#as in i reply to your asks in private but

[afroslacks]

taps mic! is this thing on ?!

i saw ur post about requests nd i just have to be the little bee in others ears when i ask this … can i request a blurb or anything you want to make it!! where said reader is extremely hardhead and stubborn nd disobeys stack/and or smokes orders abt not being at the juke because of the type of business that will be occurring there .. nd stack/and or smoke catches them 🙊….. ive been thinking about this alllllllllll month 🙈

Your heels crunch on the gravel as you wrap your thin shawl around your chest to combat the night air. When you reach the door, Cornbread stands up, blocking your path.

“Uh-uh, little lady. I can’t let you in.”

You scoff in surprise, feeling hurt by your friend excluding you. “Cornbread, it's me.”

Cornbread shakes his head, touching the edge of his hat. “You know I would let you, but the twins made it clear to keep you away from all this,” he argues, nodding toward the building.

You roll your eyes, the boys once again robbing you of the opportunity to make your own decisions. “Fuck the twins. And if they ask, I’ll tell them myself that I let myself in.”

Cornbread steps aside, no longer standing in the way of your burning rage.

As your heels click across the barn’s floors, you take in the low lighting and brown bodies that fill the Juke Joint. The music blares, conversations overlap, and bodies move with rhythm and purpose. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of booze, food, and lounging. You feel proud of your boys for pulling this off themselves—it just sucks that they chose to exclude you from being a part of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the Moore twins make eye contact as they spot your familiar face in the Joint. How could they ever forget the person who stole their hearts ten years ago—and kept them—even after they’d left the Delta?

The love they felt for you was many things: passionate, raw, kind, pure... all they could ever ask for. But after killing their father for abusing them, and a white man for hurting you, they knew they couldn’t stay. It killed them to leave you—but they had to.

As you glide across the room, you make your way to the bar and see a familiar face: Annie.

“Hello, beautiful,” you greet an older version of your friend.

“Hello to you, old friend. What are you doing here? You know those boys will kill Cornbread once they find out,” she responds, shaking her head at your reckless behavior.

You take off your shawl. “I’ll make sure they won’t. They can take their anger out on me.”

Then, you feel a familiar presence cast a shadow over you, causing your heart rate to spike.

“What are you doing here, girl?” Stack asks in your ear. Your body flutters at the sound of his voice.

You turn your head slightly. “Just wanting to party,” you say, knowing damn well he won’t let that slide.

“You not supposed to be here,” he replies, leaning in closer.

Your body fully turns to face him in defiance. “I go wherever I want. You’re not in charge of me, boy.”

He scoffs at your oh-so-familiar attitude—the one he’s missed so much. “Come with me.”

Stack takes your arm in his grip and leads you upstairs to a private balcony, where Smoke stands with his arms crossed, looking at you.

“What the hell are you doin’ here? I told Cornbread not to let yo’ ass in.”

Your arm rips itself from Stack’s grasp. “I let myself in. It has nothing to do with him.”

Smoke shakes his head, walking closer. “We told you to stay away from us—to keep you safe. But here you are, being hard-headed as usual,” Smoke berates.

“It’s been seven years. Don’t nobody care anymore, Elijah.”

Stack cuts in. “These town folk talk about us like we’re urban legends. You ain’t got no business with us, girl.”

You smack your lips at that crazy talk. “I sat here for seven years hoping you both made a mistake and would come home. But you left me here—alone. Missing you like you were the air I needed to breathe. But you never cared. Neither of you.”

Smoke—a man of few words, but when he talks, you listen��speaks up. “You think we wanted to leave you behind? After we killed two people, we didn’t stand a chance in this town. And you knew it.”

Stack crowds your back, wrapping an arm around your waist, while Smoke places his hands on your jaw, forcing you to break eye contact.

“Baby, you don’t know how many times during the war, and in Chicago, we dreamed of you—and the family we could’ve had.”

Your lips tremble and tears line your eyes as you fight to hold your gaze.

“Before we left, we made sure to leave you something—jewels, valuables, and cash. I see you still got some of it,” he says, tugging gently at the gold necklace hidden within your dress.

Your throat closes up at his words, his touch, and the way both twins are breaking you down—body and soul.

“We wanted you to be well off and happy, even if it wasn’t with us. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to give up your life to be with us—we’re nothing but trouble.”

You rapidly shake your head in his grip.

“No, you’re not. Don’t listen to them. They don’t know who you really are or what you’ve been through. They haven’t had the pleasure of knowing who you both are.”

Your hand interlocks with Stack’s, resting on your face. Your other hand cradles Smoke’s cheek.

You lean in closer, tears silently streaming as you rock gently with the twins.

“I love you both. And I’m not going anywhere,” you promise before pressing your lips to Smoke’s and feeling Stack plant kisses on your neck, tightening his grip on your waist.

[psformybss]

could write smthn ab actress reader n drew going to f1, n drew myb getting a little jealous at the drivers obviously trying to charm her

No Overtaking Allowed

drew starkey x actress!reader

a/n: ngl this is not my best work. i also dont know much about f1 so all of the information in here was provided by my boyfriend and google so im sorry if something is wrong 😭

The sun spilled like molten gold over the Monaco harbor, turning the water into something unreal. Everything shimmered. The air buzzed with salt, champagne, and the kind of money that made your teeth ache if you looked at it too long. You stood on the private terrace of a luxury suite above the famous street circuit, arms loosely crossed, trying not to let the glamor make your eyes roll too far back in your head.

“I feel underdressed,” you muttered, watching a woman glide by in head-to-toe Dior, balancing a tiny espresso in one hand and a Yorkie in the other like it was nothing.

Drew stood behind you, sunglasses pushed into his hair, hands tucked in his pockets like he wasn’t currently surrounded by some of the richest people on Earth. “You’re wearing custom Louis Vuitton.”

“Exactly. Custom. Someone had to design me into this setting. That woman just woke up and manifested wealth.”

He laughed, warm and low. “You look incredible.”

You turned your head just enough to glance at him. “Don’t try to distract me with compliments.”

“I’m not distracting. I’m stating facts.”

“Mm. Convenient how your facts always make me feel hotter.”

“That’s just science, babe.”

You gave a short laugh and leaned against the railing. Below, the circuit looked impossibly narrow, like a dare wrapped in steel and asphalt. Pit crews and media buzzed around the grid, the last few minutes of calm before the thunder.

“Remind me again why we’re pretending this is safe?” you asked.

Drew moved closer until his arm brushed yours. “Because pretending is more fun.”

“You say that like someone who’s never had a tire fly at their head.”

“I mean, not yet.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“That’s what keeps it spicy.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek. You didn’t lean away.

The sound of engines building swallowed any reply. Your gaze snapped downward as the cars lined up. One by one, the lights went out and the start exploded in a rush of sound and velocity. They tore through Sainte Devote like missiles.

“Two-stop rule this year,” you said over the roar. “Love that they tried to manufacture excitement with tire math.”

Drew tilted his head. “The what rule?”

You smiled. “Two mandatory pit stops. They’re hoping it’ll force more strategy, maybe shake up the order. It’s Monaco though, so basically still a parade.”

Drew smirked. “You know way too much about this.”

“It’s called having hobbies.”

He squinted at the screen overhead. “Which car is ours again?”

You laughed. “We don’t have one, babe. We’re neutral spectators. But if you mean who I’d pick—Ferrari, obviously.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “Because… the red’s fast?”

“They’re not even leading this season.”

“But they look good?”

You gave him a look. “That’s like saying a guy’s a good actor because he’s tall.”

“…Okay, I deserved that.”

You smiled, eyes flicking back to the screen. When one of the Ferraris clipped the barrier near the tunnel, you flinched and Drew’s arm circled your waist.

“You good?”

“Heart’s racing.”

He tilted closer. “Mine too. Though that might just be you.”

You snorted, resting your hand over his. For a while, neither of you said much. Just watched.

When the checkered flag waved and the crowd roared for Lando Norris, you let out a low whistle.

“Well,” you said. “Guess I owe someone a drink. Again.”

“Told you he was due.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“Sure I do. It’s like betting. Eventually the guy has to win.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re here.”

Drew beamed like he’d just won a bet.

The paddock buzzed with post-race chaos. Photographers darted through teams, glittering PR reps barked into headsets, and mechanics began the slow teardown. You and Drew walked side by side, fingers brushing.

You were halfway to hospitality when someone called out.

“Drew?”

You turned just as Anya Taylor-Joy appeared, somehow untouched by the oppressive heat and humidity. She looked impossibly cool in a flowing white dress and oversized sunglasses, not a single strand of hair out of place.

She pulled Drew into a quick hug before turning to you with a grin.

“And my favorite person.”

You smirked. “You only say that because I promised you early access to the new Knives Out movie.”

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock betrayal. “How dare you accuse me of being both manipulative and correct.”

Drew let out a quiet laugh beside you. “She’s got a point.”

You turned to him with a raised brow. “Whose side are you on?”

“Whoever brings snacks to the screening,” he said, deadpan.

Anya nodded approvingly. “See, this is why I like him.”

The banter flowed easily, the three of you falling into a familiar rhythm. You’d met Anya a few times on set visits, and always appreciated her quick wit and easy charm. Drew stood comfortably between you both, that relaxed glint in his eye that only showed up when he wasn’t on.

A few minutes later, you glanced toward the crowd and took a step back. “I think I’m gonna wander a bit.”

Drew looked over, brow furrowing. “You sure? We just got here.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I just need to move. People-watch. Breathe a little.”

He studied you for a beat. “Stay close.”

“I’ll be in yelling distance,” you promised, already easing into the flow of the crowd.

“Text me if anyone gives you a hard time,” he called after you.

You tossed a smirk over your shoulder. “Only if it’s a pack of wild drivers. Or Cate Blanchett.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile lingered. “Noted.”

You wandered toward one of the temporary bars. The crowd had thinned a little, but the energy was still thick. It wasn’t long before someone stepped into your path.

“Excuse me,” a British voice said. “I hope this isn’t weird, but were you in Glass Onion?”

You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall driver, hair damp from his helmet, smile confident but not too polished.

“Yeah,” you said, surprised. “That was me.”

“I knew it. You were brilliant. I watched it on a flight last month.”

Another driver appeared beside him. Shorter, blond, with that unmistakable grin you’d seen a dozen times during podium interviews.

“You were in Anyone But You too, right?”

“Guilty.”

“Love that movie. Got me through a breakup, honestly.”

“Then you have great taste in both film and emotional survival.”

He laughed and extended a hand. “I’m Oscar.”

The first one added, “And I’m Lando. Big fans.”

“Well I would be wrong if I said I didn’t know who you guys were already” you said

You shook both hands, cheeks warming a little. The conversation stayed light. They asked where you were from, how long you were in Monaco. You mentioned your love for the sport, and Lando perked up.

“You follow F1, then?”

“Since I was a teenager. I’ve got a soft spot for the older races—Senna, Prost, Schumacher. But the new kids are growing on me.”

Oscar laughed. “Even Lando?”

“I tolerate him,” you teased.

Lando gave a mock-wounded look. “Harsh.”

“Well, if your boyfriend ditches you again, we’d be happy to give you the grand tour.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? Do all the grand tours include flirting or is that a special Monaco feature?”

Lando smirked. “Only when the guests are movie stars.”

Before you could fire back, a familiar voice cut in.

“She’s not stranded.”

You turned as Drew appeared beside you, one hand already slipping around your waist. His smile was tight, eyes sharp beneath the sunglasses. He didn’t look at you first—he looked at Lando.

“I just got caught up for a minute.”

