felt your eyes begin to water, but you aggressively blinked the tears away. No, you were better than this.

"Yea, his friend", you pressed out, a tight and obviously fake smile on your lips. "Who is just about to leave actually. Have fun."

You grabbed the jacket haphazardly thrown over the seat next to the one you were just sitting on and turned around. Your legs carrying you out of the bar, you couldn't wait to get out of there, to just get away, as far as possible.

What you didn't see was Ghost's slightly confused expression as he watched you leave. But what you did know was he didn't follow you. Didn't he notice how upset you were? Did he just not care?

You huffed out an annoyed sigh, at yourself, at him, at the world, at everything.

You had barely made it home, slamming the door behind you, before the tears came. They welled up, making everything blurry, and then they came crashing over you like a wave, making it hard to breathe, harder to see and impossible to do anything but slide down against the door and sob into your hands.

And there you were, laying in bed, an hour later, still fucking pissed and sad and helpless and jealous and ...

Your phone vibrated next to you, Simons name popping up on your screen. You tried to ignore the call but he immediately called again. Deciding to pick it up you heard a low growl in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up, a slight shiver running down your back.

“Open the fucking door, y/n.”

The edge in his tone made you immediately jump off the bed. For a quick moment though you stopped in your tracks, hating how he could command you and make you feel, how he had so much power over you when clearly he didn't feel the same about you.

But you heard him pounding on your door, so you hurried to open it. The door swung open and his eyes immediately bore into yours. You swallowed down a thick lump in your throat as he crowded into you, effectively pushing the two of you into the apartment. He slammed the door behind him shut and stared down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"What the fuck was that?" He growled. You couldn’t fucking believe his attitude, weren’t you the one that was supposed to be angry?

You took in a deep breath before you answered, "well, I wasn't the one flirting with some chick..."

You meant for the words to come out more powerful, maybe even as aggressive as his. To make him understand that he had no fucking right to barge in here like this and act as if he had the right to demand answers.

"You...", his gaze softened then, shifting into ... surprise? "You're jealous?"

All you could do was shrug, feeling too raw from crying to vocalise your feelings. But to your surprise, he didn't say another word, his hand softly cradling your cheek. Your skin underneath his felt hot to the touch as you looked up to him. His eyes seemed so soft and gentle then, making your breath hitch in your throat. The feeling of him wrapped around you like a warm blanket was overwhelming. His gesture nearly stitching your heart back together all by itself.

"I'm sorry... I-", was all he could say before his lips pressed onto yours, so harsh and hurried, yet somehow gentle and sweet.

His hands slowly travelled down your body, once he reached your ass, he lifted you up so effortlessly, your legs immediately wrapping around his, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently whispered between kisses, "I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

#Simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #Simon Riley angst #ghost angst #request #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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daenysx · 1 year

Note

Hi, thank you for you answer I have this idea for a Aemond x reader.

Reader is pregnant with Aemond first child. On a ball our a birthday, comes to an accident and the reader going into labor. Aemond tries to protect his wife, but its to late and he can do nothing except to hold her hand am and prey.

I hope u can understand what i mean, english is not my first language c:

thank you for this request, i hope you like it!

requests are open!!

my masterlist

come back to me

an accident leads to an early labor and prince aemond never lets go of your hand.

your prince looks quite bored as he watches the bright lights and people dancing with each other. his hand stays on your thigh, rubbing circles, comforting both you and himself. he's never liked these events, there are too many people and he has to engage conversations with them even if he despises them. he doesn't like the act of pretending, doesn't like the loud voices.

your hand stays on your swollen belly, a habit since your belly started growing. you are carrying your first child. the baby is perfectly healthy as the maesters told you and will be born in two moons. you hold aemond's hand, resting on your thigh. you try to comfort him with soft fingers and a reassuring smile. he looks at you, his lips curved into a little smile.

it's the king's name day. even though viserys targaryen is not present all the evening, he was there at the table for a few moments until he felt tired. the feast still goes on; people dance, eat, and drink. aemond is bored and doesn't want to see his mother's teary eyes, helaena's absent smile, and aegon's scandalous behaviours. his brother keeps drinking like there's no tomorrow and doesn't hide his greedy eyes towards maids.

you bring your face closer to aemond's ear, "would you like to leave, my prince?"

he gives you a worried look. "are you alright, my love?"

you nod, "i am, but we can always use my pregnancy as an excuse to retire early."

he smiles slyly. he loves how you feel his discomfort and try to make it better for him. he would love to leave now, go to your shared chambers and help you sleep with his kisses. he nods, "let me tell my mother."

he stands up, goes to talk to alicent. you stand as well, take a few steps to the stairs connect the royal table with other tables that other people are seated. as you see aemond approaching you, you turn your head to alicent's way and give her a little smile. you turn your direction back to the stairs and walk slowly.

then comes the moment of aemond targaryen's worst nightmare.

you can't even recall how, but your foot slips when you are on the stairs and you lose your balance. your hand immediately goes for your belly but you can't stop yourself from falling.

a sharp pain. that's all you feel. your head feels heavy and your legs don't seem to remember how to carry you. aemond isn't quick enough to catch you from the distance he stands. he goes to your side, sees your face covered in the look of pain and desperation. his hands stay on your body, checking if you are alright.

"my love...talk to me, please."

you sob, everyone is there, too crowded and there is no air. pain. between your legs. the ground is shaky. everything is blurry.

"aemond...our baby-it hurts."

alicent screams for the maesters. her voice is not clear in your ears, your hands never leave your belly. they carry you to your chambers, far away from people. aemond is there, his heart beats too loud, he can hear it. the distance between his eyebrows close as he yells at people around.

you are on the bed now, the pain is there. you hear aemond's voice, explaining what happened to the maester impatiently. the maester tells him that the birth might be started.

"aemond- too soon- too soon. do something, please!" your eyes are slightly open as you beg your husband. you fear of losing your baby. you don't even consider your own life, but your husband does.

aemond would burn the city to the ground if you die.

"the princess must give birth right now, my prince."

you try to reach for his hand. he is there by your side. he looks like he is in pain, he kisses your hairline and holds your hand. "stay calm, my love. we will be alright."

your prince is a rational man. he knows he should keep you calm and strong. he can endure this pain, he can even get used to it. if he wants you to stay healthy and alive, he should ease off your worries. the birth is earlier than it would be under normal conditions but that shouldn't mean the baby and you will be in a certain danger.

"i know the birth is early, but you shall be alright. you are my strong wife, remember? try to stay calm for us, for me and for our baby, please. i'm right here with you."

his voice is an anchor. you try to breathe steadily and even though your head hurts with the feeling of imbalance you do not wish to care for it.

the maester and your handmaids are in the chamber. they are in a rush, all devoted to you and your prince. you can understand that aemond's presence and his stern voice helps little for them to complete their duties.

you hear the maester's desperate voice. "my prince, you shall not be in here."

your husband answers with the coldest tone. "if any of you ever dare to tell me to leave my wife, i will make sure of your painful deaths caused by vhagar."

the maester accepts his words unwillingly. you care little for it. you are too tired, you don't know what to do, you don't want to die here. aemond stays next to you, holds your hand and caresses your hair with his free hand.