Lando nodded, clearly sensing the shift. “Lucky guy.”

Drew’s hand flexed at your waist. “Luckier than they know.”

Oscar lifted a hand. “See you around.”

You waited until they walked away before looking up at Drew.

“That was subtle.”

He looked down at you, brows drawn just slightly. “You were trying to disappear.”

“I was being polite.”

“And they were flirting.”

“Little bit.”

“You were smiling.”

“They were charming.”

He gave you a look. “You’re not allowed to know that much about racing and be hot. It’s too dangerous.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “Jealous?”

“Not even pretending I’m not.”

“Relax. I’ve got a soft spot for actors who learn what a chicane is just to impress me.”

“Is that what I’m doing now?”

You smiled. “Trying very hard.”

You kissed him, slow and certain. The paddock faded out around you. Just for a second.

When you pulled back, he didn’t even try to hide his grin.

“You ever going to get tired of kissing me in public?”

“Not if you keep showing up right on time.”

He slid his fingers between yours and pulled you gently toward the exit.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go celebrate. And the fact that I didn’t actually have to fight anyone today.”

“Yet,” you said.

He grinned. “Yet.”

You walked together through the Monaco chaos, golden light painting everything around you. And for once, all that noise felt quiet. Just for the two of you.

taglist: @wuluhwuhmaster

[chigsprincess]

Omg hi!! I love your works, they’re all so nicely made 😽😽!! (Don’t die to a blender pls ur too awesome sauce😋)

Anyways, I have a request (I came up with it late at night so hear me out PLEASE) I was thinking of bllk x reader, where the two get caught hanging out/on a date when the public doesn’t know that they are dating you. I understand if this is not worded correctly and sounds weird, but anywho thank you!!

Exposed

a/n: dw! it sounded totally fine, thank you so much for requesting, and i hope you have an awesome day!

getting caught when your relationship is still private - h.chigiri, r.itoshi, m.kaiser, y.isagi, s.barou

Chigiri Hyoma

One date in a public place couldn’t hurt. You two even chose a remote location for it. Hell, he wore some disguise too. (If you can call sunglasses indoors that.)

You tell him he dressed up like he is about to rob this place. He just pouts.

His fans immediately recognize him tho. Doesn’t even take a full 15 minutes.

“Oh my god, is that him?” whispers someone, followed by the unmistakable click of a camera.

He just lets out a sigh and shrugs “Guess we are trending tonight.”

He grabs your hand boldly, not hiding it, but also not making a big scene, and walks you back to the car with calm confidence.

When a fan asks him: “Who’s your date?” he cheekily replies:

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

then winks and shuts the car door behind you.

Social media explodes. Fans are divided between mourning the loss of their!!!! Princess and zooming in to ID you.

Itoshi Rin

He arrives at the restaurant wearing a baseball cap pulled low, a dark coat, and a stupid mask. He’s not trying to be seen; in fact, he dreads it.

You tease him about being so dramatic: “You act like the paparazzi are waiting behind every menu.”His reply? A low, dry, “They usually are.”

The dinner actually went pretty well, no fans, no media, no nothing, but then came the walk back to the car.

He immediately hears a camera clicking, and, lets go of your hand by instinct.

You start to step away, but he grabs your wrist. Not aggressively, but like he needs you close.

As flashes start to go off, he turns away from the cameras and mutters a cold, “Unbelievable.”

When asked, “Is that your partner?”, he doesn’t answer. Just shoots a piercing glare that shuts the question down instantly.

A week later, he posts a single photo on his, rarely used Instagram story: a picture of your linked hands resting on his lap, no faces, just a caption: “Mine.”

Isagi Yoichi

It’s been almost a month since you two last saw each other, so when he asked you for a date, he kinda forgot you two haven’t announced your relationship yet.

He greets you with a huge smile and an even bigger hug, the kind that lifts you a little off the ground.

A fan across the street spots him mid-laugh, leaning in close to you. They try to be subtle, but the flash goes off. And then another.

He visibly panics for a split second. “Oh nooo,” he mutters, half-laughing, half-dying inside.

His first instinct is to apologize:

“I’m so sorry are you okay with this? I can ask them to delete it! I’m sure they will.”

He knows it’s a lost cause.

You just laugh it off and tell him you don’t mind.

Later that night, he's pacing while scrolling social media, muttering, “Okay, it’s not that bad. I only panicked a little. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.”

You tell him he was cute. He blushes, but replies confidently: “Yeah? Well… I’ve got more moves where that came from.” (Immediately trips over a shoe afterward. Still cute.)

A few days later, he posts a selfie of you both with half your faces cropped out, captioned: “About time I got caught. Not mad.”

Kaiser Michael

He doesn’t wear a disguise. He wears designer sunglasses at night, his hair perfect, jawline immaculate a walking PR headline.

You ask him whether he really thinks this won’t earn him attention, but he just smirks and shrugs his shoulders.

Shameless. hand on your lower back, arm around your shoulder, brushes your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t hide a damn thing.

“Careful. You keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget we’re in public.” You just look at him with a deadpan expression. “Seems to me you already forgot.”

You get caught almost immediately by paparazzi hanging across the street, and fans whispering excitedly nearby.

He kisses you on the cheek right in front of the cameras, then adds “Get my good side, yeah?”

He does an interview a few days later and casually mentions you like it’s common knowledge. “Yeah, they’re amazing. Gorgeous, and smart, makes better coffee than my nutritionist. Don’t know how I landed them, honestly. Actually- no. I do. Look at me.”

You just roll your eyes when you watch it later.

Barou Shoei

He picks a secluded restaurant with private dining options and tinted windows. The kind of place you have to know someone to get into.

When you show up, his whole face melts, his shoulders drop, and his lips quirked up just a little. “There you are.”

You’re leaving the restaurant, walking toward the car, when someone spots him. “Holy shit, that’s Barou!”

Cameras click. Fans whisper. Then one of the braver ones asks: “Is that your partner?”

He steps in front of you immediately. Instinctively protective.

He doesn’t say a word. Just glares so hard that the nearest phone lowers itself.

A few days later, his team’s official social media posts a picture of him post-game. You in the background, holding his water bottle. Fans lose it.

He finally gives in and posts a blurry photo of you wearing his hoodie, with a caption: “Yeah. They’re mine. Stay out of it.”

word count: 882

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Plus one 9/9

Summary : When Lando Norris realizes he's the only F1 driver attending the Monaco F1 movie premiere without a girlfriend, he panics and convinces Oscar to help him find a last-minute plus one.

Author note : I get this story idea after the private projection of the F1 movie with all the drivers in Monaco (also can we imagine they weren't wearing their team kit and actually did dress up).

Genre : pure fluff

Serie masterlist

Main masterlist

The moment she stepped into the paddock, her stomach twisted.

Maybe it was the anticipation of the race, or the way every step she took felt heavier under the weight of all the speculation online: about last night, about the kiss, about them. She hadn’t even opened Twitter. Just the faint buzz of group chats and a single text from Lily: don’t panic, don’t overthink, just breathe, had been enough to know the internet was already running wild.

But the second she saw him, every thought melted away.

Lando stood just a few feet from the McLaren garage, half zipped into his fireproofs, talking to his engineer, and laughing at something Oscar was clearly giving him a hard time for. She could tell, even from this distance, he was trying to act normal.

He wasn’t doing a great job of it.

Because the moment he turned and spotted her: blue dress, pass dangling from her hand, eyes already locked on him, his face changed completely.

Soft. Relieved.

And something else too. Like she’d just given him air.

She waved, a little hesitant, and he was already walking toward her.

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless.

“Hi,” she replied, voice quieter than expected.

They just stared at each other for a second. Neither sure what to do. Hug? Kiss? Pretend the whole ocean-kissing thing hadn’t happened?

But then he laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You look… really good.”

“So do you,” she smiled, tugging at the pass like it was an anchor. “Race day suits you.”

Before either of them could fumble further, Lily appeared behind her and looped an arm around her waist. “There she is,” she said with a smirk.

Oscar wasn’t far behind, grinning. “He hasn’t shut up all morning.”

Lando groaned. “Oscar...”

“I’m just saying. He’s been pacing like a caged animal. Scared you’d not show up.”

“I wasn’t pacing.”

“You were fully rehearsing pickup lines in the bathroom,” Oscar added.

“I was brushing my teeth,” Lando shot back, cheeks flushed now.

“You didn’t even eat your toast,” Oscar finished.

Y/N laughed, biting her lip as she looked back at Lando. “You were nervous?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish. “Well… yeah. You kind of make me nervous.”

“Good,” she said, surprising them both. “You made me nervous first.”

Lily gasped dramatically and tugged her further into the garage. “I knew it. I knew it. This is going to be so fun.”

“Fun?” Y/N asked.

“Oh yeah,” Lily grinned. “Watching you two try not to blush while also clearly being in love is incredible entertainment.”

They settled into the hospitality area, and the energy shifted. Slowly. Naturally. The tension between them melted into something warmer. They didn’t need to talk about the kiss. About the photos. Not yet. They were here now. She was with him. And that seemed to be enough.

Lando brought her over a water bottle and adjusted her headset himself before the race began, fingers brushing her cheek when he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“You good?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. “You?”

He grinned. “I will be.”

And then it started.

The lights went out.

And everything became electric.

She’d never experienced a race like this before. Not through a screen. Not from the stands. But from inside the garage, close enough to see the pit crews tense, to feel the pressure in the air, to watch Lando’s name stay at the top of the screen lap after lap.

His voice, calm and clipped, echoed through her headset as he navigated every corner of the Monaco streets like he’d built them himself.

She didn’t breathe for the last ten laps.

Not once. Neither did anyone else.

And then, finnaly the checkered flag is wave and the room erupted.

She just sat there, stunned, wide-eyed, heart swelling so full it ached.

He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

The sky over Monaco was bleeding gold.

Even after the interviews, the champagne-soaked podium, the cheers and flags and a thousand hands reaching for him, Lando felt like he was floating somewhere slightly outside of it all. Detached from his own skin. Like it hadn’t truly hit him yet.

He won.

Monaco. He actually won.

He hugged his parents for a second longer than expected. Got tackled by Oscar, who congratulate him and tease him how he better not cry on international television.

Lando laughed then. Or at least he thought he did.

Because under all that euphoria, the noise, the adrenaline, the impossible thrum of his heart, there was something else waiting beneath it all. A quiet tether pulling him away from the celebration and toward something… softer.

Someone.

He found her in the back hallway of the hospitality, the noise of the paddock muffled by concrete and distance. She was standing near the doorway, half-shadowed by the slant of sun filtering through the blinds, her accreditation still around her neck and her hands curled loosely at her sides.

When their eyes met, everything else slipped away.

He didn’t run to her.

He didn’t need to.

It was like gravity did the work for him, guiding his body toward hers, slow but inevitable, until they stood chest to chest and all he could do was breathe.

Her eyes were wide and glassy, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak.

So he spoke first.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life,” he said quietly, “that I thought would make me feel whole.”

She tilted her head, listening, unmoving.

“I’ve chased wins. Podiums. I’ve stared down people who didn’t believe in me, and I’ve smiled through days where I didn’t believe in myself either. I’ve trained until I couldn’t stand. Lost until I forgot what it felt like to win. And now I’m here.”

His voice cracked.

“Now I’ve won Monaco. And somehow... it’s not even the best part of this weekend.”

Her breath caught. He heard it.

He smiled softly, reaching out to take her hand. It fit too easily in his, like they’d done this a hundred times before.

“I keep thinking about last night,” he whispered. “The sea. The quiet. The way you looked at me like I wasn’t just some guy in a race suit. Like I was just me.”