"you will not leave me. did you hear that, sweet wife? everything will be fine."

you blink slowly. you try to hold onto that warm tone of his voice. you feel the maester's hands on your body, he keeps telling you to push. you spend all your strength but it feels impossible. it feels like death and you are more scared for your baby than you are scared for yourself. with a little conscious you pray for your baby. for your husband. let them be fine.

aemond is terrified. there's no other word to describe how he feels. he is scared. he keeps thinking about the endless possibilities. he tries to look strong but this is harder than all the battles and duels.

alicent is in the chambers too, watching her son with worried eyes. she fears for your life, she prays and prays and prays. she sees how aemond tries to create a safe space for you. how he tries for you to focus on the birth instead of the fear of death.

"once more, princess."

you scream. you are sure the entire keep is covered with your screams. you lost the count of time. how many hours have passed, is it morning yet? you don't know. then you feel a sudden relief. your baby leaves your body and all your muscles shakes at the feeling.

"a son, your grace!"

you try to see your baby but you don't have the strength to lift your head enough. a boy. a beautiful boy. you wait to hear his cry but there is no voice. aemond stays frozen, he doesn't let go of your hand, his tears are ready to fall.

then the most beautiful sound you've ever heard fills the room.

your son cries and the maester smiles. "there is nothing to worry now, my prince. the little prince looks quite healthy. "

aemond smiles and looks at you. he knows how tired you are but you manage to give him a smile anyway. the relief of your son being healthy and safe is too strong to resist and you close your eyes.

the maids clean the baby and wrap clean, white clothing around him. aemond reaches to hold his son. his son.

the feeling is quite strange for the one eyed prince. he still fears for you but holding his baby in his arms is a relief. he holds him for what feels like an eternity. he memorises the baby's facial features, all the same with his, only with the shape of your mouth. he watches, mesmerised and happy.

alicent approaches closer to her son. aemond looks at her and puts the baby in her arms securely after pressing a little kiss on his forehead. alicent smiles to her grandson, proud and relieved. her worries lessen when she sees how healthy the baby is even though he was born two moons early.

aemond sits on the edge of the bed. your handmaids clean the bed, there is no blood now. you are in a clean space, your eyes closed and your hair messy. he brushes his fingers on your cheek gently, prays to the gods to give you back to him. he prays for you to find your balance again, to be happy now that your son is here. he prays for you to wake up, to tell him you're fine, to ask him about the baby's name. he wishes for you to tell him all your name choices and decide what's your desire to call your boy. he just wishes for you to come back to him.

he keeps stroking your cheek when you open your eyes. your eyes are unfocused for a moment, then you see him. he looks exhausted but when he realizes you open your eyes, he cups your cheek. "my love?"

"aemond, our son-" your voice doesn't feel like your own. you can't complete your clumsy sentence.

"he is alright. a perfect boy, healthy and safe. how do you feel, my lady?"

you sigh in comfort when he tells you about your son. "i'll be better."

"yes, you will. you will be better. than we will choose a name for our boy, hmm? would you like that?"

you nod. "yes. it would be lovely."

your prince takes a deep breath. the experience was terrifying but you survived. he leans and kisses your forehead affectionally. "you have done perfectly. i love you."

"i love you. thank you for never leaving, my prince."

he shakes his head. "i will be by your side until the end of my days."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond fluff

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ameliora-j · 3 months

Note

I absolutely adore your writing <3 could you please write a blurb with Steve h, where the reader says their safe word because she’s too over stim and Steve thinks he’s hurt her when she’s reassures him she’s fine just sore, so he showers her with his best after care as he apologises every couple seconds <3

thank u baby ! ♡

content: vibrator, clit play, fem!reader, degradation, safeword, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

your body trembles as you lay, spread eagle, atop steve’s sheets. steve has a vibrator pressed to your clit, his arm holding your hips down. one of your shirts being used to bind your hands to the headboard, a scarf tied tight around your eyes to block your vision, and your panties shoved into your mouth to act as a gag.

steve is punishing you for mouthing off—overstimulation being his favorite punishment. your orgasms began to bleed together around the third and the fourth, and by now you had lost count of how many you’d had. the makeshift blindfold is wet with tears, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as you sob. “yeah, not so snarky now, are you princess?” he mocked. “just a stupid little slut now” he laughs, slapping your thighs.

you shriek with each slap, gritting your teeth as you try to power through it. your clit is on fire, the pained pleasure bleeding into pure pain now as you breathe heavily. “cum again whore i know you can” steve growls, pressing the vibrator harder to your clit. impossibly, he turns the vibrator even higher, causing you to yelp in pain and choke over a sob.

“red!” you call, muffled through the panties. if steve didn’t hear that, the three knocks you lay against the headboard are clear as day. immediately, the vibrator is off your clit—dropping to the floor with a distinctive ‘thud.’

steve pulls the panties from your mouth first, untying your shirt from your wrists, and pulling the blindfold off your eyes. “hey, princess…” steve whispers softly. you hiccup over a soft sob, trying to get closer to steve, so he pulls you to his chest. “it’s okay, i’m right here” he kisses your head softly, leaning up against the headboard with you sat on his lap.

“‘m sorry stevie, i was just so sore and… it started to hurt really bad and i wanted to…” steve shushes you gently. his hand strokes over your hip, cooing at you as he presses kisses across your head.

“don’t apologize, baby. that’s what the safe word is for” he reassures you, kissing your head over and over. “i’m sorry that i hurt you, princess. got a little carried away” he murmurs.

“it’s okay stevie… ‘m okay” you sniffle, hugging him tight. “can we have a bath?” you ask quietly.

“we can do whatever you want, baby” he smiles. he lifts you from the bed, carrying you into the ensuite bathroom. he sets you down on the counter, kissing your nose, then your lips gently. “i love you” he whispers.

“i love you, stevie” you smile softly, stroking his cheek. steve makes the perfect bath for you, hot water with calming bath salts and lavender scented bubbles to help relax you. he lefts you and sets you softly in the tub, kissing your head again.

“you want me in with you?” he asks softly, to which you nod. steve sits behind you and pulls you to lay against his chest. the air is serene as steve gently massages your body, cupping water over your skin as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“‘m sorry i hurt you, baby” he whispers once more.

“you’re already forgiven, stevie” you smile, looking up and kissing him softly. “‘m okay” you hum.

#nani’s angels 👼🏽#fanmail 💌#nsfw.nani #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #— nani fantasizes ☽

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tojisun · 1 month

Note

hey hey hey. don't mind me, i'm just a friendly little nit who's come to bring you my brainrot of the day.

i don't know how often you write him, but - just hear me out - gaz with a mommy kink. i feel like he's the type to have lost a lot of his non-military contact with women, including maybe his own family, so he's really just desperate for feminine approval. but the poor baby is too afraid to tell anyone about it because he doesn't want his partner to think he's weird or something like that. :(

so when he comes home from an op, off his rocker from desperation, he accidentally lets it slip while he's practically fucking them like a dog in heat. what he doesn't expect is that they don't mind, and it just melts his brain to nothing.

friendly neighborhood nit, over and out.