Her lashes fluttered. Her fingers squeezed his.

“I don’t know how you did it,” he said. “How you showed up in my life two days ago and made it feel like something I’ve been waiting for since forever.”

That was all it took.

She stepped forward and pulled him into her, arms wrapping around him like they could anchor him to the moment. His face buried in her shoulder. Her arms came around his neck, holding him just as tightly, and suddenly all the noise, all the chaos, the flashbulbs, the headlines, faded into silence.

It was just her.

Her warmth. Her perfume. Her heartbeat steady against his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair. “For being here. For finding me.”

She leaned back, just enough to look at him, and her voice was trembling when she spoke.

“You looked for me too,” she whispered. “That night. That smile. That kiss. It wasn’t just me.”

Lando nodded, blinking too fast. His throat burned.

“No,” he whispered. “It was always you.”

She touched his cheek, soft and certain.

He kissed her then, gently, reverently, like he was memorizing the taste of peace.

And in that moment, in that hallway, with confetti still clinging to his skin and champagne drying on his suit, Lando Norris felt something even more impossible than victory.

He felt safe.

And loved.

And whole.

@landonorris 📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

Might need to go for a swim in the sea before every race if it means this kind of result.🍾

@_user1 oh he KNOWS what he’s doing with that caption 😭😭😭

@_user2 is he talking about that mystery sea girl from the pap pics?? 👀

@_user3 that’s the most subtle tease i’ve ever seen lmao

@_user4 I don’t care about the girl I just care that HE FINALLY WON MONACO 😭😭

@_user5 yeah but also who’s the girl??? I need to know for science

@_user6 this is the happiest I’ve ever seen him… let him have this 🧡

@_user7 "swim in the sea" yeah ok lover boy we see you

@_user8 so are we all just collectively pretending we didn’t see the kissing pictures or…

@_user9 imagine being the girl that inspired a MONACO WIN

@_user10 congrats 🧡 now go take your sea goddess on a date pls

@your_usurname

My week for the Monaco GP, finally got to see my crush from up close ✨

@_user1 that’s literally Lando’s headset?? babe we clocked you 💀

@_user2 THE dress. THE garage. THE sunset. THE quote. she’s def the girl from the leaked beach pics. we’ve solved it. next case.

@_user3 "my crush" GIRL WE KNOW WHO YOU MEAN 😭😭😭

@_user4 so we’re all pretending this isn’t Lando’s girlfriend huh?

@_user5 "finally got to see my crush from up close"??? girl just say Lando 😭😭

@_user8 drop the skincare and how you managed to date an F1 driver in 48 hours please 💅

@_user9 I know this sounds insane but I think I’m rooting for them

@_user10 she said "my crush" like the whole internet hasn’t already connected the dots 😭

@_user11 we were so busy looking for hints in Lando’s photos and she just posted THE HEADPHONES

@_user12 Monaco: the race he won and maybe also the girl 😭

@_user14 she’s so effortlessly stunning it’s not fair 😭

@_user15 I hope she knows she’s already a fan favorite

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[incloudcity]

could you write a fic with quinn where he's dating a reporter but they keep the relationship in secret specially because of her carrer but accidently in a post game interview he slips a "thanks princess" or any other cute thing, while they are on live, n that makes her blushes and suddenly the whole hockey world knows they are together

off the record | qh43

requests are open

a/n: guys i’m sooooo sick i think im dying so this is all you get for tonight. hopefully i can catch up on drafts and requests in a little bit once im better

You’d been covering the Canucks for just over a month when Quinn Hughes became your problem.

On camera, he was a dream for a reporter — short answers, eye contact, always polite. Off camera? A menace. Quiet, smirky, and way too comfortable leaning just a bit too close.

“Nice question,” he said under his breath one night, handing back your recorder. “You practice in the mirror, sweetheart?”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Do you actually answer the media’s questions, or do you just flirt with them until they leave you alone?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Depends. Is it working?”

You walked away without replying.

He caught up with you later with a cup of coffee, one you hadn’t asked for, in his hand.

“Two sugars, no cream, right?” he asked.

You stared. “That better not be a guess.”

He just smiled, leaned against the hallway wall like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m observant.”

“Uh-huh. And completely unprofessional.”

He tilted his head. “So are you saying you want me to stop?”

You took the coffee. Didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t say no, either.

Over the next few weeks, the game continued. Quinn made it subtle — he never crossed the line where someone else might catch on. But you noticed. The playful jabs. The way he’d tap the table once for everyone, then twice more just for you. When you asked something tough in a presser, he’d sigh like you were personally attacking him — but always with a glint in his eye.

“You’re ruthless,” he said once after a particularly pointed question about power play production.

You smirked. “Maybe stop turning the puck over and I’ll go easier on you.”

“Ohhh,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Brutal. And you still won’t go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re exhausting, Hughes.”

“You’ll miss me when I stop trying.”

“Looking forward to it.”

But you weren’t. Not really.

The night you finally caved, it wasn’t a grand moment. Just a quiet run-in after practice, late, both of you tired. He looked at you for a second too long. You looked back. No one else was around.

“You wanna grab something to eat?” he asked, softer this time. No smirk. No show.

You hesitated.

“Just dinner,” he added quickly. “No pressure.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve reminded him that if anyone found out, you’d both get torn apart.

But you didn’t.

After that, everything changed — and nothing did. You kept it private. No one knew about the way he pressed kisses behind your ear when you were brushing your teeth. Or how he’d text you “media availability just got way more interesting” before games.

He never said anything on the record. Until he did.

It was a standard post-game scrum, packed with reporters. You were in your usual spot, notebook in hand, asking about third-period adjustments.

Quinn glanced at you, gave his usual answer — then added, too casually:

“We adjusted in the third, like you said, babe.”

Babe.

It was a split second. One syllable. But it echoed.

Your pen paused mid-sentence. The PR guy blinked like he’d misheard. A few reporters looked around.

You didn’t flinch. Your voice was even. “Noted. Thanks, Hughes.”

But inside, you were screaming.

Later that night, Quinn was pacing your apartment like he was being traded.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered. “I’m so—so sorry. You’re gonna get in trouble. Shit, I didn’t even think. It just—slipped. Like an idiot.”

You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching him spiral.

“I literally train my whole life to stay calm under pressure and I blew it with one word—”

“Quinn.”

He froze. His face glazed over with panic.

You stood, walked over, leaned against the counter, and gave him a slow once-over.

“I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You’re… not?”

“No.” You cracked a grin. “But you should be. Twitter thinks you’re engaged now. You’re a whole meme.”

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Oh my god.”

You pulled out your phone. “Someone edited your post-game quote over a Bridgerton clip.”

“I’m never showing my face again.”

“You’re adorable when you panic.”

He looked up at you, exasperated. “Why are you not freaking out?”

“Because if you think I didn’t screenshot the second it happened, you don’t know me at all.”

He groaned again — and this time you reached up, pulling him in by his hoodie.

“I’ll handle PR,” you said, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “But you’re doing media training again. Just in case.”

He smiled, finally, against your mouth. “Worth it.”

[scoupsakakitty]

heyy, can you do an angst mingi x idol reader who are in a relationship and are exposed to the public?

Unspoken From the Stage | idol!Mingi x idol!Reader | angst,fluff

Y/N had always known that dating an idol wasn’t going to be easy—especially when she was one too. A rookie, barely a year into the industry, with eyes constantly watching and cameras always flashing. But with Mingi, things had felt different. Real. Quiet in the way love should be when it’s honest.

They met during a backstage encounter at a joint music show, a shared laugh over a tangled mic cable, a conversation that lingered too long after the stylists had left. Mingi, with his unpredictable energy and surprising softness, had slowly woven himself into her off-stage life.

For months, their relationship was private, protected in shadows. They’d meet after rehearsals, eat ramen in his dorm parking lot, share voice notes that became lullabies. She wore his hoodie when no one was watching, he memorized the color of her lip tint just from the edge of her coffee cup.

And then Dispatch happened.

The photos were undeniable—Y/N slipping into a black van at dawn, Mingi’s figure blurred but recognizable just steps behind her. The headlines screamed it before they could even react: “ATEEZ’s Mingi and Rookie Idol Y/N Caught in Secret Relationship.”

What followed was chaos.

Her label panicked. His agency went into crisis mode. Comments flooded in like poison—some in support, most not. Accusations, threats, harsh edits made their way into Twitter threads. Y/N's group lost brand deals overnight. The fandom war started instantly. She was “clout-chasing,” “ruining his image,” “irrelevant.”

At first, they tried to weather it.

Late-night calls with shaky voices.

Mingi whispering, “I’m not going anywhere.” Y/N replying, “Promise?”

He did. He meant it.

But time chipped away at them. The pressure wasn't just online—it bled into their professional lives. Staff became distant. Her members grew quiet. Even fans at events stopped cheering as loudly. She smiled less during schedules, laughed too quickly, blinked too much to hide the sting.

Mingi noticed. Of course he did.

They met secretly in a quiet parking garage after her comeback stage. She was still in full makeup, but her eyes were red beneath the glitter.

“Why didn’t you tell me you cried after rehearsal yesterday?” he asked.

She looked away. “You had your live. I didn’t want to ruin your energy.”

“You’re never ruining anything,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I want to be there.”

Y/N’s lips quivered. “I know you do. But being with me is hurting you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Mingi.” Her voice broke on his name. “You haven’t written a lyric in weeks. You’ve lost weight. You flinched when I called you in front of your manager. You’re scared. Don’t lie to me about that.”

His mouth opened, but the words died.

He hated that she was right. Hated that her presence—so comforting in private—had become a battlefield in public.

“But I love you,” he whispered, like it was his final argument. “Isn’t that supposed to be enough?”

She wiped her cheek. “Not when it turns you into someone afraid.”

They stood in silence for too long.

Finally, she said it.

“Let’s... take a step back. Just for now.”

Mingi’s hands dropped from where they had hovered near her arms. The distance between them became more than physical.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“No,” she whispered. “It’s what you need.”

She turned before he could respond. Her footsteps echoed in the empty garage. She didn’t look back.

Days turned into weeks.

There were no updates from her end. No photos. No rumors. No messages.

Mingi tried to distract himself—writing, rehearsing, preparing for the tour. But every lyric he penned started sounding like her voice. Every stage felt off-balance without her watching from the wings.

He texted once.

“Still wearing your necklace.”

No reply.

She watched his comeback through a cracked phone screen and cried into her pillow.

One of her members hugged her in silence. The others didn’t ask.

The world thought the fire had burned out. But it hadn’t. It was just quiet now��smoldering under the surface, waiting.

And it waited all the way until the night of the awards.

Where everything would speak—

—without saying a word.

The lights were dizzying. Dozens of idols filled the massive stage, shoulder to shoulder, dressed in sleek black and silver tones. The MCs had just finished announcing the nominees for “Best Performance of the Year,” and all nominated groups stood in place under the sweeping camera cranes.

Y/N stood near the center with her members, their hands folded politely in front of them, expressions poised. But her heart pounded hard enough that she could hear the blood in her ears. Somewhere, just three bodies to her left, was him.

Mingi.

She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of their last conversation. But she had heard his voice, over and over—on broadcasts, radio interviews, award speeches. Never once directed at her. Never once where she could answer.

Until tonight.

Her eyes flicked sideways, unthinking. The camera was far enough away. She caught a glimpse of his profile: jaw clenched, lips set in that unreadable line he wore when he was trying to keep it together. He wasn’t smiling. He never smiled in moments like this, even before her.

The MC’s voice rang out again:

"And the winner for Best Performance is..."