I TRIPPED AND FELL AND PASSED OUT READING THIS OHHHH MY GOD!! my friendly neighbourhood nit i hope u know im kissing u on the mouth rn. THANK U FOR THIS BECAUSE- BECAUSE-

i was- i was trying to find this lil slip of a thing i wrote of gaz with a sugar 'mommy' and how it just makes sense... not necessarily an older partner but a mature partner yk? a partner who pampers him and spoils him; who treats him like the king he is, and he is left trembling, aching, his desire bloating-

gnawing on a rock rn !!!

god.

thinking about the way gaz is fucking you so desperately, humping his cock along your walls, muffling his moans on the crook of your neck because his little secret—the shame that he's always carried—is dripping from the column of his teeth, poisonous as it slithers on the tip of his tongue, and kyle wants to–

he wants to–

"fuck, kyle," you whimper, your moan drawing his name out in that delicious way that makes him buckle. he knows tears must be pooling into the corners of your eyes, surely staining the silk pillow sheets, and the image that forms in his mind makes him groan, deep rumbles of his pleasure reverberating from where his chest is pressed on your back.

kyle has you on your knees, gentle and tender, but the slide of his cock in your cunt had him snapping—his restraints are thinning, the fog in his mind gaining strength.

it feels like torture. like pinched pleasure.

it feels like kyle is being edged even when he knows he isn't. because his cock is rutting along the warm press of your walls, being milked for all his worth, and yet–

it's not enough.

the first sob startles him more than it startles you, but kyle is too far gone, mouth agape, letting drool stain the soft caress of your shoulder. he feels your walls clamp down harder on him, your slick gushing along the twitching length of his cock, drenching his crotch, and kyle feels the need throbbing from his gums—

"god, mommy."

the fear that shoots through him is instant, snuffing the peaking elation of his pleasure. apologies gather on the base of his throat, choking him, cutting his air supply short.

messed up, he thinks to himself, already slowing down, pulling away. i fuckin' messed up–

"where's my baby goin', huh?" you croon, desire heavy on your tone.

you turn your head lightly, not enough to meet his eyes but enough that your voice is no longer muffled. "mommy didn't say you could stop, sweet boy."

kyle's body locks, his arms buckling, leaving him to stumble, all of his weight bearing down on you. his cock hits somewhere deeper at the sudden action, snug along the grip of your wet cunt. then, kyle cums, ecstasy razing through him as he mewls, his eyes shut close at the intensity of his pleasure.

he doesn't notice that he's humping your pussy as he shoots his warm cum into your cervix, stuffing you whole. like the good boy that he is.

"mommy, so fuckin' good f'r me. so good f'r me," kyle babbles, words slurring and incomprehensible.

white noise fills his senses, his eyes met with an explosion of blinding static. he is deaf to your squealed moans, not realizing the litanies of your own praises dribbling from your spit-slicked lips until the explosion of his pleasure peter into a quiet simmer.

shame curls in his heart, only for it to be snuffed out because you say, "my perfect boy. s'good f'r me. s'beautiful f'r me."

prickling feeling envelops the backs of his eyes, his body trembling at your continuous reassurances.

you coo, "always makin' me feel good. always pamperin' me. y'r the loveliest boy, kyle. my lovely boy."

kyle hides his face on the back of your shoulders, stifling his sob.

"thank you," he says, voice a quiet tremble.

"shh," you say, breath hitching at his aborted movements, feeling his cock still hitting your sensitive parts. "won't you make mommy cum now, lovie?"

"f'course," kyle replies, heart still wavering because–

how was it all so easy when it comes with you?

he knows you and him will have to talk about this later—semantics need to be smoothed out, establish boundaries. make up rules for kyle to follow.

he shivers, cock twitching with new interest.

"'of course' what, darlin'?"

kyle breathes in sharply at what you're asking. then, "f'course, mommy."

you hum, a happy titter. "good boy."

#anon #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz smut #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cw mommy kink #female reader #ask #suns

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explosionkatsu · 1 year

Text

“Age doesn’t matter” 5

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Hearing what Kazui said made her completely stop. Mama? Why would he think that? Was it because she takes care of him like her own child?

“K-Kazuki. I don't think that's something possible.” Ms. Y/n said washing her hands before she approach the now pouting Kazui.

“Why not?” Kazui said, now tearing up. “My classmates have a mama. Why I don't have one? Why can't I have one?” he was now sobbing.

Seeing his tears pour breaks her heart. Ms. Y/n dreamt of having her own child, but because of how life can be challenging, how she can't afford to buy her own house or a decent permanent job, she set her dream aside and focus on trying to make it at least to the cruel world.

But nothing is crueler to a child not having a mother wanting to have one.

“Shh.” Ms. Y/n carried and embrace Kazui who was sobbing in her arms. “I’m sorry, Kazui.”

Then it suddenly went quiet. Ms. Y/n was still holding Kazui in her arms.

“Kazui?” Ms. Y/n called out, but get no response. When she slowly made her way to a mirror, she saw him fast asleep. She looked at him for a moment, sad that she couldn’t do anything for Kazui. It took a while for her to bring him up to her bedroom and tucked him in, caressing his cheek that was stained from his tears.

Ms. Y/n then left her bedroom. She decided to keep the door open in case she heard him wake up. She strides down the stair and went back to the kitchen where she left some of the burger steaks she molded. As soon as she washed her hands again to proceed, she saw her phone lit up causing her to look at it. When she saw the unknown number, she slightly frowns. But when she clicked on the message, she blinked in surprise.

It was Mr. Bakugou.

Once Katsuki settled in his car, he placed a bag beside him. A thank-you gift for Kazui’s teacher.

Giving anyone a gift isn't his thing, but Ms. Y/n's kind gesture made him want to. This is the least he could do to show her he appreciates what she does.

And so, Katsuki turned on the engine when he received the address he needed and drove his way to the said address. seeing he was nearing the address, he noticed it was close to the school. After just a few minutes of walking, for sure they'd reach it.

He remembered Ms. Y/n telling him there was a near convenience store and taking a right turn. As soon as he turned right, he immediately saw her apartment and slowed down. Once closed, he pulled up but didn't leave his car.

Katsuki is nervous. He didn't know how to approach her. His palms are sweating, and so was his forehead, and believe it or not? This was pissing him off. So with all the courage he has. Wait? Why does he need courage for this? He's just going to pick Kazui and hand his gift to her.

That’s fucking it.

Katsuki groan, starting to get frustrated. Without thinking, he grab the bag beside him and exited his car, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ms. Y/n heard this, making her jump and slightly spilling the hamburger steak sauce. “What was that..” She mumbled to herself and wiped her sauce-filled hand.

She made her way to her apartment door even though she knows it was a bad idea. But curiosity got in her and grab the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door open. She comes face-to-face with Mr. Bakugou who has his hand raised, about to knock.

“U-uh. Good evening! Mr. Bakugou!” She slightly stuttered. “Please come in!”

Seeing him in an awkward position made katsuki's face turn slightly pink, all the way to his ears. “Ahem. Thanks.” He said in a quiet voice.

Ms. Y/n closed the door behind her as soon as Katsuki get in. “I'm sorry about the mess. I have a lot of papers to work on.” She said sweating dropped when she saw him eye the papers stacked on her coffee table. “Please have a seat.” She added as she collect all the papers and headed to her bedroom.

When she came back, she made her way to the kitchen switched the fire off on her stove, and saw Katsuki sitting on the sofa. “Make yourself at home.” She smiled. “You might be looking for Kazui, he’s currently sleeping in my bedroom.”

Ms. Y/n opened one of the kitchen cabinets and grab two glasses. She then grabs a drink and pours the content into the glass.

Katsuki was quiet even though he can hear her talking . He was checking her apartment which was neat, and organized, with no dust in sight. Except for the stack he saw earlier, which was now gone.

Her apartment was indeed small, like what Kazui said. But she made it look homey. Unlike his quiet home. Even though he has all those branded furniture and expensive stuff. Never in a while, had he felt his house homey. But he, sitting in someone’s home? Knowing that Y/n is living alone, single-

Wait, was she single?

Katsuki’s thoughts about her apartment suddenly vanish. I mean, was she by herself?

Getting inquisitive, he looks for a sign of another person living with her. A male person. But all he saw was what a single woman has.

How old was she again? 23? Right. She’s too young and still unraveling her future.

Well, age doesn’t matter to him.

What? The fuck was he thinking? Why would he think that?

Katsuki internally smacks himself in the face. He’s not looking for any relationship right now. After what happened. He’s too scared to try again.

“Here. Seems like you're deep in thought.”

Katsuki blinked being cut off and saw Ms. Y/n place a cup of tea in front of him.

“Thank you.” He said.

Why was he being quiet anyway?

“You’re welcome.” Ms. Y/n smiled at him. “I actually poured you an orange juice and was about to give it to you but it seems like you're stressed. So I made you some tea. I hope you don't mind camomile?” She giggled and went back to the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” Katsuki said. “Where’s Kazui?”

Ms. Y/n blinked. Didn't she say he’s asleep? Maybe Mr. Bakugou was too deep in thought that he wasn't listening to everything you said.

“He’s sleeping in my bedroom.” You chuckled making Katsuki look at you raising an eyebrow which made you panic and immediately apologize.

“Why're you apologizing?” Katsuki asked and gently gran the tea in front of him. The aroma made him relax.

“I was being rude.” Ms. Y/n smiled nervously.

She’s always smiling.

"You're not," Katsuki said and took a sip.

Ms. Y/n only smiled before going back to her kitchen and preparing the plates needed. "Have you had your dinner, Mr. Bakugou?" You asked.

As if on cue, Katsuki's stomach started making a sound making him blush and her, giggle.

"I'll take that as a no." You said. "I made Hamburger steak. Kazui requested it."

"Hah? I swear to god that spoiled ass brat." Katsuki said, this time, out loud.

"Would you want a plate, Mr-

"Just call me Bakugou. I hate this formality and such. It's fucking pissing me off." Katsuki said as he placed the teacup back on the coffee table.

This doesn't surprise you anymore. Why? Because there are times Y/n watches television in her free time and saw how Dynamight swears a lot. Even civilians got used to this.

"Alright, Bakugou." Ms. Y/n chuckled and just prepare another plate for him. "You can go wake Kazui so we can all eat. The more the merrier right?"

"Don't order me around." Katsuki tsked but follow otherwise.

He heard a low sorry when he walked past the kitchen and straight to her bedroom where he saw the door wide open. He was about to go straight inside but he stopped midway. He's trespassing on her privacy. But she was the one who gave him permission, plus, he's only waking Kazui up, so it doesn't matter. So he continued and went straight into her bedroom and saw a double-sized bed where he saw Kazui sleeping peacefully.

"Oi." Katsuki called but got no reponse. "Brat. Wake up. We're going to eat dinner."

Seeing his son won't wake up anytime soon, he picks him up and carries him in his arms. "Kazui, wake up. Ms. Y/n made us dinner. You spoiled brat."

Kazui lightly stirred in his father's arms before completely waking up, and rubbing his eyes. "Papa," he mumbled.

Katsuki only watched his son.

"Where's mama.." Kazui yawned and snuggled back into his arms.

Katsuki was frozen in his place. Shocked, confused, angry? He doesn't know what to feel when he once again heard his son looking for his mother.

"Why are you looking for her?" Katsuki asked, hoping he would get a response despite knowing how drowsy his son is.

"Mama Y/n.."

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugo katuski

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princessslutt · 1 month

Note

girl u absolutely devoured that last one ily

im back and with more i can keep em coming all dayyy

ok so maybe like some innocent!virgin!shy!reader stuff and like rafe is talkint her through it and stuffff

remember to take breaks!!!! love uu🫶🏼🫶🏼

okay. so I’ve been so overwhelmed with how many requests I have inbox, I kinda forced myself to get up and actually write this so I’m sorry for its ass. thank you hun.

———————————————————————-

you’ve always been shy, but around rafe it was different. you had never stopped holding his hand or leaving his side in public.

you got really nervous when the waiter at a restaurant would ask you what you want to eat, so rafe always ordered for you.

you didn’t talk much while I’m public, but rafe always reminds you about how you need to start using your words.

but this whole shy thing melts his heart. he thinks it’s so adorable.

“baby c’mon, talk to the nice waiter. she’s asking you what you want to eat.”

you just shut down, eyes going to your fingers in your lap.

rafe can tell you’re trying not to cry. believe it or not, he starts to feel bad.

“she’ll just have this,” pointing to the menu and then giving them to the waiter so she can take them back.

“was that so hard, doll? you can’t even tell the nice lady what you want to eat.”

at that you just crawl into his lap because you feel safe in his arms.

he just rubs your back and plays with your hair as you slightly fall asleep in his lap, until the food came.

after dinner he convinces you to have sex with him. he knows you’re a virgin, and he knows you’re shy.

but he currently has you laid on your back while his hips thrust into you as the speed of light.

your soft whines and sobs is what’s keeping him going. he knows it has to hurt because he didn’t properly stretch you out.

he feels so selfish for it but he can’t seem to stop. you feel so good around him.

“shhhh … I know baby, I know.” he utters, grabbing both of your legs and pushing them to your chest.

he manages to slip deeper inside of you then he already is.

which makes you yelp out. he notices how you clench around him, knowing you’re about to finish.

he rubs your clit, making you groan. he’s past had you in a chokehold and he knows it.

“c’mon baby, I can feel how tight you are around me. let go for me.”

you could hear the smirk in his voice, he thinks it’s so adorable how just a bit of cock can have you cumming around him.

that’s when the coil snaps, tears falling from your waterline and to the apples of your cheeks.

rafe finally finishes on your stomach. you feel the hot liquid falling down on it.

he quickly goes back and rides out his high. making you overstimulated.

“n-no more rafey please it’s too m-much” you cry out.