Pause. Drumroll.

"ATEEZ!"

Cheers exploded from the audience. Mingi’s members clapped, exchanged quick hugs. He smiled now—briefly, automatically—as he stepped forward with his group. But as they moved, something happened.

He passed by her.

She hadn’t meant to look. But her head turned instinctively. And just as he walked past her right shoulder, his hand brushed against hers.

It was so subtle she might have imagined it. Just the faintest brush of skin. But her fingers tingled. Burned.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t say a word. But as he passed, his eyes met hers.

A second. Maybe less.

And in that second, he said everything he hadn’t in weeks.

I still see you. I still want you. I still love you.

Her breath caught. She looked straight ahead, camera-trained, but her hands trembled slightly. No one around her reacted. Only the fans with hyper-zoom lenses would ever catch it. But in that moment, she wasn’t Y/N the rookie idol.

She was just the girl who used to sit in his lap and steal fries from his plate.

ATEEZ accepted the award with practiced charisma. Seonghwa gave the thank-you speech. The members bowed, the music cued. But her eyes stayed on one person.

Mingi stood on the far right as the music played them off stage. Just before turning, he looked back over his shoulder.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. But the look lingered.

And Y/N looked back.

No one else noticed.

But the fancams did.

Later that night, clips were already circulating online.

“Did anyone see that look between Mingi and Y/N??” “I swear their hands touched on stage.” “She watched him the whole time during the speech.” “That wasn’t acting. That was heartbreak.”

Y/N sat on the dressing room bench, scrolling without reacting. Her phone buzzed once. A message preview lit up the screen.

Mingi [00:43]: If the whole world’s watching… I’d still look at you like that.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t smile.

She just stared at the words, thumb hovering over the screen.

And for the first time in weeks—

She wanted to answer.

Y/N stood in front of the glass doors of the hotel lobby, heart in her throat. The email with her agency's flight itinerary was still open on her phone, but her mind was stuck on one thing.

Mingi [00:43]: If the whole world’s watching… I’d still look at you like that.

She had read it a dozen times. And now, she was here.

The staff at the front desk recognized her immediately but said nothing—professional discretion. One of the coordinators guided her upstairs without a word. Her palms were sweating. Every step toward that room felt like walking through memories: his voice in her ear, his arm around her waist, the warmth of him beside her in silence.

She stopped outside Room 1705. Raised her hand. Knocked.

The door opened in seconds.

Mingi. Wearing a loose black shirt, hair damp like he’d just showered, eyes wide and vulnerable like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Neither of them said anything.

Then he stepped aside, wordlessly, and she walked in.

The door closed. Silence stretched. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie.

He spoke first.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

A beat passed.

“Why did you?”

She met his eyes finally.

“Because I still love you. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Mingi inhaled like he hadn’t breathed in weeks. He walked slowly toward her, careful, like she might vanish.

“I never stopped looking for you in every room,” he whispered. “Even when you weren’t there.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t blink them away this time.

“I thought I was protecting you by leaving,” she said. “I thought I was giving you space to breathe, to not be hated because of me.”

“I thought I was respecting you by staying away,” he said quietly. “But I think I was just scared you’d moved on.”

Her brows furrowed. “You think I could forget you?”

“You walked away,” he said, voice cracking. “I told myself you had to. But it still broke me.”

Y/N stepped closer, close enough to feel his breath.

“I cried every night. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat properly. And I watched every one of your stages like I was torturing myself on purpose.”

“I wrote you into every verse I couldn’t finish,” he whispered. “You were in every song that never got released.”

They stood in that silence, not empty—but thick with everything left unsaid.

“I needed you to come find me,” she said. “I didn’t think I was allowed to come back.”

“I thought chasing you would just make it worse,” he admitted. “I was waiting for a sign that you wanted me to try.”

“That text… the one after the award show…” she looked down. “That was the sign.”

He slowly reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“I still wear the necklace you gave me,” he said softly. “It’s under every stage outfit. Even when I thought you hated me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wet. “I never hated you. I hated that the world made us doubt something that was real.”

He nodded, gently tugging her closer until their foreheads touched.

“I love you,” he said. “Not the idea of you. Not the version I made up to feel less lonely. You. All of you.”

She closed her eyes. “Then let’s stop running.”

He kissed her—finally. Not desperate. Not dramatic. Just soft. Long. Healing. Like an apology. Like a beginning.

They sank onto the couch, wrapped in each other, legs tangled and limbs tucked in like they were afraid to break the moment.

“I don’t want to do this in secret anymore,” she said after a while.

Mingi looked at her. “Even if it means more hate?”

“Even then,” she said. “Because the silence between us hurts more than anything strangers could ever say.”

He smiled, for real this time.

“Then let them talk,” he whispered. “But they don’t get a say in how this story ends.”

They spent the rest of the night talking. Really talking. About everything. The hurt. The pressure. The regret. The dreams. The fear of losing themselves and each other. And then—about what they wanted next.

“I want us to write our own rules,” she said. “Not the agency’s. Not the fans’. Ours.”

He nodded. “I’ll take whatever timeline you give me. As long as you’re in it.”

She curled closer to him.

“You’re it for me,” she whispered.

A week later, a blurry photo of them laughing in a ramen shop leaked online.

Comments exploded again. Some harsh. Some supportive. Most shocked.

But this time, Y/N didn’t read them.

Because her phone was face-down. And Mingi’s hand was in hers.

And this time, they were in the frame—together. Exactly where they belonged.

[princesevsnape]

Tony’s Wife (Tony Stark x Reader)

Requested by @ashdreams2023

Summary: Your the wife of Tony Stark and rush to see him after the attack on New York, meeting the other Avengers in the process, who have no idea Tony was married.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Thank you for my first Marvel request. I also hope you don’t mind but I added a little surprise in that I thought would be good to add. Hope you enjoy it lovely. And if anyone has any more Marvel requests please send them in.

You stared at the tv screen. An attack on New York.

“Shit.” You said thinking immediately of your husband.

“I am so sorry but I’ve got to go.” You said gathering your papers up and getting ready to head back home.

“What the hell? You can’t just leave we are in the middle of a business deal here.” Your potential client said.

“Look my husband might be in danger or worse he could have been killed in that attack on New York. Right now he’s my priority not some potential business deal.” You said.

“So what. This deal is important to me.” The client said angrily.

“Well at the end of the day it’s my business and I make the decisions. My husband is more important to me than some business deal. Have some respect. Plus you haven’t even signed the deal. If you really want to we can reschedule for another time but right now I’m going home to make sure my husband is safe.”

“Forget it.” The client snapped.

“Great have a nice day.” You said ripping up the contract.

You quickly rushed to your hotel room to pack. You had been in Washington to sign a potential client to your business. But seeing the news about the attack on New York made you feel so sick to your stomach knowing your husband could have been killed. You know the chances of him having been killed were slim, he was Iron Man after all but you needed to see him.

You had to make a phone call before you left.

“Happy is he ok?” You asked.

“He is fine Mrs Stark. Do you need anything?” Happy asked.

“I need the jet. I’m coming home.”

“Are you sure Mrs Stark? I thought you were dealing with a new client.”

“Yes I’m sure. I need to see Tony he’s more important. Just don’t tell him I’m on my way home.”

“Ok Mrs Stark. I will send the jet now. I will ring you when it’s at the airport.” Happy said hanging up the phone.

A couple hours later you touched down in New York. Happy picked you up from the airport.

“I’m guessing Tony is at the Avengers Tower and not at home?” You asked Happy although you already knew the answer. He was barely ever at home. Neither were you to be honest you were always away on business so the majority of the time Tony stayed at the Avengers Tower rather than in the mansion you shared. He hated being there alone. He only ever stayed at home when you were home.

“Yes Mrs Stark.” Happy replied.

“Guess I’m finally meeting the rest of the Avengers then” you sighed.

It wasn’t that you had never wanted to meet them it’s just you liked to keep your life a bit more private. Especially the fact that you were married to Tony Stark. It was a bit difficult due to Tony always being in the spotlight but you found ways to keep it secret.

“Don’t worry they’re all lovely.” Happy said trying to reassure you.

“We’re here. I’ll take your suitcases home for you. And good luck. If you need anything else make sure to phone me Mrs Stark.” He added.

“Thank you and Happy and please you don’t need to call me Mrs Stark all the time. Y/N will do just fine.” You said getting out of the car.

You looked up at the Avengers tower and sighed.

“Guess it’s now or never.” You said to yourself.

Entering the tower you looked everywhere you thought your husband would be. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Tony!” You shouted.

Your husband didn’t respond but you heard a female voice answer you.

“Hello?” You heard her say and then she stepped into view.

“Where’s Tony?” You asked Natasha.

“He’s just gone to take a shower. Sorry who are you?” She asked.

“I’m Y/N. Tony’s wife.” You said.

“Wait what? Tony’s married? Since when?” Natasha asked.

“5 years.” You said, as she led you to where the rest of the Avengers were sat talking.

“Guys this is Y/N. Tony’s wife.” Natasha said introducing you to the others.

“Wait Tony’s married?” Steve asked confused.

“Apparently so.” Natasha said.

“How come he never told any of us?” Clint asked.

“That would be because of me. I tend to like to keep my private life well private. No one knows other than Happy and Pepper. I’m away on business a lot so I’m hardly around which is why we’ve never met. But I saw about the attack on the news. I had to come to make sure Tony was ok.” You explained.

“Well it’s lovely to finally meet you Lady Stark.” Thor said pulling you in for a hug.

“Seems you came just in time to meet me. I’m due to go back to Asgard in the next couple of days to take my brother back home. He was the one responsible for this attack.” Thor added.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you too Thor.” You said.

Everyone else introduced themselves to you and hugged you.

Then Tony entered the room. “ who are you guys talking to?” He asked. And then he saw you.

“Y/N what are you doing here?” He asked looking at you confused.

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” You asked.

Tony smiled and walked up to you pulling you into his arms.

“Hello darling. I missed you.” He said placing a kiss on your lips.

“I missed you too Tony.” You said.

“Honestly though why are you here? What about your business deal?” He asked.

“I saw about the attack on the news. I had to make sure you were ok. I was scared you had died.” You told him.

“You knew I wouldn’t be dead. Deep down you knew that.” He said pointing to your heart.

“Of course I knew but I had to see you. And you are far more important to me than some business deal. I’ve also decided I’m going to spend more time at home. If I get chances at more potential clients they will have to come to me.” You said.

“You don’t have to do that for me darling. Your business is important you need to do whatever it takes to keep it thriving if that means going on all these business trips that’s ok.” Tony said trying to reassure you.

“Tony it’s my business I make the decisions. And I have made the decision to stay here in New York indefinitely. I can run my business from home. And meet clients in New York.I hate travelling all the time. Plus I’m not just staying here for you. There’s something else I should tell you.” You admitted.

“What is it darling?” He asked looking concerned.

“I’m pregnant.” You said.

Tony had an unreadable expression on his face. You were worried when he didn’t say anything. Maybe he didn’t want kids. He just stared at you in shock.

“Tony say something.” Natasha urged him.

“Guys can you just give us some time to talk? Alone.” He said.

The rest of the Avengers left the room leaving you and Tony alone.

“I’m sorry.” You said tears now falling from your eyes.

“Hey darling don’t cry.” Tony said wiping your tears away and pulling you back into his arms. He placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I love you so much Tony.” You said sobbing into his chest.

“I love you so much too. And I will love our child just as much. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything I was just shocked. But I’m going to stand by you every single step of the way. We will be ok. And if you really want to stay home and not travel for business opportunities I will support you in that.”