“okay, okay.” he says, pulling out slowly and you feel so tired you immediately close your eyes.

“hey hey, you gotta atleast go to the bathroom for me, don’t wanna get a UTI. it’s not fun baby.”

you try your best to nuzzle your way into the pillows, until he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. you look at him, and he knows what’s wrong.

“no need to be shy, baby. I just seen you cum around my cock.”

———————————————————————-

˚˖𓍢ִ🩰✧˚.🎀୨୧ ⋅˚₊

@avaavvavaa

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe smut

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via-l0ve · 8 months

Note

Hi! Uhh, would you mind writing for the spn guys w/ a reader who's bad at showing affection the "normal" way and likes to give ppl stuff? And not like regular gifts, just things that remind them of the guys. Like beads or old bracelets or cool rocks & other shiny stuff. No. I'm not a crow. Y would u think that. Uh,,, bye. Drink sum water

Gifts! (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: this idea is SO CUTE. i literally love it. also sorry for lowkey disappearing lol, im sick with i don’t even know what and i’ve been in my depressed era but IM BACK BABES. PROMISES.

warnings: nothing!!! swearing i guess (should i even include this as a warning anymore? swearing is like my second language.)

Dean:

dean cherishes EVERYTHING you get him

“dean?”

“yeah y/n?”

“i got you this rock.”

“oh, really?”

he carries the rock with him in his jacket pocket because it’s just so smooth and nice and it’s from you!

i feel like he would find random bottle caps and start a collection with you

“dean!! look! i found this old bracelet on the road. it’s so cute right? and shiny. it’s for you.”

“thank you.” *literally melts.*

—

Sam:

DONT GET MAD AT ME!!!

Sometimes sam throws the stuff away

ONLY TO MAKe ROOM FOR THE NEW STUFF

he thought it was a little odd at first

“a bead… reminded you of me.”

“yeah!!”

“…okay then.”

he quickly falls in love with your habits

he finds himself picking up on them and stuff

he stores them all in a little shoe box

im sobbing. that’s so cute

the box has “nike” scribbled out and sam wrote “y/n’s gifts” on it instead

it’s so cute

—

Castiel:

CAS FUCKING LOVES IT

he gets you little trinkets too

they’re not as random as yours but one time he went to a thrift store and found a little trinket of a mouse and was like “this is y/n.”

but he has a little container for all of the beads/bracelets you give him

he puts all of your rocks in a very organized and pretty order

he loves the shiny things the most

you got him a pin that said #1 dad

despite him not being a dad

he was like

“this is the best gift i’ve ever gotten.”

wears it nonstop.

—

Crowley:

he’s a little confused at first

“you got me… a rock?”

“yeah!”

“…why?”

“it just reminded me of you!!!”

idk if you guys have seen Guardians of the Galaxy but in the scene where it shows Yondu’s collection of little toys he sets on the ship before he drives it??

that’s crowley

he puts all of his favorite things you get him right on his throne or in his pockets

he grows to love it

—

Gabriel:

he can’t get enough of it

you get him weird little pins and sparkly things and he adds them to his ensemble daily

he keeps them all

never throws anything out

“i found this chip and it’s shaped like texas.”

“i love it.”

you guys are on a walk around town and you find him an old bracelet that says “pookie” and you give it to him and he wears it EVERYWHERE

sam/dean/cas/crowley see it one day

“pookie?”

“yeah. that’s my nickname.”

“who the fuck gave you that nickname?”

“y/n.”

he shows off everything you give him

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #gabriel x reader #gabriel #dean winchester supernatural #castiel supernatural #sam winchester supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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ichikopotato · 1 month

Note

plss smut w older tom i BEG u btw i love ur writing . (maybe daddy kink if ure comfortable ?)

This goes HARD.

pairings : t.kaulitz 2017 x brat! reader

synopsis : you’ve been teasing your husband the whole car ride back to your place after an event, your husband has had enough nd’ wanting to put you back into your place.

warnings : smut(obvi), suggestive in the car, rough sex, mean!tom, bratty reader, teasing, brat tamer tom, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spitting, crying kink, degradation, daddy kink, mentions of “baby, princess, slutty baby, Schlampiges Mädchen, hure” Overall really smutty (hehe)

a/n : its been so long (playing fnaf ost), thank you lovelies for staying with me patiently! I love you all, responding to more requests later.

-> YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND are coming home after an event with the band. You’ve managed to get under his skin once again, teasing him nonstop as you got into the car. Rubbing him, whispering dirty things in his ear, even stroking him as he drives.

Once you’ve both gotten back to your shared home, he immediately gets out the car, carrying you into the house. “Tom— wait!” You yelp, earning a slap on your rear end as a result, as he continues to carry you to your bedroom.

“babybaby, calm down.” You whine softly, as he throws you roughly onto the soft mattress beneath you. He pulls you out of your dress, leaving you in your lingerie.

“Princess, what was going on inside your head to think that you’d get away with teasing daddy, huh baby?” He grunted, admiring your half naked figure infront of him.

You giggled, biting your nail as you looked up at him seductively. “You’re just really fun to tease n’play with, daddy.” You paused for a moment, before continuing.

“And if m’such a bad girl, why don’t you punish me, daddy?”

It was a mistake.

You had wished you’ve never provoked your loving, sweet husband into punishing you for your actions. Leading you to your current state right now.

Sobbing, drooling all over the pillow that he smushed your face in. Moaning uncontrollably as he rutted in you relentlessly. “fuck— such a slutty little thing.” he groaned, head resting on your shoulder.

You whimpered, sobbing into the pillow as you moaned. “daddy— ah.. i-its too much!” you whined, your hands held together behind your back by his hands.

“ohoh, baby. weren’t you the one who said, punish me, oh punish me daddy!” he mocked your voice, chuckling. “now, shut the fuck up and be a good Schlampiges Mädchen f’daddy, kay?” he smirked.

You had no choice but to oblige, as you creamed all over his shaft once more. He flipped you over onto your back, his cock almost bursting at the sight of your flushed face.

Tears rolling down your cheeks, your cheeks flushed, drool all over your chin, eyes slightly closed. “fuck, baby. You really look like a hure right now f’daddy.” He laughed, slapping your wet folds.

You yelp, making your hips buck forward. “open up, princess.” Making you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

He let out a drop of spit, letting it fall onto your tongue. You swallow, opening your mouth again. “Such a slutty baby, huh? my slutty baby.” He smiled, before thrusting into your tight hole once more.

You whine, letting out more tears as you brought your small hands to his abdomen, trying to stop his movements as you moaned out in ecstasy.

“daddydaddy— s’too.. t-too muchhh” you mewled, as he let out a chuckle, grunting. “Take it princess, you always do a good job, right? yeahyeah- now take it f’me.” He smirked.

“Gonna cum in you again, baby. gon’ make you a mommy, huh?” He groaned, releasing his load into you. You moaned, clawing at his shoulders as you both reached your highs.

After a few long minutes, both your breathing turned back to normal. “was I too rough, schatzi?” “you okay baby?” “do you need anything?” “I love you so much, meine liebe.”