“Do you really think we will be ok?” You asked.

“Of course we will darling. Of course we will.” He said before kissing you again.

[unsuperingyournatural]

it's code now

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

innuendos that Pedro himself started lol

masterlist

dividers @saradika-graphics

The moment your sneakers hit the terminal floor, you felt the energy shift.

It was subtle at first, just a few heads turning, a double take here, a quiet murmur there. But within seconds, the quiet buzz of the airport warped into something louder, the unmistakable swell of voices surging from just beyond security. Paparazzi and fans crowded the space, camera flashes already flickering like lightning before the storm.

You pulled your hood up a little higher, grateful for the shield of your sunglasses, and tightened your grip on the strap of your carry-on. A pair of airport security officers flanked your sides immediately, one murmuring a low, professional assurance: "Stay close, ma'am. We'll get you to the car."

You nodded without speeding up, keeping your pace even and deliberate.

As the crowd closed in, you offered a few quick smiles, slowing just enough to sign a couple of posters thrust your way. A young woman leaned in for a selfie, already trembling with excitement, and you angled your face toward her phone, offered a soft smile, and whispered a thank-you before easing back into motion.

The paparazzi grew louder by the second, cameras clicking in rapid bursts as shouts flew from every direction, each voice vying to snag your attention.

"Did Pedro fly in with you?"

"How serious are you two?"

"Are you staying at the Mercer again or is it the Bowery this time?"

You ignored them, kept moving forward, but then one of the voices cut through, sharper than the rest and tainted with that TMZ smugness you knew all too well.

"Does Pedro support you regularly?" the reporter asked, practically jogging to keep pace beside you.

You blinked behind your sunglasses, turning your head just slightly in his direction. "Of course he supports me. He always does."

Laughter erupted, not from you, but from the TMZ guy, and from the fan still beside you who suddenly raised her hand next to her mouth in shock.

"Oh my God," the fan gasped under her breath, wide-eyed.

Another shout came from the reporter, louder and more pointed this time: "But does he please you? Consistently?"

Your steps faltered as confusion rippled through you.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t respond. You kept walking, your lips pressing into a flat line as the security guards surged forward, their bodies forming a tighter barrier around you, guiding you toward the private exit. The questions kept coming, worse now, sloppier and increasingly vulgar, one of them tossing out something about Pedro "being a pleaser later."

You clenched your jaw, dropped your chin, and didn’t stop moving until the cool, quiet calm of the waiting black SUV swallowed you whole.

The door shut behind you with finality. Silence settled around you like a balm.

You exhaled hard, dropped your head back against the seat, and stayed still for a long moment, just breathing. Then, reaching into your hoodie pocket, you pulled out your phone and opened your messages.

[You]: Landed safe. On the way to the hotel now.

It was a ritual you both kept, no matter the schedule or time zone. A habit born out of simple care.

The reply came quickly.

[Pedro]: I’m glad. Was just thinking about you. Hope the flight wasn’t too brutal. Miss you already.

You smiled, even though your body still held a slight tremble from the TMZ circus.

You hesitated, thumb hovering above the keyboard, then decided to go ahead and tell him.

[You]: Weird moment at the airport. TMZ was there. Got asked if you support me and then it got weird. Sexual weird. I didn’t really get what they were implying.

The three dots appeared on the screen.

Paused.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Disappeared.

Then came back once more.

[Pedro]: I’ll call you later about it.

You blinked at the message, your brows pulling together.

[You]: What did you do?

He didn’t respond with words.

Instead, a GIF came through—one of that sheepish cartoon character with huge eyes and a slow, guilty smile.

You groaned, then smirked, shaking your head.

You let it go.

For now.

Later that night, once the hotel room had been unpacked and room service left half-eaten on the tray, your phone buzzed. Pedro's name lit up the screen. A FaceTime request.

You answered immediately.

He was in his trailer, from the looks of it, the lighting low, hoodie pulled over his head, curls still damp from a recent shower. His smile stretched wide the second he saw your face.

"There she is. My poor scandalized girlfriend. You survive TMZ or did you dissolve into flames right there in Terminal C?"

"Hi to you too," you said dryly, curling into the plush corner of the bed. "So are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to keep guessing what exactly you did to make TMZ ask if you're a regular pleaser?"

He winced, chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck like he already knew he was guilty. "I may have... opened my big mouth. Again."

Your eyes narrowed. "Pedro."

He threw his hands up in mock surrender. "It was that Fandango interview. You know, the one with Dakota and Chris? They asked us what our unicorn traits were in dating."

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "You said you're loyal. Or charming. Or really good at making empanadas."

He smirked. "Nope. I said I was a pleaser."

Your eyebrows shot up. "You said that?"

"I did. I said that I'm a really supportive person. That I like to be attentive and, yeah, that I’m a pleaser. I didn’t go into detail or anything, but come on. You know that smirk I do when I say something loaded? Yeah. That one."

You covered your face with your hand, laughing. "Pedro! You dork! No wonder they were asking me if you support me. They probably think that's code now."

He leaned in closer to the screen, wagging his eyebrows. "Well, I do support you. Thoroughly. Enthusiastically. Repeatedly."

You snorted. "Okay, Casanova. Dial it back before I file a complaint with HR."

"Which department is that again? Hugs and Reassurance?"

You burst into laughter. "You're ridiculous."

"You're stunning," he shot back, voice softening. "Even over grainy Wi-Fi."

Your smile gentled. "I missed you today."

His eyes warmed. "Missed you too. Whole trailer’s boring without you. Nobody teases me or steals my snacks."

You grinned. "That’s tragic. Truly. I’ll send you a care package with attitude and cashews."

"Perfect combo."

The silence that followed stretched between you, not empty but easy and warm.

"Get some rest, baby," he murmured, his hand lifting toward the screen like he could pull you through it. "Call me in the morning?"

"You better believe it," you whispered. "And Pedro?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you decide to tell the world you’re a pleaser, maybe give me a heads-up so I’m not ambushed at baggage claim."

He laughed, full and bright, grinning like he lived for moments like this.

"Consider this your official warning. Next round of interviews, I’m going full poet."

You rolled your eyes. "God help us."

The call ended, but the warmth lingered.

You set your phone down beside you, heart lighter, smile still pulling at your mouth. Because in the end, no matter what the world said or assumed, you knew the truth. He loved you. He definitely supported you. He made you laugh. And that kind of devotion, quiet and unwavering and real, was everything.

[heavenlyscandal]

tattoo artist! choso kamo x reader

synopsis: a reunion at his tattoo shop reveals the depth of his unspoken feelings.

choso kamo who knew you didn’t like the idea of getting tattooed, but still secretly hoped, maybe even believed that one day, you’d walk through his shop doors and ask for one anyway. Not just from anyone but from him. That you’d want his mark. His art. His presence, inked into your skin like a quiet promise. He told himself not to wait and yet he did, he always did.

choso kamo who nearly short-circuits when you actually walk into his shop one late afternoon, sunlight haloing behind you, illuminating your skin that he’s always admired from a distance, skin that, in his words, looks “perfect for ink”

You looked different. Older but you're still you, the girl who once made his fingers twitch with the urge to draw every version of you he could imagine.

“Hi.” You greeted him as if you weren't apart for years. "Do you take walk-ins?”

He’s behind the counter, his mouth parting just slightly. God, he wants to hug you. Wants to say everything like Where have you been? Are you okay? Did you think of me? But he doesn’t.

He just lifts a brow and smirks, slipping effortlessly back into the version of himself you remember.

“Depends. You finally gonna let me tattoo you?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Just like that, the years that stretched between you crumbled.

choso kamo who leads you past the front desk, past the buzzing needles and music-filled spaces, into his private studio, the one reserved only for his long-time clients, the ones who matter. But you? You’ve always mattered more than all of them.

He gestures to the familiar black leather chair, and you sit, effortlessly at ease. Like you’ve been here a thousand times before.

“So,” he says, pulling on his gloves, “what do you want?”

You glance around the room, hid sketches pinned to the walls, vials of ink lined like soldiers, and the slight scent of antiseptic mixed with the trace of his cologne.

“Something from you,” you reply with a shrug. “Whatever you think fits.”

He pauses but just for a second.

“You trust me that much?”

“Always have.”

Those words hit harder than he expects. And maybe it’s a little pathetic, how quickly his hands still when he hears them. But he nods, quiet, before turning to prep the machine.

choso kamo who already knew exactly what he wanted to give you not just a design, but a piece of himself. Something that speaks where his mouth has failed for years. He lines up the stencil, tests the ink, and doesn’t even need to sketch it again. He’s carried this image in his mind for a long time. His hand guided by his heart and fondness, wanting to make it sentimental not only for him, but for you too.

He tattoos them onto you slowly. Carefully. With the reverence of someone writing a confession in a language only the two of you understand.

His gloved hand supports your arm, thumb pressing just slightly into your skin as the machine hums. You don’t flinch. You trust him. You always have.

The silence between you is warm not awkward, not uncertain but full of everything you both left unsaid for too long.

choso kamo who finally finishes, gently wiping away the last speck of ink, admiring the bouquet now blooming against your skin, his work, his heart, his feelings.

You sit up slowly, glancing down at the piece. Three flowers, delicate but firm, intertwined like a story.

“Does it mean anything?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stares at the tattoo then at you.

authors note: this is the promised part 2 i hope you like it, also i got a little bit too carried away and made it a bit longer. lastly, this will be a 4 part series so stay tuned. <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[deardaichi]

016. seasonings, secrets, and company — bokuto kotaro.

wc: 0.8k cw: f!reader. private relationship (not for long). msby bokuto. domesticity. a/n: bokuto my king <3 i love him a lot. written for @megapteraurelia <3 i hope you enjoy

the apartment smells like garlic and thyme.

you’re barefoot in bokuto’s kitchen, his biggest hoodie hanging off your frame, sleeves pushed up while you stir something warm and slow in the pan. he’s sitting on one of the barstools nearby, chin in his hand, watching you with the kind of focus most people only get during volleyball matches. he hasn’t said anything in a while, just occasionally hums along to the song playing low from your phone.

he looks peaceful like this. soft and settled. there’s something about evenings here — something domestic and private that makes time stretch out a little longer than it usually does.

you feel it every time.

“you’re staring again,” you say, without turning around.

“you’re worth staring at.”

you glance over your shoulder. he’s grinning, all teeth and warmth, hair still slightly damp from his post-gym shower.

“gross,” you say fondly.

“flattered,” he replies.

you’re just about to plate dinner when there’s a knock at the door.

bokuto doesn’t move right away. just blinks, confused. “you expecting anything?”

“nope.”

he gets up slowly, dragging his feet across the floor in mismatched socks.

the knock comes again. more impatient this time.

“probably a delivery mix-up,” you say, focused on the sauce.

he opens the door.

“BOKUTO—”

“holy shit,” he says, mid-blink. “what are you—?”

“we forgot which one your apartment was, so we knocked on every door on this floor,” atsumu declares as he pushes past him. “this was the fifth one. not bad odds.”

hinata trails behind him with a bag of takeout and a triumphant smile. “we brought dinner.”

“why would you come without saying anything?”

“you didn’t answer the group chat.”

“i was busy!”

“we thought you were depressed or something.”

“i was cooking.”

hinata freezes mid-step. “wait. you were cooking?”

and then he sees you.

still at the stove, still stirring like this is normal, like two of his teammates didn’t just barge in unannounced.

you glance over. “hey.”

atsumu stops walking. “uh.”

hinata blinks. “hi?”

there’s a brief silence.

bokuto scratches the back of his neck. “right. this is my girlfriend.”

“girlfriend,” atsumu repeats.

“like… actual girlfriend?” hinata says.

“yes,” bokuto says, a little too casually. “for, like… a while.”

“you’ve been dating in secret?” atsumu sounds personally offended.

“not in secret,” bokuto says, wandering toward the kitchen to grab a glass. “just… not in public.”

“this is so shady.”

“you’re shady.”

you hand him the ladle. “taste this.”

he does. smiles instantly. “perfect.”

“of course it is.”

hinata’s still looking around like he’s trying to solve a mystery. “wait. so this is…your apartment? the same one we came to last time?”

“yep,” bokuto says.

atsumu gestures wildly. “since when have you had, like… matching dish towels? throw pillows? nice furniture?”

“you're welcome,” you call out.

“oh my god.”

bokuto leans against the counter. “what, you thought i was surviving off protein bars and vibes?”

“yes,” both of them say in sync.

you try not to laugh.

bokuto turns to you instead, ignoring their chaos entirely. “you wanna eat now or let them finish their dramatic breakdown?”

you smile. “i’ll set two more plates.”

atsumu grumbles, but doesn’t decline. hinata helps you with the silverware.

dinner’s casual.

bokuto sits next to you like he always does, elbow brushing yours whenever he reaches for his drink. atsumu complains that he’s been robbed of knowledge. hinata asks approximately one hundred questions about how long this has been going on, if you like volleyball, and whether bokuto ever shuts up around you.

“sometimes,” you say.

bokuto grins. “i can be quiet.”

atsumu scoffs. “only when you’re asleep.”

he shakes his head. “no. i can be quiet, especially when i’m content.”

they leave an hour later, still mildly stunned, still full of food. atsumu says he’s going to retaliate by not withholding gossip. hinata gives you a hug and says, “i knew he had someone. he’s been too happy lately.”

bokuto walks them out and locks the door behind them.

you’re cleaning up, slow and lazy, humming again without thinking.

he comes up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, rests his chin on your shoulder.

“i’m sorry they barged in,” he murmurs.

you lean back against him. “wasn’t the worst surprise.”

“really?”

“i like being known. a little.”

he smiles against your neck. “you’re gonna be known now.”

“i can handle it.”

he kisses your cheek and stays there, quiet, arms still around you.

and even with the dishes unwashed and the lights still on, the night feels settled.

taglist (open. ask to be added <3): @tangerinelovr @oligbia @megapteraurelia@iwantfoodpleasebuymefood

© everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.

[crownlesswizard]

🚨🚨IT'S PRIDE101 TIME!!!!!🚨🚨

year SIX!!!! give it up for year six!!!!! of pride101. where i randomly select FOUR winners over the month to get their wizard/pirate drawn for free!!!

PRIZE:

a winner will receive one (1) drawing of their wizard or pirate from the hit mmos wizard101 and pirate101 with your pride flags of choice

HOW TO ENTER:

REBLOG this post (likes do not count)

you do not have to be following me, but i appreciate it ;)

i will be selecting a winner once a week at the beginning of the week (sundays) using a random number generator, which means there will be a total of four winners

the winner will be messaged privately, so make sure your dms are open! if not and/or i get no reply after 48 hours, then ill select a new winner

if you've been selected but you've decided you no longer want the prize, please lmk so i can select a different winner

when i dm you, ill ask for a reference photo of your character and which pride flags you'd like featured. when sending pride flags, PLEASE send an actual image of the flag, as flags change over time with different meanings or if it's a more niche identity that i might have trouble identifying the correct one you want. there's no limit to how many flags you can have

all identities are welcome except those who inherently are harmful to others and/or nonconsensual (exa. MAPs). if you ask for that not only will you lose your prize but i will fucking block you!!!!!

remember to check out the previous years masterposts! and this years pride101 post of my characters :)

I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! THEY CANNOT STOP US FROM OUR QUEER JOY!!!!

[footygirl114]

Because I’m a glutton for praise and it’ll help me finish this I’m posting a snippet for myself 😂

Nike didn’t do anything halfway for any of its athletes, which is why when they came knocking with a sponsorship that had a few more zeros then your current rookie level contract with the Toronto Sceptres you knew that you would say yes. When part of your new contract was to be involved in their new super bowl campaign you had no idea what to expect.

As a rookie in the PWHL you were relatively new to the international scene, although you had already won two world championships and an olympic gold medal with the Canadian national team. You had just capped off your senior year with Ohio state winning your second title and coming away with the Patty Kazmaier award you were certainly making waves. But when your agent sent you the list of the other athletes you were to be featured with you had no idea how your name was in their league.

As a defence man, you were often regarded as the backbone of the team as well as a staple on the power play and penalty kill, you really did not think anyone outside of the limited hockey community knew who you were. You were drafted last in the first round of the latest draft to your hometown club, which was a dream come true and now being included in a super bowl ad was mind blowing. Add in the fact that they were sending you a private jet to fly to where they were hosting the shoot in New York City you had to pinch your self to make sure you were not dreaming.

The whole day was a whirlwind and as you were sat in a chair hair and make up done and a nike approved outfit on you noticed the player who just walked in looked a lot more rattled than you did. When she met your eye you smiled softly at here and tried to place where you knew her face but before you could she moved closer to you and softly said “Hola.”

Immediately the lightbulb clicked in your head who she was and you smiled and said “Hi” back.

You could tell she was a bit overwhelmed and she muttered “Esta ciudad es un manicomio” (this city is a madhouse) under her breath.

Smiling you responded “Una vez me perdi tratando de ir a una cuadra hacia el oeste.” (I once got lost trying to go one block west)

She smiled at you and asked “you speak Spanish?”

Shaking your head you reply “Un poco. Studied at an American college and the Spanish teacher was hot so I took all her classes” you respond with a shrug and a smirk.

The way she laughed and almost snorted as your answer threw her off made you smile wider at her and you knew that you wanted to hear that again from her. Before she could respond you were called over by the photographer to start your shoot and when you walked by her again you whispered “duty calls” in her ear and when you meet her eyes over your shoulder you shoot her a wink.

The photoshoot takes up your focus for the next while, but you did notice her get herded into the change room where you had your hair and makeup completed. You get distracted with the photographer telling you where to stand and place your hands, you have a hockey stick and gloves on in a few of the photos and it only makes you more comfortable.

That doesn’t last long when a flash of red movement in the corner of your eye catches your gaze and immediately you notice Alexia in a red sports bra and shorts. One of the aids is spraying water on her hair and shoulders for the shoot, you are across the room but you cannot take your eyes of her back, the tattoos the muscles that high ponytail is easily the hottest thing you have seen.

When she turns and meets your eyes with a smirk you cant help but meet her eyes and run yours slowly down her body and back up ending with a wink and a lip bite. You don’t notice the photographer catching you in this pose but little did you know that lip bite would become the photo that makes the campaign for you.

[hikariyaps]

synopsis ☆ satoru gojo, most popular boy on campus, has had loads of flings i mean, it's not his fault girls are all over him right? he has everything he wants, everything he needs. so when he meets you, shoko's best friend plain and unassuming he brushes it off, however one random thursday something happens. something that changes the way he thinks of you entirely. and then he just has to have you, but you won't let up that easily.

☆series masterlist

Chapter Six

new notification: whitehairblueyes started following you.

new notification: whitehairblueyes sent you a follow request.

accept or deny?

that had to be gojo. you check the account. that is gojo. oh my god what was that gym pic, his abs oh my- nope. you were not going down that route.

your finger hovers over the accept button on your private account. should you? he pulled away didn't he? suguru and shoko still met you for breakfasts. didn't he have dates?

why were you getting so worked up about this?

you click on the accept button. you were just friends after all. why did you care if he had dates or not?

new notification: whitehairblueyes started following you.

☆

gojo is at breakfast the next day. shoko, suguru and you had fallen into habit of meeting each other at the café on campus before heading out for classes. sometimes for breakfast, sometimes for a quick coffee.‘

guess who decided to join.’ shoko teases.

‘what no dates today?’ you huff.

‘what do you care?’ he snarks.

you roll your eyes at him. he sticks his tongue out.

you take your usual and you notice gojo's trying something new.

‘taste changed over ten days?’ you question him.

‘huh?’

‘your coffee order, you changed it.’

‘you noticed’

you just scoff and trudge back to your seat. but you realise, you did notice. you have noticed.

meanwhile satoru goes to join shoko who is waiting for the coffee.‘how do i get to know her?’ he whispers to her.

‘what do you mean?’

‘she doesn't speak much.’

‘so ask her questions, push a little bit, how you would do with any other hot chick.’ she says, ‘but you play around with her and i will screw your life’ she warns him, she was scary like this.

satoru just gulps and nods. he gets your coffee for you. and you smile at him politely. mumble out a quick thanks and go back to softly conversing with suguru. it irks satoru. ‘ya know, you can talk to me too, right?’

that turns your head. ‘i didn't realise, you were interested in listening to me’ you say, blankly.

‘what?’

‘you don't really talk to me.’

‘i'm talking to you now.’

‘well, i don't want to talk now.’

'are all models this stubborn?' he asks, clearly meaning to catch you off guard and to let you know that he knows. he wants to see your face when you realize he knows your little secret (even though you got the notification, he probably forgot about that).

but you put on the most saccharine smile and reply with 'no, just me.'

that shuts him up and you continue your conversation with geto about the movie you watched yesterday.

satoru sighs. other chicks are not this hard to get to know. all he has to do is flash them a smile and say a few charming words and they're all over him. but you? you were different. but he wasn't going to give up. not again.

unfortunately for gojo, but fortunately for you, it was time to get to your respective classes and you said your goodbyes and head out. satoru watches you leave, the business kids didn't have classes until twelve today. wait- what were you studying?

‘shoko?’

‘hm’

‘what does she study?’

‘she's a music student’ it wasn't shoko replying but suguru.

‘how do you know?!’

‘she told me.’

satoru looks at shoko who just nods.

‘how do you get her to talk?’

‘she's not a toy who you can “get to talk”, satoru,’ suguru chides. ‘just talk to her nicely and she'll talk back, she's not that hard to talk to.’

satoru pouts. if only suguru knew.

☆

your classes had finished earlier than usual, and your fingers were sore from playing the guitar. rubbing your fingers to soothe the burn, you bump into someone.

hand on your waist, the someone catches you from falling and when you see who it is, you think you would've rather fallen than be caught by him.

it was sukuna.

‘still as sloppy as ever, i see.’ he rumbles.

you step back. ‘sukuna, fancy seeing you here.’ you say voice even.

‘i was just passing by to see my girlfriend.’ he says.

‘oh, girlfriend?’

‘yes, she's a music student too.’

you don't let anything show on your face reply with an ‘well, better be on your way then.’

and you walk away before he could speak again. well you walk away until you were out of view then you practically stomped all the way back to shoko's apartment.

you stepped in and slammed the door shut.

‘again with the goddamn door!’ shoko yelled from her room.

‘well someone's in a bad mood’ suguru remarks from the kitchen, god knows what he was doing in the fridge.

you let out a strangled sort of cry and kick a pillow on the ground.

‘what's up?’ gojo asks.

‘ugh this day is the worst!’ you exclaim.

‘what the fuck is all the noise about? i'm trying to work here!’ shoko tuts, coming out of her room.

‘guess who the universe decided to make me bump into today?’ you say, expression somewhere between pain and anger.

‘oh no, was it-?’ shoko starts.

‘if your answer was my trashy ex boyfriend sukuna, then you get a point!’ you say sarcastically.

gojo and geto suck in a breath.