I mean, how can your husband be so sweet after being a feral monster to you and your pussy?

DAMNNNN, THAT WAS GOOD IG. THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME! I LOVE YOU ALL, STAY SAFE ANGELS 💋

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz smut #daddy's good girl #im cryin #so good #daddy’s babygirl #daddy k!nk #tom kaulitz angst

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

🍓 “good girl.” With Remus

okay so I took a completely different approach on this one and did dad!remus … hope u still like it angel!! and thank you for the request 🤍

summary: yours and remus’ daughter, daisy, throws a mini tantrum. remus handles it like a champ

mum!reader 0.8k words

Yours and Remus’s daughter looks exactly like you. If you were four years old and quite a bit smaller. She’s got your eyes, your skin tone, your lovely hair. Even her nose is a carbon copy of yours. Remus would be jealous if she wasn’t so pretty. He’s always wanted a kid that looks like him, but one that looks like you is even better.

She’s got a grumpy face that’s shockingly similar to yours, too. She’s pulling it now, sitting on the kitchen bench with her legs swinging and her arms crossed, scowling at Remus so fiercely it’s almost not cute. Almost.

“Daisy girl,” he says patiently. He never wants to lose his patience with her. Ever. Even now, when he’s unhappy with her because she’d shouted at you when you were just trying to help. “You made your mum real upset, you know that?”

Daisy shakes her head vigorously and shouts, “No!”

Remus doesn’t know what she’s saying no to and isn’t sure she knows, either. He sighs.

“No what, baby?” He asks. One of Daisy’s kicking legs catches him in the thigh and he sets a hand over her knee to stop the movement. He squeezes her soft, squishy thigh gently, to let her know he’s not mad. She’s so small his fingers spread all the way to her hip.

She visibly softens under her touch. Her bottom lip wobbles. “No,” she says again, less angry and far more sad.

Daisy promptly bursts into tears. Remus’s heart cracks into a million pieces. Sure, he’s not happy about the shouting, but seeing his little girl cry never fails to break his poor heart.

It only gets worse from there. Daisy starts wailing. Remus has no choice but to scoop her up in his arms and hold her to his chest as if that will glue his heart back together.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes. He holds her with one arm under her butt while his free hand rubs small circles on her back. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Daisy cries and cries and cries. Remus knows you’re gonna appear before you do. You’re not very much stronger than him, when it comes to Daisy’s cries.

You’ve got a look on your face close to heartbreak as you appear in the kitchen doorway. Remus has a funny feeling you’ve been standing just out of sight this whole time. He meets your eyes and frowns.

“Dais,” he says softly into her ear. She’s still crying, shaking from the sobs, but she’s quieter now. She really does sound very sad. “Mummy’s back now. Did you want to say sorry?”

Daisy calms down enough to pull away slightly and look Remus in the eyes. Her face all wet and flushed, eyelashes sticking together, cheeks hot and pink. Remus doesn’t like it one bit. He uses his thumb to push away her sticky tear tracks as she nods.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely, her breaths shaky like they always are when she cries like this.

Remus smiles at her softly. “Okay, then.”

He carries her over to you and she hides in his neck on the way over. Her face is warm and wet on his skin. He can hear every little tremble in her breathing and it takes everything he has not to break down crying himself.

He encourages Daisy out of her hiding place once he’s close to you. She appears, all tear-streaked and so very sad. Remus props her higher on his hip and twists his shoulders so she’s facing you.

“Good girl,” he says to her, softly, encouraging. He strokes a thumb over her hip. “Go on.”

Daisy is quiet for a moment. Then,

“M’sorry, mummy,” she says, quiet as a mouse but so sincere it has both Remus and you smiling like idiots.

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, never one to hold grudges. You hold your arms out for her and she goes to you immediately.

Remus watches with so much love it hurts as you wrap her up tightly and lay kiss after kiss to her head.

“It’s alright, baby,” you say sweetly. “You know I just wanted to help you, yeah?”

Daisy nods into your shoulder. Remus feels a rush of pride that at least something he’d said to her had stuck.

“I understand that I made you mad, though. I should’ve explained better.” You pull back and Daisy follows suit. You look her in the eyes and smile softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Daisy falls right back into your chest. “That’s okay, mama.”

You smile so big Remus is sure it aches, your hand rubbing her back soothingly. You meet Remus’s eyes over Daisy’s shoulder, a look on your face that says thank you.

Remus kisses you in lieu of a you’re welcome.

#★ mal writes!#ღ remus #𖤐 2k celebration!#remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff #dad!remus lupin #dad!remus lupin x reader #✉️

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fayesia · 6 months

Note

Hello, I hope this doesn't bother you but I had an idea for mike schmidt. Imagine him and the reader are fighting and the reader leaves him. Ever since the reader left him he starts to loose his mind cause he needs the reader to function. Abby notices her brother's situation so she makes it her mission to get him and the reader back together.

Short and Sweet — mike schmidt x reader

a/n: Hiii ofc u r not bothering me! Thank you for the request, congrats you’re the first one so i’m very much appreciative!!! I hope i did justice to your idea, again i’m kind of new to all of this but hopefully you like it :D

“god your so selfish do you even think before you act!!”

You can feel the eyes of people passing by as they return to their cars and pack away their shopping. Except you don’t care, not when this is the third time Mike has forgotten to pick Abby up from school.

“come on at least say something!”

“GODDAMNIT, i’m sorry ok!!”

“well sorry’s not enough Mike! Because when i get home from work and she comes running into my arms having already had a bad day at school it’s on you for making it worse” you exclaim back to him slamming the car door shut.

He does the same, quickly started the engine and driving with rough movements.

“oh yeah, now what? you’re gonna get us both in a car crash, leave your sister alone again-“

“oh my god ENOUGH OK shut up!!”

You fumble with your fingers looking out the window, not in sadness or fear but rather an immense amount of anger. You knew that your emotions would take over your response and you were not going to cry in front of Mike as if what he said effected you.

He parks in the driveway, opens the trunk to collect the groceries and rushes through the front door. You follow after him entering the bedroom and collecting all your things from the closet and bathroom. carrying your duffel bag, you make your way retrieving any items left around the house. Your wallet, keys, shoes and a picture of you and abby are collected as you leave back outside to your car parked across the road.

Sitting down in the drivers seat you stare blankly ahead slowly lowering your head to rest against the steering wheel, soft crys quickly turning into loud sobs that rack through your body. They continue until you reach your apartment, gloomily walking into the place you haven’t been in for months, having spent most days of the week at Mikes house. This place doesn’t feel homely like his though, rather it’s cold and depressing reflecting how you felt right now, which really wasn’t helping.

You’re pulled away from these thoughts as your phone starts ringing. ‘Abby bear’ flashes on your screen as you clear your throat to remove any hints of you crying.

“Hi Abby what’s up?”

“why did you leave” her shaky voice almost has you in tears again.

“what did mike say honey? i’m not leaving forever i just needed to get some stuff from my place”

“he said you were gonna be gone for awhile but would come back. I think he’s lying though his eyes are all red like he’s been crying and he hasn’t moved from your spot on the couch”.