‘he didn't even say hi, he just called me sloppy said he was going to meet his new girlfriend, who is also a music student and i just walked away. now i might have to see his stupid face now and then.’ you say sitting down, putting your head in your hands.

‘i bet you, his new girlfriend is not even half as pretty as you’ gojo says. and you smile at him. genuinely smile at him and he thinks his heart skipped a beat.

you let out a water laugh and say ‘sorry sho, i couldn't choke him.’

‘oh honey,’ sho says and pats your back.

‘hey do you want us to go beat him up because we will.’ gojo says.

you sniffle and let out a little giggle while wiping your nose with your sleeve and say ‘no, no need for that, thank you for the offer though.’

and satoru thinks his brain just short circuited. that was so fucking adorable.

‘do you want me to get something for you to eat or drink?’ suguru asks from the kitchen.

‘water would be nice.’

☆

that evening you realised you had just cried in front of gojo. you’d just showed him a part of you that had always been kept under close wraps. strangely, it didn't feel like exposing yourself, it felt as though you showed him a fragile flower, and he had treated it just right.

that night you realized, you trusted satoru gojo. and that to you was extraordinary because the only people you trusted in life were the ones closest to you. and you think now that gojo satoru definitely did make himself a little spot in your heart. no matter how annoying he was,

satoru gojo had started to grow on you.

a/n: i think this is my favourite chapter by far.

©hikariyaps2025

[jeremiahhawkinsfanfics]

JAYCE & VIKTOR TALK ABOUT THEIR LOVE LIFE ❤️🤔🥰

And Jayce learn some new czech words! 😉 This scene takes place during Jayce’s BIPOCALYPSE 🔥😂😈

Extract from Loving is Caring Chapter 8 - Twisted Mind

Read the fic on AO3

“Vik, I was wondering. What’s the word for “partner” in your language?”

“Parťák,” Viktor answered flatly, still watching the quiet city.

“Oh! Partak. That’s… easy to remember.”

A chuckle escaped Viktor’s lips - soft, endearing. It always happened when Jayce asked about a new word. Maybe Viktor found his accent funny.

“Parťák.” He said again more slowly, making Jayce repeat it again and again until it rolled the right way on his tongue.

“Is it specific?” Jayce asked candidly. “Or is it like “partners”? Like it can be used for colleagues, friends, or lovers?”

“What the fuck is wrong with my brain?! What was that question?”

Viktor turned to him a little too fast. One eyebrow arched in clear surprise. The analytic gaze returned, now tinged with intrigue – similar to when the result of an experiment contradicts his previous conclusions.

“There are distinct words for that. For a romantic partner, you’d say lásko.”

“Lasko.” Jayce repeated carefully. He liked how it felt — smooth, warm, tender. He imagined Viktor saying it to him and felt his face heat up. “That’s a beautiful word.”

“It is.” Viktor agreed. “You can also say miláčku, but I personally prefer lásko.”

Something moved in Jayce’s brain – a very familiar and dangerous feeling. Curiosity.

“Have you ever had a… a lasko?” Jayce asked, carefully looking away, all too scared to give away his most private thoughts.

Viktor’s eyes wouldn’t leave him.

“No” he answered with a tone much more casual than his gaze. “I had a few lovers. More for… scientific curiosity, if I can put it that way. But I never had a significant other – a lásko. Not yet.”

Jayce felt his caution wrestling with his curiosity. It was a brutal, uneven match. And caution wasn’t winning this round.

“And… would you like to?” Jayce risked, still stubbornly looking outside, knowing all too well what kind of bare emotions were dancing in his eyes right now.

“Of course” Viktor smiled. “As long as it’s with the right person, love seems like a fascinating thing to experience. Don’t you think?”

Jayce’s blush deepened, and he pretended to look at something down in the street to hide it.

“Yeah… yeah. Love is… really something fascinating.”

“I trust your word on that.” Viktor said, looking back to the city. “I imagine you’ve had plenty of lásky.”

“Not that many… I mean, I had a few girlfriends before, and I've loved each of them. But I hope one day I would meet the one true love, like my parents did. They really had a beautiful story” Jayce smiled, starting to relax.

“Interesting,” Viktor replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jayce shifted awkwardly.

“What about you?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “You said you didn’t have a lásko, but… have you ever had a crush? Been in love before?”

An odd chuckle passed Viktor’s lips – one that sounded a bit ironic – as they curled into a quiet and endeared smile.

“… I have.”

His voice was just a whisper – like a secret, quietly placed in Jayce’s hands, precious and fragile.

Jayce turned to him. There was something new in Viktor’s expression. Something vulnerable, tender, and loving.

“How was he like?” Jayce asked, now burning with curiosity.

Tall? Strong? Handsome? Brilliant? Everything all together? What could Viktor’s secret love be like?

Viktor let another chuckle pass his lips.

“… Kind.”

His eyes were infinitely more eloquent than his words – filled with more love Jayce could have ever imagined seeing in those pearls of brightness and intelligence. Long lashes dropped modestly as if hiding something too raw to be fully seen.

And suddenly, without warning, Jayce’s heart ached.

That look… That smile… That affection in Viktor’s eyes… Jayce realized he wanted them for himself. He wanted to be the one Viktor would think of like that.

But if Viktor had never had a lásko… that meant this affection, this love, had never been returned.

Someone had wasted it – someone who hadn’t been smart enough to accept it, to cherish it.

Had this man rejected Viktor? Had Viktor been through a heartbreak because of him? Or had Viktor simply never dared to tell him – like this man made him feel like he was not enough?

Jayce imagined Viktor alone in bed, tasting nothing but loneliness and longing, instead of being covered with all the love and affection he deserved. Could it even be that… this man ever made Viktor cry?

A burning wave of protectiveness flooded Jayce’s chest, running stronger at each beating of his heart.

Viktor deserved better. So much better.

Viktor deserved to be kissed good morning every day, to be brought sweet milk to bed, to be cuddled before going to sleep, to be spooned to stay warm through the night, to be told every hour how beautiful, and smart, and funny he was, to be listened to when he had another brilliant idea or when he had a bad day. Viktor deserved a man who would gift him that book he couldn’t find anywhere for his birthday, who would make him feel everyday how wonderful, and brilliant, and loved he was.

Jayce heart skipped a beat.

“Now that… that really feels like love. And really not like friendship.”

He felt them again: the wires crossing, short-circuiting his mind. Like love and friendship had been both battling in his mind for weeks – and right now love had placed a powerful blow. The whole blueprint of his relationship with Viktor shifted again – an unsolved equation just getting even more complex.

Before chaos could fully overpower him, a grounding hand settled on Jayce’s shoulder.

“We should get back to work now, parťák”

Want to read more? Read the fic on AO3!

Thank you for reading 😊

[viperify]

CONGRATS ON 1K!!!!! that's truly such an awesome accomplishment 💖💖💖 i thought i'd come sit in the dating booth🤭

I'm a slytherin, an Aquarius (a january one if that makes any difference to you), i think my ideal date is going on a nice walk in the rain where we share an umbrella and a pair of headphones, just a nice romantic walk.

(now it's time for me to finish your moodboard since i'm finally home hehe)

1k celebration |  ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☔︎︎ Walking In The Rain.

A/N: hiii sweetheart!!! Thank you so so much for requesting! I love youuuuuuu 💋 You sat in the dating booth—and Draco came to join you!!! Hope you enjoy this. <33 I fell asleep before I got to finish this so… late night post :33

.ᐟ.ᐟ yall should definitely also check out her celebration!!!

A chilly breeze tingles against your skin as you reach to close the foggy window of your bedroom. It’s been raining for days now, thunderstorms keeping you awake at night—the heavy downpour and wind making it nearly impossible for you to even fetch the Daily Prophet from right outside your front door.

“It’s calmed down a little,” a familiar voice rings from behind you, and you turn around to face your boyfriend instead of mindlessly staring outside into the vast gardens of Malfoy Manor.

He looks rather rough—blonde hair all disheveled and wet, rain soaking through his coat.

You raise a brow at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, love.” He reassures, closing the distance between you two to place a kiss on top of your head. “We could go for a walk, if you’d like. I notice how much you miss going outside.”

One quick glance towards the window later, and you agree. The harsh sound of rain lashing against the window has turned into something softer, single droplets now falling onto the glass in a gentle rhythm.

Draco waits for you as you get dressed, taking your hand in his and leading you down the main hall of the huge manor you are lucky enough to live in.

Before you step outside, he conjures an umbrella big enough to fit the both of you under it. “If we head towards the botanical garden up north, the wind won’t harm us as much. Is that alright, sweetheart?” He asks, his softened blue eyes checking in with you.

“Yes,” you reply, lips curving into a soft smile. “That’d be great.”

As soon as you leave the safety of your shared home, the intense smell of wet grass and damp soil is thick in the air. The earthy scent filled your senses, wrapping around you as if it were a comforting blanket.

As soon as you leave the safety of your shared home, the intense smell of wet grass and damp soil thick in the air, the earthy scent filling your senses, wrapping around you as if a comforting blanket.

Slowly, you make your way through the estate. Rain gently tapping against your umbrella, water splashing beneath your shoes with every step you take.

You’re heading to the Malfoys’ private botanical garden—a greenhouse filled with exotic plants, both magical and non-magical. Draco has told you countless times about all the different kinds of special plants they own, showing you each and every one of them. 

And he would only ever tell you the Latin names—the countless Victoria amazonicas in the pond, the Gloriosa superba his mother loves, or the Nelumbo nucifera that he always tells you are just as beautiful as you.

From your pocket, you retrieve a pair of wired headphones, connected to an iPod—something Draco bought for you a few years ago when visiting London. Which you now wouldn’t ever want to miss again—music becoming a safe haven, a way to shut the world out when you needed to.

You hand him one of the buds. “Do you mind if we listen to some songs?”

“Of course not,” he answers. “I’d love to.”

For you, he’d do anything, after all.

So, as he walks you through the garden, stopping here and there to show you the newest additions since you’ve last visited—all Latin names, of course—you’re accompanied by your favourite artists and songs. 

And suddenly, life is not so dull anymore with him and music by your side.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[luxiemylove]

꧁☆彡❦꧂ Kiss It Better

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!reader

Summary: You and Pedro have been together for a year. Pedro ended up injuring his shoulder in a fall, so you came over to take care of him😉

Warnings: Smut, foul language, seduction, teasing, jokingly strip teasing Pedro, oral (m!receiving), slight edging, rimming (m!receiving), p in v sex, cowgirl, mutual orgasms, injured Pedro and age gap (reader 20s/ Pedro 50s)

A/N: Was thinking about how sexy Pedro looked in that sling cast, so I wrote this.

WC:3k

Your flip flops smacked against the concrete as you held a hand over your face getting out of your car. There was often press looking around the gate outside Pedro’s house, waiting to get a shot of anything remotely related to him. You weren’t famous, you just met Pedro working as a makeup artist on ‘The Last Of Us’, the only reason they wanted pictures of you was because of how private Pedro was with your relationship. It was hard of course, dating a man who was constantly in the spotlight. Reading comments on posts about your age gap, some people being kind about your relationship with him, some judging. But you loved him, and you were willing to do whatever it took to stay with him.

Pedro had the gate open for you and you walked through and walked in the front door. You sighed with relief when you got inside, the sounds of press asking questions finally being drowned out with the sound of Jeff Buckley faintly playing over the Alexa in the living room. The scent of cotton sheets filled the air, mixed with that musky, earthy scent that was uniquely him.

“Hey baby!” You called out, walking through the hallway and into the living area. You absolutely loved his house, especially the living room. It was so Pedro. The perfect blend of elegance and simplicity. It had two white sofas, accentuated with beige throw pillows. There was also a black coffee table that held various books and now that he had a broken shoulder, dirty dishes and empty cards of painkillers. Pedro was laying down on the couch, his head resting on the arm of the sofa and a pillow underneath his arm to support his injured shoulder. He was asleep, hair all messy and disheveled, snoring softly.

You smiled to yourself. He looked so peaceful and despite feeling sorry for him about his broken shoulder, he looked so cute with it. You leaned down on your hunkers beside his head and kissed his nose, making him stir a little. You ran your hand through his messy salt and pepper curls, pressing soft kisses to his forehead until his eyes fluttered open. A soft groan escaped his parted lips before they curled up into a lazy smile.

“Hey.” You said softly, stroking the apple of his cheek with your thumb. “Hey.” He replied, sitting up with a moan so he was perched upright. You sat down beside him and crawled into his good side, pressing your lips to his. He melted against your lips, one hand going to grip your thigh over your red gingham shorts.

After a couple seconds you broke the kiss with a soft, content hum. Your hand lingered on the side of his face, cupping his cheek. “So, how are you feeling? Does it hurt?” You cooed. “A little, but not as much as when it happened. Fucking stairs, was so stupid.” He laughed, gripping your chin to bring you back into his lips.

You giggled against his lips, kissing him softly. It was only two days since you’d seen him but it might as well have been a year. Pedro was desperate, just needed you to take his mind off not being able to do anything with this fucking cast on, at least it wasn’t his good arm. You pulled back from the kiss and bit your lip, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear.

“God, I missed you.” He groaned, tugging at your thighs for you to sit on his lap. You quickly retaliated, moving his hands to rest on your knees.

“Nuh uh, you have a broken arm.”

“It’s actually a broken shoulder.” He retorted sharply with a playful look as he trailed his hand up your inner thigh. God it was hard to be on your best behaviour when he was acted like this, all desperate to touch you. You eventually gathered yourself and grabbed his hand, setting it on your knee once again.

“Same thing. You’re in no shape for anything dirty right now. I’m gonna go make you something to eat.”You said with a firm expression, caressing his good shoulder while you stood up. He let out a huff, one that a tired dog would let out. It made you giggle. You made your way to his kitchen and reheated some left over tomato pasta and grabbed some of the pain meds prescribed from the hospital for his shoulder, due to be taken now. You appeared back in the living room with the stuff a couple minutes later. He sat up and took the stuff from you appreciatively.

“Thank you.” He said. “But you don’t need to baby me, I’m fine.” He said defensively while chewing on his pasta. You settled back into his side and plucked a piece of penne off his plate, humming at the taste. “You really are the worst patient, you know that?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair to smoothen it out.

He finished his pasta in what felt like 5 seconds. As soon as he set his plate down on the coffee table he smashed his lips against yours, cutting off the story you were telling him about your friends cheating boyfriend. Your hands went to brace on his cheeks, cupping them in your hands while he kissed you stupid, tongue tangling with yours to take your breath away. You pulled back when you ran out of air, panting softly.

“We shouldn’t- not with your shoulder baby..”

“Oh fuck my shoulder-“ he said, leaning back into your lips before you dodged him gently.

“Pedro. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. How would we explain that to the doctors huh?” You said, a little firmer this time. You would feel horrible if he injured his arm even more during sex of all things. That would definitely be an awkward hospital visit.

“You’re being mean.” He pouts to you.

You purse your lips. “Well too bad, you deserve it right now. I will not be the cause of injuring your arm more.” You said matter of factly.

His head lulls back dramatically. “I don’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this. This is depriving me of love.”

You ignore him, focusing on the episode of friends in front of you with a shake of your head and a grin on your face despite yourself, your hand running over the red kiss marks on his sling that you did to decorate it while he ate.

His gaze softened at your hesitation. It was sweet that you cared, but fuck, he didn’t. He didn’t care about his shoulder right now, all he needed was you. The doctors had him pretty much house ridden. He couldn’t drive, be on set, workout and they pretty much advised against sexual activity. But like a misbehaving child, being told no made him want it even more. He could tell you wanted to as well. Sure there was hesitation, but he could tell by the way your thighs clenched together, the slight hitch in your breathing and the way you bit your lower lip.

You wanted to say no, be responsible and take care of him like the good girlfriend you were. But fuck, the way he looked at you. It made your skin feel hot and your clit tingle from arousal. You couldn’t say no, it just wasn’t in you right now. Your lips crashed against his, similar to how he kissed you before. His good arm draped around your waist, instinctively pulling you closer to his side. He could feel heat radiating off you and if drove him crazy.

You dipped your tongue into his mouth with a sigh, lips moving furiously against his. You were fucking. drenched. You were convinced this was the wettest you’d been in your life, you were so needy it was actually embarrassing. You shifted up into his lap carefully to straddle him. You quickly ran a hand over his injured shoulder with feather-like touch, careful not to hurt him. You could feel his growing length underneath you and shifted until it was pressed against your clothed core, making you both moan against each others lips.

“Taste so good baby,” He muttered against your lips, making you giggle. You rolled your hips forward, the friction against your clit making your cunt ooze your arousal into your underwear. You pulled back from his lips breathlessly and eagerly climbed down his body, dropping to your knees between his legs.

He hummed with a grin, his hand stroking your hair lovingly. “What are you doing down there?”

“Giving you what you want.” You replied mischievously, letting out a giggle and taking your tank top off along with your bra. His hand drifted to cup your breast, running his thumb over your hardened peak appreciatively making you moan softly.

“Should I do a little strip tease for you?” You said mischievously making him chuckle.

“Go ahead.” He said with a shake of his head. You stood up and gripped the waistband of your shorts with your thumbs and wiggled your hips as you tugged them down. You then reached for your lace white panties that matched your bra, slowly trailing them down your thighs, making Pedro groan and shift in his seat.

“Come here baby, need you.” He said, tugging you back to your knees by the back of your knee making you giggle and settle back between his thighs. His sweatpants were tight, accentuating the bulge of his cock. You palmed it through his pants and tugged at the waistband till they were bunched up at his ankles alongside his black boxer briefs. The sight of his hard cock, leaking at the tip almost made you moan. Made you press your thighs together from the floor.

Pedro grabbed a soft pillow from the couch and dropped it to you. Damn, even when you were about to give him the sloppiest, toe curling head he was a gentleman. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his tip before sitting up and placing it under your knees.

You take the head of Pedro’s cock into your mouth and the noise he makes is so gratifying you have to fight to keep a smile off your face. You push his hips down when they twitch up, wanting to take this slow, there’s a mumbled “sorry baby” from above, but your too focused on taking that cock deeper, pressing your tongue against that sensitive spot under the head, hearing Pedro’s head fly back against the headrest of the couch, good hand tugging gently on your hair.

The majority of the time you and Pedro had sex, it was usually him in control. He was a pleaser after all, he loved focussing on your pleasure, who would blame him with a girl like you? He loved taking care of your needs, feeling so connected with you. But you also liked to take control every once in a while. It was so beautiful watching him being satisfied.

Pedro’s whole body went limp, shivering like a drawn bowstring, the decadent lines of his body sprawled out for you to admire. His eyes were on you though they were a little unfocused, pleasure being clear on his features.

It takes what feels like a matter of seconds to get Pedro’s cock to full hardness, until when you pull off to catch your breath for a moment, it slaps flushed and wet against his toned enough stomach. Pedro was big, not ridiculously so, but big enough that you were definitely intimidated the first time you both slept together.

“I love you,” you said, pressing your lips to his toned thigh to give your jaw a break from his cock. He replied with a soft, relaxed answer. Your favourite four words to hear from him.

“I love you too.”

You smiled and kissed his other thigh before taking him back in, deeper than before, letting the head of his cock tease the back of your throat, holding it there for Pedro to feel the pressure, the way your working to keep from gagging on his dick. Pedro’s mouth falls open with a groan, turning his head to press into his cast. “Feels so good, god baby girl.”

You hummed in delight and started a slow, easy rhythm, holding the base of Pedro’s leaking cock as you take the rest in. You hollowed your cheeks to suck him, keeping the wet, hot pressure even and devastating.

It’s clear that Pedro had been missing you even though it had only been a couple days since you last had sex. He was desperate as soon as you walked in the door. He’s groaning and moaning into the meat of his bicep, a shiver starting to work through his thighs, a buzz of tension in his hips.

“Ohh baby- fuck! I’m close.”

Fuck, you’d only been doing this what, three minutes? Already?

I mean, he was fifty years old so it was understandable. You stroked his thigh gently before pulling your mouth off him. You didn’t want this to end too soon, not yet.

“What- what are you..” You quickly hushed him, stroking his leg gently.

“Just relax.” You said, leaning down under his balls, prying his legs open slightly and lapping at where his hole puckers sweet and wet and where he had no choice than to sigh in pleasure. You kiss him there like you’re actually kissing him. He tastes tangy, stings of expensive soap. Your nose nudged against his balls, one hand leaning up to stroke his cock slowly.

“So good..” His groan rumbles deep in his belly gasping at the pleasure. Your tongue dips deeper, pushes past that ring of muscle with ease. You licked and sucked at him with soft hums, feeling your pussy making a mess all over the floor. This was almost too much, you felt as if you could come just from pleasuring him alone. You removed your mouth from him, looking up at him desperately.

“I need you- please?” You said shakily. He was tugging you to your feet with his good arm in a second, helping you into his lap. Your lips pressed against his in a soft yet demanding kiss, like his lips were the only thing grounding you. You arousal was making a mess all over his thigh. He dipped two of his meaty fingers through your folds and brought them up to his mouth, sucking it off his fingers. “Taste so amazing baby.” He mused.

The sight made your cunt clench around nothing.

You lined yourself up with his cock, your dripping pussy swallowing him with ease. Pedro watched as you lowered yourself down onto him, a deep groan leaving his lips. A satisfied sigh comes out of you as you take him all the way, clit rubbing against his hairs. “Feels so good- Pedro..”

Pedro watched you, good hand on your waist guiding your movements. His hips rocked a little, trying to resist the urge to just fuck up into you. He knew if he did that he would probably hurt himself and god forbid, you. You slowly dragged your hips back and forward, trying to get a pace going. Your hip rolling turned into full blown bouncing to get some relief. “Ohhh.. oh fuck! Yeah, yeah just like that..” You babbled out, brain going scrambled.

He threw his back, no longer being able to resist the urge, fuck it, he didn’t care if he broke his other shoulder. He thrusted his hips up into you hard but maintained a slow pace. A surprised yelp left your lips and before you knew it, you were gripping his bicep and burying your face into his cast gently, crying out, practically screaming into his shoulder.

“Oh.. you’re so pretty like this baby. Taking me so well, you feel me right there?” He said, bringing one hand down to press on your lower stomach, feeling the bulge in it, he was in your fucking belly, so deep.

“So deep.. can feel you ev- everywhere.” You moaned out, feeling yourself clench and ripple around his cock. You were so close it was actually painful. Flashes of white light flooded your vision and before you knew it, you were flooding his cock. He came along with you not far after.

The two of you just stayed there for what felt like forever. Not wanting to break the connection. Pedro’s hand lazily rubbed your lower back, cradling you against his chest. “You okay?” He asked softly, his voice a soft rumble in your ear.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You’re the one with a broken arm.” You said, taking your face out of his cast and cupping his cheeks.

He smiled and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, grounding kiss, bringing you both back down to earth.

“Broken shoulder.” He corrected

“Whatever.”