As you listen to her soft voice explain all of this more tears drop down to your chin.

“i’m sorry abby i just think we need a break from each other i don’t know for how long but its something that needed to happen sooner rather than later. I promise i’ll come by and visit you soon, maybe Friday for this weeks movie night?”

“Yayy ok sounds good”

“i have to go now sweetie but make sure you finish all your homework and then you can relax”

“ok byee y/n love u”

“bye abby bear i love you too”

ending the call, you’re left with a gut wrenching feeling spending the rest of the evening crying yourself to sleep on the couch. pitiful? maybe. but you really needed this and now was the right time.

While you spent hours sleeping the pain away, Mike was basically doing the same thing. Abby walked up to him handing him a tub of ice cream “i heard from a movie that eating ice cream makes you less sad after a breakup”

“that’s not true Abby”

her face drops a little at this, Mike quickly trying to cover up his mistake.

“but thank you, why don’t we both eat ice cream and watch a movie”

“ok!!” she settles herself next to him, cuddling into his side with blankets strewn across their laps.

Abby was not very knowledgeable about breakups, only being ten years old herself, and the most she experienced in the romance department was having a crush on the fastest runner in her class.

She did know however that the way Mike was acting was not healthy for him. He spent hours on the couch or in bed, barely eating and if he wasn’t doing that then he would be at work or picking Abby up from school, sometimes they would go and get frozen yogurt which Abby loved the most. She just wished you were there with them like before, when the three of you would go together and spend hours having fun at park.

Abby knew she had to do something, anything she could to get things back to the way they were and she knew just the way to do that.

It had been a week since the break up and neither you or mike seemed to be doing to well in Abby’s opinion but she had a plan set up and tonight she was putting it into action.

Mike received a message from you, his eyes widening as he read, “meet at the park 6pm” a short and simple text. Effective too with the way Mike jumped up running to the closet to pull out his nicest shirt and trousers, and then to the bathroom to shower and prepare him for the night to come.

Abby giggled to herself as she heard the commotion from her brother, taking his phone she started phase two of the plan.

‘bzzz’ you flayed your arm around in an attempt to grab your phone, a yelp coming from your throat as you read the message on the screen. A singular sentence from Mike that read, “meet at the park 6pm”. You expected to read more but that seemed to be it. Short and sweet. You layed out a simple long sleeve top and your favourite pair of jeans, readying yourself for an everything shower.

Soon it was 5:55 and both you and Mike climbed up opposite ends of the hill to the park situated right at the top. There in the middle was a bench and that bench was surrounded by rose petals, with a rose bouquet in the middle, and the bench itself was surrounded by mini lights illuminating the area with a gentle yellow tone similar to the sky’s as the sun set. All of this of course was done courtesy of Abby and you were quick to realise when mikes face was filled with shock when stumbling over one of the yellow lamps, it was clear he was not the one who had set this up. However that didn’t matter to you, the feeling of being swept off your feet into Mikes arms instead was all you were thinking about. He pulled you close to his chest whispering how sorry he was over and over again into your hair as your head rested against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. You silently basked in the feeling of his comfort you dearly missed for that lonesome week the two of you spent apart, not quite ready yet to utter the words ‘i forgive you’ and he knew that after all the hateful words he’d said.

Instead you both sat together on the bench looking out at the setting sun, content with each other presence and no words. As nightfall was falling upon the park Mike grabbed your hand “gotta get back now, Abby will be waiting” he brushed your hand with his thumb for awhile almost hesitant to say something as you waited patiently. “do you want to come?” you break out into a smile, “of course, i always want to go with you”, you reply already dragging him by the arm to the directions of his house.

His house which you knew inside had a very nervous ten year old girl who would see you both walk through the door holding hands and celebrate the most out of all of you.

~unedited~

#mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x y/n

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lettersofgold · 5 months

Text

in my head — trent alexander arnold

trent alexander arnold x singer!reader collaboration with @808heartz

genre: angst | warnings: mentions of infidelity, cursing, drinking

smau link -> 🖇️

“You are so selfish!" Trent quickly turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, his jaw clenched. "I'm selfish?" "Yes, absolutely!" you replied without hesitation.

Trent retorted, "If that's the case, why are you here, huh? What's keeping you here?"

"Because I love you!" you said with raw emotion. Trent didn't seem convinced and retorted, "Maybe you should start acting like it, for fuck's sake! All you do is yell at me."

"It is embarrassing for me to repeatedly explain that you are always 'busy' and can't show up to support me. Yet here you are, sitting on your ass without a care in the world."

"I couldn't be bothered with your event. Wanting the cameras to see us together? Real convenient, that.”

As you stood there, stunned and tears rolling down your face, you took two steps back. You didn't realize just how close you were: you were screaming in Trent's face, feeling his breath on your skin. His words knocked you backward, and you felt the instinct to run, but not before saying your piece: "You're such an asshole," you whispered.

"And you're a needy bitch." He replied.

You fell for Trent so quickly that it made your head spin. He had a way of building you up and tearing you down in the blink of an eye. At first, you thought the arguments were just passionate discussions, but soon enough, they turned into shouting matches - him saying you were too controlling, you saying he was a constant flake. Even during intimate moments, there was a coldness in him that you chose to ignore. He would cut you off and ghost you for days, then appear as if nothing happened. You justified it by telling yourself that Trent was silently processing his emotions - he was merely clearing his head. For Trent, that looked like getting cozy with the girl he said was never someone you had to worry about. It was blasted over social media, and the news blinded you. He admitted to it because he was caught red-handed, holding hands with his new fling on holiday.

You thought you knew Trent - his fears, heart, and passions. You loved all the parts of him, especially the parts that the world didn't see. You had crafted an elaborate and beautiful image of him in your mind. But when cracks started to show, you were confronted with the harsh reality that he wasn't who you thought he was. You sat there, drinking and mourning the man you thought he was - staring at them, hand in hand so publicly. It was the one thing you wanted and he refused. He kept you a secret so he could be with whoever he wanted and clearly, it was a girl who you shook hands with, a girl who smiled your fucking face. Your sobs were so loud that when your best friend stepped through the door, he dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed to you. He took the glass from your hands, wrapped you up, and held you. You felt hollow, betrayed, and unsure how someone who claimed to love you could choose to hurt you

It took a whole year, but finally, you had completely recovered. You were feeling happier. A few months back, you teased the release of your upcoming album, and fans were eagerly anticipating the first single. As you were in the process of creating the album and picking out the lead single, you decided to give Trent a heads up on his name being mentioned in your upcoming single, "Thank u, next."

You: [mp4 attached] You should hear it first - if you don't want me to add it to the album, I understand. Trent: I don't care. Do what you need to do.

Trent's blunt and swift response showed you once again how much he did not care. You refused to feel guilty loving him. You released your second album with that chapter of your life firmly behind you. The reception it received was unexpected. The label was worried about its sales potential, given that it was only your sophomore album. However, to your immense joy, your single charted at #1 for more than two months, and the album broke records in terms of sales - you cried tears of happiness. The press requests kept coming in, but you held back. You trusted only one source enough to open up completely to, knowing that any other interview would only add to the confusion about who exactly you were referring to in your songs. You made multiple references to your relationship with Trent but doubted that it could be confirmed that it was him. You were in the same places multiple times but never explicitly pictured together. The closest could be you at Anfield earlier in the year, but you were relaxed. Your interview with Zach Sang changed that overnight.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but what was the inspiration for "thank u, next"? Or, who rather?" Zach Sang asked, earning a chuckle from you.

“The inspiration? Oh god,” you laughed. “Probably getting cheated on by a stupid soccer player.”

"Oh, that'll do it! That's horrible."

"Yeah. It ruined me last year, and I was in such a bad place, but I've grown from it now, definitely. Writing the album and taking time for myself really forced me to look inward and choose myself."

“Before we go, I would love to know your favorite song or part of the album.”

“Oh, that’s a hard one. Besides Needy, it’s the voicemail my best friend sent me at the beginning of In My Head. I was in the studio bawling my eyes out when he left that voicemail - once I played it back, I knew it set the tone for that song.”

Trent said what he said and stood by it: He didn’t care, and you needed to do what was best for you. He saw the tweets about the album from the fan accounts that tagged him but he didn’t overthink it. You stopped posting altogether after the breakup; radio silence. But after “thank u, next”, things were awkward for him - it was becoming evident to his friends and a few teammates that you were talking about him specifically when you said: ‘Wrote some songs about Trenty, now I listen and laugh.” He ignored it and shut down any related conversation, thinking one song and one line was the worst of it. It was far from it, and the whole album was about him. Trent could not escape you even when he was with another woman - he was sprawled in her bed as she was getting ready when he heard your voice. The lyrics sent a chill down his spine.

Yeah, look at you, boy, I invented you Your Gucci tennis shoes runnin' from your issues Cardio good for the heart (for the heart, for the heart) I figure we can work it out, hmm Wanted you to grow, but, boy, you wasn't budding Everything you are made you everything you aren't I saw your potential without seein' credentials Maybe that's the issue (Yeah, yeah) Said maybe that's the issue, ah Can't hold that shit against you, ah Yes, I did it to myself, yeah Thought you were somebody else, you

Trent ran to his phone scouring your spotify to see if that was an old song. The cover of the album with the words just released made his stomach drop. His night was filled with anxious energy. Trent’s focus was on you while he was eating with her. His phone was overheating with mentions and comments. He felt tormented by it. Twitter and Instagram were flooded with mentions about him being the inspiration behind his ex's album. Trent was overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. He thought about talking to his public relations manager but ultimately decided against it, knowing that the news would eventually reach her. Trent thought about his teammates and how embarrassed he would feel entering the locker room after his face was plastered everywhere. Although it appeared to be a blow to his ego it was more than that. It was because he had treated his ex poorly. He couldn’t change the past but it didn’t feel as if the future would be better. His mind raced as he failed to sleep, reflecting on a conversation they had in the very bed he was in.

“What was it like?” You spoke softly. You were breathless after spending countless hours entwined in his sheets, the sound of your breathy voice still echoing in his mind. You felt uninspired and utterly stuck in writing your second album at that moment. You always told him that winning a Grammy was your ultimate goal since you entered the music industry. Trent found it endearing how much you respected him as a person and as an athlete who had achieved so much so quickly in his football career.

“Most incredible feeling ever. I’m just a boy from Liverpool ya know? And all my dreams came true. The fans, my boys, my brothers…. Nothing like it.” After a long while of silence, he could sense your growing frustration. Trent leaned closer to you, bringing his lips within inches of yours, and drew your attention away from those thoughts towards him.

“One day, you will be on that stage, crying and thanking everyone.” He kissed you softly on the lips, deepening it as you giggled. Your lips were soft and wet against his and he was obsessed with the feeling. He pulled away, determined to boost your confidence. "When you're on stage and I'm in the crowd, you can say, 'To the man who told me I could do it, thank you,' and then we can celebrate all night long, yeah?"

You smiled and climbed on top of him, kissing him in a way that made him feel alive. "I love you," you said as you leaned in to kiss his neck, sending a wave of heat through his body. He was unsure of what to do because he knew you weren't the only one with a hold on him. He simply hummed in response, "I know." He didn't waste time before diving back inside you, drawing out endless sweet sounds. He knew this relationship with you was doomed from the start.

Trent was emotionally distant and unfaithful, which was a recipe for heartbreak - and it wasn’t going to be his. He gathered the courage to sneak into his bathroom and call you, but the call went straight to voicemail. Despite feeling embarrassed, Trent called again, determined to at least leave a genuine apology in your voicemail. His heart thumped so hard that he feared his girlfriend could hear it from where she slept.

“I know what I did was awful… I’m sorry. I am, and uh, I hope things are going well for you. I listened to the album, and it was great - I hope it gets you the Grammy you always wanted. I hope it’s everything you ever dreamed of…just call me or not. I don’t know, I’m sorry..” He hung up the phone awkwardly, refusing to listen to it again, and waited for a response that didn’t come until early the following day.

You: You did what you needed to do. Please don’t contact me anymore. I’m not interested in any apologies or reconnections. Treat them better, Trent.

“Pete,” you whispered quietly to your boyfriend. The Grammys was nerve wrecking theory but actually sitting the audience after waiting so long made you question if you were meant to be there. “I’m going to be sick, best pop vocal album is next.” Pete nodded and reached for you, giving it a squeeze. “You've got this in the bag, baby.” Pete - the light in the darkness that Trent created. Pete made it known how attracted he was to you but you turned him down almost immediately. You couldn’t trust anyone. So he waited, never forcing his feelings on you - simply being a friend to you. He made you laugh, and sat with you for hours in the studio, making sure you rested and were well-fed. Pete was everything you wanted Trent to be. Pete was the man you created Trent out to be in your head.

The presenter stood on the stage and rattled off a few jokes as the cameras began to crowd around the nominees. Your name was called and you dipped your head with a deathly tight grip on your boyfriend’s hand. You didn't even realize it but it was you - you won the Grammy. Pete said your name multiple times before it dawned on you. You were reluctant to move from your seat because surely it was a mistake. But no, you did it. Your dream has just come true. Pete squeezed your hand three times, the silent code you created to say “I love you” to one another in crowded rooms and events. His watery eyes met yours and you couldn't hold your tears.

The microphone was shaky as you began to thank each and every person you could remember. The clock was counting you down but you didn't care - this was your moment. You talked for a full thirty seconds before wiping a few tears, standing up straighter to stare directly into the camera.

“I wasn't expecting to win tonight, so this is.. a little crazy. I just want to thank everyone who's supported me and the album, it's been such a journey from then to now. To my fans, to my management, my friends, and Pete - I love ya’ll. Thank you again.” The crowd cheered for you and for a moment they thought it was over. But you had one more thing to say.

“And to the person who broke my heart, thank you for helping me win this Grammy.”

smau by @808heartz -> 🖇️

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